Reed
Squire
"If some feller gives me a lance, I'm'ma fight tooth 'n nail for what I reckon is right."
Posts: 79
Profession: Farmhand
Affiliation: None
Guild: None
Affinity: Light
Profile: Reed
OoC Alias: Ardent
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Post by Reed on Jan 23, 2018 23:44:43 GMT -6
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. A tired, perspiring young lad had finished hacking at an area of stubborn weeds: the plant of evil, as he had not-so affectionately named them as a child. Out of all sights, the sight of weeds was the only thing that ticked him off beyond belief. Time and time again the aspiring squire had taken hours of daylight to combat a foe that had no swords, no fangs or magic, but the ability to spell a season that he and his family go hungry. Money was of no significant importance to the boy, and neither was the tiny malignant plant that he picked up his hoe to strike again. With a slight nod of satisfaction and a subtle glare towards the other several patches that he must overcome before dark, he continued onward with a soldier's march: a soldier defending his miniature kingdom. A kingdom that just so happens to grow vegetables and be filled with dirt.
"Hey! Hey, Reed! C'mon, lemme get a try with yer hoe! Ma said I can help ya!" a small girl of only 7 years of age shouted as she hurried over to intercept the farmhand on his way to the next patch. He smiled, planting the metal end of his hoe into the soft, rich earth with a chuckle. The child, Beth, was Reed's younger sister and a ray of bubbly excitement and sunshine. She awkwardly yet happily waddled over the clumps of dirt that had just been set aside for when the ground needed to be filled and jumped to a halt right in front of the boy with a large, naive smile.
"Pleeeeeease, Reed? I promise I'll do ma best! Them weeds ain't standin' a chance now that I can lift a hoe!" she exclaimed enthusiastically. Reed, having a very big soft spot for his sister, rolled his eyes and nodded. Beth had never really helped in any way whatsoever, but simply letting her believe that she was helping was enough to make her happy. "Alright, go on. Give 'em all get out, Beth! Maybe I might let you take one-a them weeds back inside so you can show Ma," he offered with a smirk. The child gasped in awe and immediately pivoted around to waddle over to a weed patch. With a child's ferocity, she began swinging the hoe wildly at the ground as she giggled.
Rolling his eyes, Reed took off a strap that held a longer, triangular-ended tool and rested it upon his shoulders as he continued on inspecting the family crops near the edge of the field. Everything seemed to bring back so many memories. The first things that always came to mind were the morning sparring sessions he had often with his father and the feeling of riding Gracie, the horse that he had raised ever so lovingly, across the open plains. Funnily enough, most of these were just related to his dreams: the wanderlust that drove him to express curiosity about the world around him, the deep wish to one day become a proper warrior that would be able to find a way to lift his family from a meager farming life (though he loved it so), and the fascination of the more educated and skilled people of the world. Reed shook his head with a slight sigh. "Maybe one day, Pa... I've been mighty curious about that 'Ilia' you're sayin' you came from. Stories are fine and dandy, but seein' is believin'..."
It would only be a while before Beth grew tired, as usual, and would ask the squire to drop everything and keep her company.
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Reed
Squire
"If some feller gives me a lance, I'm'ma fight tooth 'n nail for what I reckon is right."
Posts: 79
Profession: Farmhand
Affiliation: None
Guild: None
Affinity: Light
Profile: Reed
OoC Alias: Ardent
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Post by Reed on Jan 24, 2018 19:42:54 GMT -6
"Reed, Ma says you're awful busy now... Ya still have time to play with me a lot, right?" the child asked innocently as Reed sat next to her on the outer fence. She mindlessly kicked her legs with a small frown, not being able to reach the lower bar yet. Though he felt the urge to tell her yes just to make her smile again, he knew that it would be an out-and-out lie, something that Sacaeans generally frowned upon. "Beth... ya know that I got lots-a important things to do now. Pa's got a crick in his back, and that means I gotta handle the farm by m'self 'till he gets healed," he replied. Beth scowled in offense.
"Whaddaya mean ya gotta take care-a the farm alone?! I was helpin' ya bunches, Reed!" she exclaimed. The boy couldn't help but chuckle slightly. This, in turn, only made her angrier as she continued ranting and he kept laughing. It was times like these that made Reed feel like he was very fortunate. His family had only a barely stable income and the success of the farm depended completely on how hard he worked on it, but hearing his little sister's (slightly spoiled) attitude and watching his parents rest easy as they aged was all that he needed to hear to be reassured.
Mere minutes after the annoyed Beth grew quiet, it was as if she was back to being completely serious. Such a direct contrast in mood was common for her, but by no means good. "Reed... Ma said yer gonna leave one day. Probably to go meet some-a them rich folk or somethin', maybe take Gracie out with ya, and she reckoned we won't be seein' ya for a long time. Please tell me she's messin' with me."
There was the question. The farmhand, truth be told, was always aware that it would come one day. Her curiosity began when Reed told her stories from Bulgar, mostly about some of the heroes that had left their mark and whose names had circulated Sacae several times over. Granted, none were known to be Arkyan, but that never held Reed back from looking up to them. However, such idolization was dangerous for his parents and little sister. Though his father had supported what his son had aspired to do in life, it was clear in his eyes that it meant that they would suffer because of its pursuit. The aging Ilian would be the only capable man who could work the fields, and his wife the only one that knew how to a basic degree.
If he were to leave to seek glory as a warrior, they would be left to their own devices in the field that they had lived in for years without a clue about how to run it.
"...Beth, I can't give ya an answer right now. I'm still figurin' out a way to take care-a y'all if I wanna head out. Heck, I don't even know if I wanna do that in the first place! But all I can tell ya now is that I'm not goin' anywhere until I find out what I need to do," he explained with a somewhat guilty expression. Such a choice would tear him apart both ways: pursue his calling and leave his own blood to fend for themselves, or remain to take care of them and potentially miss out on what would be in store for him in the future. He sighed and shifted slightly on the fence. Beth was hardly the best person to talk this over with. Reed pushed himself up and called for her to "help" him finish the weeding of the plants.
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Reed
Squire
"If some feller gives me a lance, I'm'ma fight tooth 'n nail for what I reckon is right."
Posts: 79
Profession: Farmhand
Affiliation: None
Guild: None
Affinity: Light
Profile: Reed
OoC Alias: Ardent
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Post by Reed on Jan 25, 2018 16:42:29 GMT -6
All throughout dinner that night, Reed couldn't think about anything except when Beth would bring up their conversation from earlier. Being the blabbermouth she is, it was only a matter of time until she blurted it out, causing his mother to feel faint and his father to shake his head disapprovingly as usual. The conversation was usually shot down in cold blood with the same reasoning that had ended the others: he must wait until his father's back would heal. Simple reassurance that it would come eventually did little but make his yearning worse.
However, to his surprise, it never came. Almost as if time had skipped past the awkward hour of Reed simply staring at his now cooled bowl of soup, Beth had already skipped off to bed. His father began to clean up the bowls and spoons, heading off to wash them. All that remained was the squire eventually locking eyes with his mother, who had been staring at him in return with concern. She was a slender woman, with delicate hands that contrasted her profession as a seamstress and a gaze that could be mistaken for a Bernese soldier's smirk in confidence and drive had she not been wearing Sacaean clothes.
"Child, you know that she must know 'bout it eventually."
At this, Reed simply slumped, threw his right arm up onto the table, and held his cheek in his hand. "But Ma, didja have to tell 'er like that? Now you gone and got her thinkin' that I'm gonna die somewhere and never come back," he complained. The woman nodded in confirmation to confirm that it was her intent. Signs like this told him that that was her goal all along: to be as serious as possible about such an event. If there was one thing that Reed's mother could do best for her children, it was to be completely straightforward about the worst-case scenario. A boon in some cases, but one of the worst banes in this one.
"It's better that she would find out now before it could happen," she said with a calm expression and a soft voice. Reed balled his left fist under the table.
"But it ain't gonna happen. I'm workin' mighty hard to make sure-a that, Ma. Ya know that she ain't gonna forget this, 'n eventually yer gonna be the one to have to calm 'er down when I do leave," he retorted. Though not as politely as he would have liked, his mother seemed to tolerate the comeback.
"I'm prepared to do just that, Riley. But I've also heard a ton 'bout the dreams you've been talkin' about, and you scare her more than I do. She won't just forget that you want to be a knight, like the ones that you talk about. The ones you say died.." she trailed off, her tone faltering slightly out of worry.
"'N what do you reckon I do 'bout it, huh? She likes hearin' them stories. I'm not gonna stop tellin' 'em just 'cause you don't wanna get her worked up over it..." he paused, realizing that he was starting to lace every word with venom to break her heart one day. He shook his head dismissively. "Just... Listen, Ma. Yeah, I'm gonna head out with Gracie and find a band-a soldiers to fight with or somethin'. If some feller gives a lance, I'm'ma fight tooth 'n nail for what I reckon is right. But not today, because y'all need me here."
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Reed
Squire
"If some feller gives me a lance, I'm'ma fight tooth 'n nail for what I reckon is right."
Posts: 79
Profession: Farmhand
Affiliation: None
Guild: None
Affinity: Light
Profile: Reed
OoC Alias: Ardent
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Post by Reed on Jan 26, 2018 18:56:56 GMT -6
Reed and his mother merely locked gazes after the boy finished. Neither of them said a word, not one syllable was spoken for several seconds. One could hear the crickets outside chirping and the gentle breeze blowing through the open window, but these normally calming sounds were practically snuffed out by the tension that hung in the air. Not even the sound of Reed's father washing the plates could possibly be noticed by mother nor son. Time had seemingly slowed to a stop.
After what felt like an eternity to the squire, his mother sighed in resignation. "Fine... But don't come cryin' to me when you realize how selfish you're bein' right now," she huffed with crossed arms. A small twinge of regret lingered in Reed's mind: perhaps maybe phrasing his argument as he did was a bit too harsh and came off as if he saw his family as a burden rather than his biggest drive. Her serious yet somber expression was extremely similar to when he was younger and broke a part off of their wooden table after he didn't listen to the "no farm tools at the table" rule. With a bite of his cheek, Reed stood from his chair, gently picked up his now cold bowl of stew, and retreated to his room.
"Darn it, Ma... Yer always against me headin' off to be a soldier. But why? Pa wouldn't-a married ya if he hadn't gone and left that 'Ilia' place, 'n look at 'em! Just fine the way he is, and it warn't for no stayin' at home and plowin'..." he mumbled as he leaned against his windowsill staring up at the night sky. The stars were one of his most treasured memories as a young boy, and taking the midnight rides with his father was what kept him up once every month.
"She's buried a child once, Riley. Another would crush her world."
Slowly turning around revealed to him that his father had been sitting atop the wrinkled and messy sheets sloppily thrown onto his bed. He was busy fondling with a peculiar locket he always kept around his neck. "Us men are mortals, and you are growing into a man. Nothing stands between you and the cold end of a blade other than your skill in combat, and should you not possess the proper skill? Well, you're as good as dead..."
Reed rolled his eyes, completing the same small speech that he had heard countless times. "'With yer dreams come trouble, 'n trouble ain't gonna wait because ya gotta get ready first.' I know, Pa, I know. Still, I just find it mighty interestin' that she still thinks I'm never gonna be good enough! What, is it me or somethin'?" he asked, not expecting an answer. Like always, however, his father always had one.
"Yes, it is you. You aren't ready, and you won't be until you can knock this old man off of his horse. Now stop questioning why and work harder."
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Reed
Squire
"If some feller gives me a lance, I'm'ma fight tooth 'n nail for what I reckon is right."
Posts: 79
Profession: Farmhand
Affiliation: None
Guild: None
Affinity: Light
Profile: Reed
OoC Alias: Ardent
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Post by Reed on Jan 28, 2018 12:03:27 GMT -6
It had to be more complicated than that, right? Reed simply stared at his father with a look combining surprise, anticipation, discomfort, and shock all into one. "Wait... T-There's gotta be somethin' added on, right? Yer sayin' I can go... When I knock ya off yer horse? That's it?" he questioned with a stunned stammer. The man crossed his arms and nodded. "That's it. Just force me clean off of it and you can leave whenever you please, or maybe you'd even like to have the freedom to leave and return once in a while to spare my back, heh," he chuckled with a hint of melancholy.
Moments like these were what made Reed idolize his father. An Ilian fur trader before he migrated to Sacae and a skilled lancer himself, he always knew the ins and outs of combat with spears, halberds, pikes, and even a pitchfork proven when a small bandit group of no more than four had tried to trifle with him during his trip to a neighboring farm for trading. Though never touched by anyone in the house, not even Reed himself for fear of the stories behind it, his father keeps a very well-kept joust above the fireplace. The weapon is narrowly cone-shaped from the tip to the hilt, which is hollow enough for a warrior to grab the end and hold it comfortably, and trim with intricate emerald green designs.
"Son, this lance has seen the field of battle several a time. With a power to take down even the mightiest steed, it is a blessing and a curse. Though it possesses a power that can turn the tides of battle, it needlessly endangers the innocent steed that doesn't know anything about wars and politics: only its masters. Unfortunately, on my journey here, I'd had to cross blades with many a mercenary that mistook me for a robber, and so many horses fell because of it. I put it above the fireplace so that maybe the flames will burn away the sins," his father's voice echoed in his head. Before he could ride, Reed always dreamed of being able to storm out onto the battlefield with the lance at his side ready to strike. Afterwards, however, he grew to avoid it like the plague and knew that he could never bring himself to lift it towards anyone. Guilt aside, the damned thing was just flat-out heavy as all get-out.
"...Reed, you're spacing out again."
With a blink and a shake of his head, the farmhand snapped out of his nostalgic trance. He had practically fallen asleep standing up! "Gah! S-Sorry, Pa, just thinkin' 'bout things! What didja say 'bout the back thing?" he apologized with a small smile. The lancer shook his head with a sigh. "Just keep working hard during our sparring sessions. I plan on assessing you tomorrow, just to see where we're at. Eat your stew and get a good night's sleep, okay? We've got a big day tomorrow," he stated with a stern expression as he stood up and left the room.
It took several moments for Reed to process what had just happened. that night. Freedom stood right before his eyes, and all that stood between him and the liberty was to strike his teacher off of Acre, his black (usually armored with leather padding to emulate battle armor) companion. With an excited smirk, he turned back to the windowsill to grab his stew and shovel it down so he could get to bed sooner.
Cold stew isn't as good as hot ones. It took him thrice as long because he would be constantly struggling to swallow.
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Reed
Squire
"If some feller gives me a lance, I'm'ma fight tooth 'n nail for what I reckon is right."
Posts: 79
Profession: Farmhand
Affiliation: None
Guild: None
Affinity: Light
Profile: Reed
OoC Alias: Ardent
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Post by Reed on Jan 29, 2018 21:02:03 GMT -6
The morning seemed to come slower than others. Like every other morning, Reed had been finishing getting dressed by throwing his forest green cloak over his head and letting the hood slide back to rest over his back. However, though this was the exact same thing he had done every morning before the sun rose fully into the western sky, today he could hardly contain his excitement. Today, unlike any other, liberty was within reach. It was as if the 15 year old could practically see the light at the end of the metaphorical tunnel. He could almost feel himself finally having the chains of restraint being sliced and destroyed, leaving him liberated... That is, if he could understand the metaphor whatsoever. All he really showed was a spring in his step as he had walked to the stables to get his horse for the big battle.
"I figured you would be up early. It's about time we got serious, Riley."
The voice came from behind him. Reed turned around to see his father leaning against the stable side, clad in dark blue armor: something he was almost never wearing. "Uh... Pa? What's with the fancy lookin' getup? I dunno if the ol' wood sticks're gonna hurt that badly..." he questioned. The older man chuckled and pushed himself away from the doorway and picked up what appeared to be a lance. More importantly, however, the design of the lance had spoken more than words ever could: it was the Horse Slayer. The weapon gleamed threateningly in the rising sun's light as he protectively moved in front of Gracie, who curiously eyed the weapon.
"This lesson, though you are not ready, may as well be your last one from me. I am going to teach you that you must fight not just for your own life, but for Gracie's. I will try not to kill the beast, but if you slip up and let me capitalize, she may just take a thrust," he said sternly with the intimidating lance planted into the ground with the tip buried in the dirt. "But you will not be armed with wood any longer, my son. Grab whatever weapon you feel comfortable with."
Reed could feel a sour taste collecting in his mouth as he gulped nervously. This would be the first time that he would raise steel against his father, but against the Horse Slayer was his greatest nightmare come to life. Hesitantly turning around without a word (because his father was notorious for being stubborn about his training regiment), he pondered about what to bring before finally settling on a pitchfork that didn't have a bit of grime on the prongs yet. Nodding and tucking it into the holster upon his back securely, he took Gracie by the reigns and began to lead her out to the open field.
"Don't you worry 'bout a darn thing, girl... I'll take that lance myself 'fore I ever let it hit you."
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Reed
Squire
"If some feller gives me a lance, I'm'ma fight tooth 'n nail for what I reckon is right."
Posts: 79
Profession: Farmhand
Affiliation: None
Guild: None
Affinity: Light
Profile: Reed
OoC Alias: Ardent
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Post by Reed on Jan 30, 2018 21:05:40 GMT -6
The sunrise shone in between father and son on the farm. Father, a man who had seen many battles and grown from his pilgrimage, and son, a boy with dreams to have his name known and his voice heard, stared each other down with a dutiful intent. The joust that many a beast had fallen to was held firmly in the old man's hand as the steed that supported the squire kicked at the dirt below her in preparation. Not even the horse that held up the boy's father was immune to the intimidation that the weapon imposed upon it. Should Reed mess up, the Horse Slayer would have claimed another victim.
Reed initiated the charge with a loud battle cry. He flicked the reigns and raised his dominant arm carrying the pitchfork high into the air as his companion bucked, then immediately bolted forward. Noticing the brash movement, the dark horse on the other side of the pasture mimicked the movement of their foe and met the incoming assault with a sprint that could easily overtake its inferior. Pitchfork met joust with a clash of sparks, but neither rider had struck a blow onto the other. The squire recoiled from the collision and struggled to hold on, flailing his lancing arm back and taking a moment to steady himself as Gracie slowly made a turn back around to try again.
"You've got the drive, boy, but no backbone! Your horse will only ever be as confident as you are, as will your strikes! Now come at me!" Reed's father shouted from across the field as he swung the Horse Slayer back down at his side. The tip barely missed the ankle of his midnight black mount, as he had received little natural ability to ride. A footsoldier at heart, the man resisted the urge to grip his weapon with two hands and be ready to thrust it forward to catch his rival directly in the chest. No, his purpose during this battle was something far greater than just to keep his second-born son on the farm.
"Ngh... A-Alright, here goes! C'mon, Gracie, we're takin' my ol' man down today! Hyaa, hyaa!" the 15 year old exclaimed as he spurred the steed onward. In understanding, the animal whinnied and began to tighten its arc before finally locking onto a direct blitz toward Reed's father's left hand side. Slowly managing to bring the farming tool around his body, Reed held the weapon with a bent arm until the range dwindled to almost nothing. He swept his arm across his body with a shout, making the tongs hit the rounded middle of the weapon. As quick as he had come, Reed felt himself being carried as fast as the wind past the point of contact. Looking back, he could see that his father had swiped downwards and almost caught his poor Gracie's tail.
"You're predictable, Riley! Had she not saved the both of you, your horse would have been downed and you would have easily been impaled next! Think about your situation and fight like your life depends on it!"
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Reed
Squire
"If some feller gives me a lance, I'm'ma fight tooth 'n nail for what I reckon is right."
Posts: 79
Profession: Farmhand
Affiliation: None
Guild: None
Affinity: Light
Profile: Reed
OoC Alias: Ardent
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Post by Reed on Feb 4, 2018 4:06:05 GMT -6
Begrudgingly, Reed had to admit that his father was right. The initial charges had been reckless and only sought to accomplish one singular goal without considering his opponent's intent behind his strikes. He tugged on the reigns slightly, causing his steed to turn back around and face its rival. "Predictable, eh? How 'bout this then?!" he challenged, locking his legs into two small loops on the saddle at the sides of his horse. With his body firmly connected to the harness, he took his left hand off of the reigns after spurring Gracie forward and gripped his pitchfork in both hands and aimed the weapon forward. With a slightly confused yet accepting look, his father leveled the Horse Slayer with his son and charged forward.
With a slight nod, the squire met the charge with one of his own. Both horses galloped down the field, both very anxious about what was about to happen. "Sorry about this, Riley. But you need to learn. If it's the hard way, so be it..." the lancer mumbled as he aimed the lance downwards. The old man closed his eyes and waited for the dull impact that the lance would make against the steed. A morbid thought, indeed, considering the fact that horses were very important to his wife and children. Being an outsider himself, Reed's father knew nothing of the sacred attachment that Arkyans held for their loyal companions. It took all of his might to push the thoughts to the back of his mind.
That is, if he wasn't assisted by a force that threw his right arm across his body along with the lance. Looking back as Gracie had skidded to a stop, Reed was poised in a position holding the farming tool across his body. Judging from his ending pose and the way the lance moved, he could only deduce that Reed had swung the pitchfork like an axe to knock the incoming thrust away from them both. Concealing a small smile, he commanded his mount to turn around so he could try again.
"Rrgh... You ain't touchin' her, Pa! I reckon I'm onto what yer doin', 'n you ain't ever gonna hit her with that!" he smirked with pride and pulled the reigns again to turn around. With a labored and rather unstable control over the tool, he swung the pitchfork again to intercept the incoming thrust: this time originally aimed at the shoulder. The cone shape of the Horse Slayer was momentarily caught in between the tongs, and a small amount of sparks flew as the metal collided and scraped. Pushing the pitchfork forward with two hands, gradually the lance was repelled and his father drew back with a proud chuckle. "Hm. You're learning, Riley. Now the real fight begins. Come! I'm not letting up until you knock me down!"
"Heh. You're wonderin' where I get that 'never give in, never give up' attitude from still? If you ain't quittin', then I ain't quittin'. Hyaa!" the farmboy exclaimed, shifting his grip on the tool again back to his original position and approaching again. Now that he had a basic understanding of what his weapon could do that his father's couldn't ever hope of doing, it was as if he could see some sort of opportunity on the horizon. Though not much of an optimistic view of the match and though his hand was shaky and his body tense, Reed still saw a way to pull through.
He just needed to find a way to get his old man off of his horse without Gracie kicking his teeth in first.
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Reed
Squire
"If some feller gives me a lance, I'm'ma fight tooth 'n nail for what I reckon is right."
Posts: 79
Profession: Farmhand
Affiliation: None
Guild: None
Affinity: Light
Profile: Reed
OoC Alias: Ardent
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Post by Reed on Feb 6, 2018 22:48:59 GMT -6
Charge after charge was met with one seemingly just as powerful if not stronger for poor Reed. He finally settled after five or six potential trades with sweat pooling upon his forehead and a tired pant. Having to deflect the powerful, stubborn stabs aimed at him and his horse with his meager pitchfork had taken more of a toll on him than he had anticipated. Reed tugged on the fingerless glove fastened tight to his hand, soothing the horse that had been begrudgingly obeying the commands to make a blitzkrieg for her rival.
"...Riley. I get that you want her to fight as hard as you do. But making her give her all over nothing but traded blows will only make her agitated and less likely to believe in your abilities. Start making her work less while you work more," the farmboy could hear his father say critically. He gritted his teeth and spurred his horse onwards, ignoring the advice as he approached once more for a direct swipe with his right. Immediately, the lancer moved his weapon with a surprising speed and swung to intercept the pitchfork. Reed braced for impact as he felt the farming tool leave his hands as the long, flat side of the Horse Slayer smacked him clean off of his horse and bouncing onto the ground before finally landing on his stomach, his mouth full of dirt and a few scrapes along his bare forearms.
Pushing himself to a knee and looking up at his father, Reed bit his lip slightly as the aging soldier shook his head disapprovingly. Gracie, finding a moment to run off, had made a break for the water trough. "...A-Alright, Pa, I get it. Yer sayin' that Gracie ain't gonna carry my weight if she don't believe I can help 'er out, but whaddaya reckon I do 'bout it?" the squire mumbled after spitting out the dust that had settled on his tongue. Reed's father whistled to summon his son's steed from the water trough, sighing. "I can't tell you the answer to that, boy. She is your horse, and you are her master. You know what she expects of you."
After hoisting himself up and picking up the pitchfork that had landed on the ground earlier with a thud just before its wielder did, Reed called his horse over and gently got back into the saddle. "C'mon, girl... I'm really tryin' mighty hard to do my best for ya here, but he's stronger than me. That weapon's scary as all get-out, 'n I don't wantcha to take it head-on.." he mumbled. The animal simply exhaled through its nose and kicked at the dirt, seemingly ready for another charge.
Suddenly, the revelation of what Gracie was trying to say dawned upon him: she wanted to keep charging forward, but the way he handled the clashes were what made them ineffective. Hmm... So if swingin' at 'im like I'm gonna overpower 'im ain't workin', maybe I should try somethin' else! Gosh, thanks, Gracie! Somehow yer savin' my hide. the boy thought to himself as he patted the back of her neck softly. Nodding and brandishing the pitchfork as he did before, Reed set his sights for his father's midsection... Or, rather, the side of it that he could hit if he faked a strike.
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Reed
Squire
"If some feller gives me a lance, I'm'ma fight tooth 'n nail for what I reckon is right."
Posts: 79
Profession: Farmhand
Affiliation: None
Guild: None
Affinity: Light
Profile: Reed
OoC Alias: Ardent
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Post by Reed on Feb 10, 2018 21:29:27 GMT -6
Blood was pumping and hearts was racing- rather, one heart was racing. Reed's father hardly seemed worried at all. The initial charge was to be expected, after all. Reed could hardly control his horse when she took a flying leap anyways, and the noble beast wasn't properly saddled up (making it rather amusing to see the squire bounce up and down in rhythm with the galloping), so any aerial strikes would be a disaster. As he had before, Reed's father put up his lance and readied another thrust to break his opponent's guard with one powerful blow.
However, as the much more agile and smaller rider cleverly swerved out of the path, a pounding pain erupted across his back and caused him to grunt. The pitchfork, while not necessarily dealing a piercing blow, had made solid contact with his back through one quick backhanded swing. Had it been a real battle weapon, the strike would easily disarm a regular soldier if it struck harder. "Yeehaw, Gracie! That's the ticket!" Reed celebrated as his horse made another left turn to go back again for another round. The old lancer groaned and turned his horse again to face the squire again. This time, he had begun charging before Reed even stopped turning. The pitch black stallion had performed a flawless lunge forward as its master swung the lance down firmly. With a crack of the reigns, Reed barely managed to speed his horse up and only barely had the lance miss his horse's back leg.
"What's the matter, Riley? Once you hit a warrior, they will try to hit you back twice as hard! Running away will only make the situation worse!" his father shouted over. The trainee, though struggling to listen and learn from the wiser warrior, did not feel that deep down that was the answer to do what he knew he had a shot at accomplishing. Something inside said that he was doing something right, that it was okay to not stand his ground and duel one-on-one. "The matter is, Pa, that I ain't half as good as you are at fightin'. But Gracie can beat you, 'n that's what I'm gonna count on her for!"
With that, master and mount had already set their sights on the enemy once more. Reed could feel the morning air blowing at his curly locks, occasionally fluttering in front of his eyes to obstruct his top peripheral vision. As the distance closed, the lancer readied the Horse Slayer to swipe. Reed, with held breath and gritted teeth, switched around the weapon to have the dull wooden end sticking up towards the breastplate of his rival. He let out a shout and jammed the tool forward.
A resounding thunk of wood-on-metal resounded followed by a thud in the dirt and the clang of metal striking pebbles on the ground. Looking back, Reed could see his father with a shocked stare up at him next to his prized lance on his rear. He had won the bet, letting the heat of the moment overwhelm his senses and take him away. Yes, taken away from the gashes and scrapes left from close calls at the end of the lance.
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Reed
Squire
"If some feller gives me a lance, I'm'ma fight tooth 'n nail for what I reckon is right."
Posts: 79
Profession: Farmhand
Affiliation: None
Guild: None
Affinity: Light
Profile: Reed
OoC Alias: Ardent
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Post by Reed on Feb 11, 2018 23:25:01 GMT -6
"...Hm. Well done, boy. You know that the mightiest end of your weapon doesn't have to be the pointed end in some situations," Reed's father admitted as he pushed himself up to face the squire that had led his horse back over to his landing point. He chuckled, picking up the mighty Horse Slayer that had been coated with a thin layer of dirt and used it to hoist himself up. The farmhand's blow had done a bit of damage to his already wounded back, but he refused to comment on it. After all, Reed seemed very satisfied with his performance. It was good to let him celebrate this time, for he had caught him off guard for once.
And celebrate he did. Just prior to approaching him, Reed had thrown his pitchfork onto the ground during the wide turn, pumped his arms in the air victoriously, and shouted to the heavens about how he finally managed to do it. "Yes, finally I did it! Hear that, world? Reed ain't no lil' boy no more, but a man!" he shouted proudly. Sliding off of Gracie's back and stopping himself, he straightened his cloak with a panicked look as he straightened his poise. Being a braggart wasn't necessarily something that he had a right to be. Knocking one man off of a horse that he was not as adept at riding was hardly an accomplishment to celebrate the way he did. "Huh? O-Oh, uh, sorry Pa! You did mighty fine too, don't get the wrong idea! I-I was just pretty darn lucky that I got that in when I could!"
A few seconds passed as the two men stared at each other before the elder laughed, nodding. "You deserve this moment, Riley. Though it isn't much, you were able to dismount me. The match would have gone smoothly against a foe more adept at riding and less capable on foot; you did do what I asked you to. Congratulations," he reassured. The squire's face regained the same ecstatic grin that he had moments before, returning to celebrating as he had.
"Reed, that was downright amazin'! You were swingin' that thing 'round a'n he was swingin' the other thing 'round, 'n you did it better!"
Running to meet the two was Beth, who was dragging her small wooden hoe making a long line through the dirt. Reed smirked and picked her up as she leaped to him, resting her on his shoulders. The sharp pain from the cut stung, but he did his best to hide it. "Really? I mean, it wasn't as good as I wanted it to be, but if you liked it, then it might as well be great," the farmer admitted as his little sibling kicked her legs. With a sigh and a slight nod, his father managed to take the little girl off of his shoulders to ease the pressure on the wounds. "Come on, you two. Riley needs some patching up from those cuts, and Gracie could use the rest. Let's go."
Safe to say, that pitchfork sticking out of the dirt as the trio walked back to the house would see many more battles. The tool would serve more than its meager purpose of shoveling hay and cultivating the land, and it would probably see wherever the wind takes it. Much the same could be said of the sapling with the green cloak, its roots too small to stick in its birthplace. Only time will tell where adventure will take it, whether to grandeur or to a grizzly end.
[Exit thread]
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