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32. Training with Tavish

32. Training with Tavish

Arriving earlier than usual at the training ground Micky was surprised to see Ingunn was not alone. Stood beside her and dwarfing her with his enormous mass was a hulking daimh.

Noticing Micky approaching the man raised one enormous hand in his direction. “Ye mist be Micky, guid tae finally catch up wi` ye”.

Walking over to the pair Micky nodded in greeting. “Yep, that’s me. Good to meet you mate. I didn’t catch your name though?”

“Ah, A'm tavish, seicont in command fur this lot” he gestured broadly, encompassing both Ingunn and the surrounding buildings.

In response to Tavish’s open welcome, Ingunn remained terse. “Good, you have met now. Let’s train.” Throwing both Micky and Tavish a grim look as she collected two quarterstaves and handed them out. “Strike. Block. Repeat. Follow my pattern.”

Ingunn swung her own staff in a low sweeping motion, the cloth shod end almost sweeping the dirt. One hand slid to the very bottom of the staff while the other acted as a fulcrum two-thirds of the way down. It was a strike aimed at the ankle, not fatal but painful and distracting. She looked directly back at Micky and Tavish before continuing, “Now you try.”

“That doesn’t look too hard” Micky replied with a smile, sliding his hands along his own staff before mimicking the strike. With the guiding hand too low Micky swung, the cap of his staff dragging a furrow in the dirt of the training floor before skipping upwards. The cloud of dust trailing his staff firing directly at the dragebarn, coating her in a fine layer of grit.

“Uh sorry, that totally wasn’t meant to happen” he apologized quickly.

“No, it was sloppy. Do it again” Ingunn replied through clenched teeth.

“Huv a go it lik' this Micky“ rumbled Tavish before placing his hands with exaggerated care. The thick oaken stave looked like a switch between the daimh’s massive hands, the wood whistling through the air in a perfect copy of Ingunn’s strike.

Following Tavish’s hand placement carefully Micky repeated the low strike, the end still dipping low but avoiding the ground this time.

“Better” commented Ingunn without emotion. “Now the block. Tavish, repeat the strike but aim for my ankle. Do it at half speed first.”

“As ye lik.” Tavish turned so his body was perpendicular to Ingunn, then began the strike, controlling it carefully through the motion.

Ingunn seemed to almost blur in comparison, swinging her leading leg back away from the strike before it could land. Her staff swung overhand to trap Tavish’s against the hard-packed dirt. “Now you try Micky. Tavish quarter speed this time.”

Tavish rotated slowly towards Micky, allowing him to take up the bladed stance Ingunn had taught them both. “Urr ye ready Micky?”

“Yeah mate, swing away. We’re going slowly though right? Micky asked with a nervous grin at the larger man.

“Aye, yin quarter speed” Tavish replied before hoisting his staff. With almost glacial slowness the tip swag towards Micky’s left ankle. In response Micky was able to copy the sliding step, pulling his leading foot from the path of the strike. As he swung downwards to trap the staff he leaned forward, overbalancing and stumbling.

“No. Your balance is off. Keep your head up and eyes on Tavish. Again.” Ingunn’s sharp voice seemed to boom across the training ground.

Several failed attempts later Micky achieved the trapping action, successfully locking the larger man’s staff to the ground with his own.

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Ingunn looked up at this. “Better Micky. Now repeat the pattern. One strike, one block. Do it until you can feel the pattern.”

Falling into a rhythm of blocks and attacks Micky felt his movements becoming smoother. His staff no longer threatened the training ground surface on the attack, at his blocks began to trap his opponent more often than not.

Ingunn strolled over to the practicing pair, going over their actions with a critical eye. “Much better. Can you feel the rhythm of it?”

“Yeah, I think I get it. Sort of anyway” replied Micky, taking a brief pause from his actions to face the diminutive dragebarn.

“Good. Let’s move on. It’s time for you to choose a real weapon. I think you can be trusted not to cut your own foot off now.”

“Uh, thanks. I think” Micky laughed. “I don’t really know what to choose mate. It’s hard to choose not knowing what I might have to use it for.”

“What is any weapon for?” Asked Ingunn before looking at both Micky and Tavish. “To protect yourself when everything else goes wrong.”

“Yeah, I get that bit, but it doesn’t really help me with the whole choice thing. Before coming to Outremer the sum total of my martial experience is a couple of punch ups during a rugby game.”

Ingunn seemed to consider this for a moment. “You’re not awful with the staff. It gives you some range as well. Against things that will almost always be stronger than you, that’s important. A spear would work, or maybe a glaive?”

“A glaive? That’s like a big long axe thing right?” Micky asked, his eyebrow raised at Ingunn’s sudden loquaciousness. This was a side of her he hadn’t seen before. A careful adviser rather than the stern taskmaster.

“Yes. It would give you range and stopping power. The size and weight would be an issue for you though. In your place, I would choose the spear.”

“Far be it from me to question the expert. Spear it is then.” With a wide grin, he turned to Tavish. “What do you use mate?”

“Ah uise a war-hammer. Ah whiles ye juist need tae squash hings.” The daimh’s broad face spread in a grin.

Micky gulped audibly, imagining the massive man swinging a two-handed hammer instead of the oaken staff. “BLEEP me dead Tavish, I’m glad you’re on my side mate.”

“Nae tae worry Micky. A'm gonnae go noo, git some wirk tae dae.” Tavish strode to the side of the training area, racking up his staff before striding back into the main compound.

“I’ll get a spear. Wait here.” Ingunn turned and strode purposefully into the warehouse, leaving Micky alone in the now quiet training area.

Ingunn returned with two long wooden spears, their steel tips capped in leather casings. She carefully handed one to Micky, whose hand dropped under its weight.

“This thing is bloody heavy Ingunn, what’s it made from?” He asked with a grimace, hefting the spear in one hand.

“The shaft is Sho-Ja wood, for strength and flexibility. The head is plain forged steel.” Ingunn whirled her one spear around her, shifting it between a one-handed and a two-handed grip with familiar ease. “You’ll get used to it”.

Several hours later, and as the proud new owner of several deep bruises, Micky sunk down against the wall next to the spigot. Drinking gratefully he splashed water over his head and neck. Somewhat refreshed he sat back to examine his system notifications.

*Ding* Congratulations, through training and hard work under a skilled trainer your Quarterstaff Combat Skill has progressed to Novice (5)

*Ding* Congratulations, you have learned the Skill Spear Combat - Novice (1)

*Ding* Congratulations, through training and hard work under a skilled trainer your Spear Combat Skill has progressed to Novice (4)

Micky was so engrossed by his progress that he failed to notice Gwilym approaching him, strolling slowly across the training ground.

“You look deep in thought byt, good news I hope?” Gwilym asked with a smile, startling Micky out of his menus.

“Ah hey, Gwilym. Yeah, it’s all good mate. I’m just checking out my Skill upgrades. Ingunn has been working me pretty hard but it’s paying off.”

“That's good to hear Micky, I’m glad you’re training hard. I’ve actually come to talk to you about that.”

“Sure mate, what’s on your mind?”

“Have you had much practice with the Bard Abilities Mattheo has been teaching you?”

“Not really, we’ve mostly just been playing together, working on my performance skills.”

“That’s kind of what I was worried about, we need to put in some work with those before we take you into the field. Those Abilities, both the buffs and your direct combat Abilities, are a big part of what you can bring to our team. It will not do to neglect them.”

“Ok, mate. Sure. What do I need to do?” Micky asked with a smile.

“Simple, instead of playing this afternoon I want you to meet me here. We can head to the range and work on some more direct actions. You can meet Yan at the same time.”

“Not a problem. I’ll see you here after lunch then.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Micky. Don’t forget the Vaixell, you’re going to need it.”