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The clearing that The Matriarch set down on was easily two-hundred feet across in all directions – a massive circle of soft, green grass that twitched slightly as tiny insects hopped around. She set Tristan down and he found the footing beneath to be surprisingly firm considering the grassy terrain.
Fairy dragons began flying to the edges of the clearing and working in tandem to move a variety of cross-shaped beams into the training field, planting them in the ground. The Matriarch shifted to her elfanoid form and gestured widely at the whole space. “This is the training grounds of your forebears. The wooden targets are regenerative. And, if you seek to practice against a foe that is actively attacking you we have plenty of Adamant Wood weapons and armor that my children can outfit themselves with.”
As she spoke, four fairy dragons flew out from the forest line, shifting into elfanoid forms that were a little shorter than Tristan. Teenage-sized. More fairy dragons flew after them and with much chatter, several comments regarding how well ‘endowed’ they were with their physique, and plenty of insults levied both ways – the group of four elfanoid fairy dragons were equipped with the armor and weapons.
Tristan nodded, “Good to know. Thank you. Do you have a spare practice sword? I don’t want to risk hurting anyone.”
A pair of fairy dragons flitted away to the edge of the clearing, vanishing into the trees before returning with four different Adamant Wood weapons – a two-handed maul, a two-handed sword, a one-handed sword, and a one-handed hammer. They set the weapons on the ground before flying over to some of the branches, lounging from the boughs with their dozens of siblings as they ate starberries and watched the field.
Tristan looked over the various weapons. “I’m most familiar with a sword,” he muttered as he reached down and grabbed the one-handed blade. The hilt was shorter than that of his family weapon – because his had the space for two hands to increase cutting power. And this blade was shorter. But, if I’m going to be doing spell gestures mid-combat, I need to keep a hand free.
He looked at the four fairy dragons dressed up in equipment, and they were chatting with each other idly. The Matriarch tapped Tristan’s shoulder, “If you plan on sparring with magic involved, be careful. My children are sturdy but they can perish. Especially with such an unrelenting spell type as ice elementalism.”
“I wanted to train on distance and drop-off a bit,” Tristan replied as he walked to the far edge of the clearing. The Matriarch and the four fairy dragons followed him. “I have a Greatbow back with my gear. And a quiver of arrows. But I think that being able to fight with a sword and then swap to fire at a distant target is going to be beneficial.”
“I agree,” The Matriarch replied. “If you are well-settled here, I will return to preparing your various potions for eventual imbuement.” Tristan nodded, she bowed, and she shifted to her full fairy-dragon form once more before lifting off with mighty flaps of her wings that bent the grass downward and threatened to bowl Tristan over from the force of the air.
He turned to the four fairy dragons dressed up in armor.
“I’m bored.”
“Can we start hitting each other?”
“As long as no nut-shots are allowed!”
“That’s one of the best ways to win though! Fight dirty.”
Tristan shook his head and chuckled. “What I’d like to do is practice a few Frost Flurries at the more distant targets, and when I’ve got a gauge for the arc of the projectile, practice fighting one of you while also shooting projectiles.” He looked between the four of them. “One of you will fight with me, the others are going to grab some of those targets and run around with them. Varying ranges.”
The fairy dragons all saluted and then immediately circled up, bickered for a few seconds, and then picked some grass and drew straws for who would have to run the targets back and forth. With that decided, one of the older-looking ones who came up to just under Tristan’s height squared up to him.
“Give me a moment to test range, first,” Tristan said as he turned to the field. Raising his left hand – wanting to get used to using his off-hand to fire the projectiles – he put his fingers together, thumb on top of the knuckle, and spun his essence crucible. Pushing the essence into his fingertips, he took aim at a tree on the far side of the clearing. Okay. One-hundred feet before the falloff. And that full distance from here to there is two-hundred feet.
“Ich beschwöre die Wut von Eis und Frost herauf: Ich forme Splitter, die mein Ziel durchbohren und aufschlitzen.” (I summon forth the fury of ice and frost: form shards that will pierce and slash my target).
He poured as much essence as he could into the spell, spinning his crucible as fast as he could to do it quickly. The tiny bead of ice grew to an enormous icicle within seconds, and he launched it forth. After flying out the one-hundred foot distance, it began to arc downward before grinding into the ground.
Tristan was shaking from exhaustion and reverse-spun his crucible to suck in the ambient essence of the Fey Realm. Right. Now to do some of varying sizes, and then see if there is a difference in falloff distance based on size. He raised his hand and repeated the spell a few times creating different sized icicles. Then, he called out to the fairy dragons scattered across the field, “What’s the dropoff like?”
One of the armored fairy dragons unfurled his wings from small slats in the back of his Adamant Wood armor and fluttered over to the impact points. “They’re all equal!”
Projectile drop-off isn’t affected by the size of the projectile. Good. “Okay, how far did they go past the hundred-foot mark?”
“What?”
Tristan sighed, “Go to where it started to curve downward, and tell me how much farther it went before hitting the ground.”
The fairy dragon nodded and began pacing out from the top of the projectile’s line of fire to where it descended and ultimately impacted. “Looks like a couple of feet! Like, ten!”
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Tristan closed his eyes and imagined the arc of an arrow. Way shorter than an arrow’s flight. Maybe a quarter-draw from the bow I had to practice with. Which means if I angle this just right, I can find the maximum range. He nodded, “Clear off the center!”
The fairy dragon did so, and Tristan aimed his hand up into the sky at the perfect launch angle for a maximum-range bow-shot. Spinning his essence crucible once more, he fired off a fist-sized icicle, watching the projectile sail upward before gently arcing and flying to the edge of the tree-line. Seems like the maximum with the perfect arc is two-hundred feet. Double the base distance. An archer would outrange me…but perfectly straight projectiles within one-hundred feet is still a really valuable surprise maneuver.
Reverse-spinning his essence crucible he looked at the fairy dragon who was leaning on his sword and picking his ear with a hand. “Ready to fight?” Tristan asked.
The fairy dragon quickly flicked his finger away from him, gripped the wooden practice sword, and raised it. “Ready whenever!”
Tristan glanced down the field. “Start running across with the targets!” The other fairy dragons did so, and he turned back to the combatant in front of him. “I want you to come at me like you’re trying to kill me.”
The fairy dragon frowned a little, “The Matriarch said we should never really hurt you.”
“I believe I outrank her,” Tristan said with a smile. “Do as I say…and please come at me like you’re trying to kill me.”
The fairy dragon nodded and rushed forward, unleashing an overhead chop that was vicious and almost wild. In fact, it was such an amateur swing that Tristan just stepped forward, met the blade with his own, and deflected it down to the side – putting his foot out and kicking the fairy dragon on the rump; sending the smaller person sprawling into the grass.
As they recovered, Tristan raised his offhand and aimed at the closest of the moving target dummies. “Ich beschwöre die Wut von Eis und Frost herauf-” He was only partway through saying the spell phrase when he had to focus once more on the threat in front of him. He once more parried a wild strike – this one horizontal that he deflected upward, and he pushed forward as he swept the legs with his heel. The fairy dragon went down.
Can I just finish the phrase or do I have to start over? I mean, this is training. I’ll just finish the phrase. “-Ich forme Splitter, die mein Ziel durchbohren und aufschlitzen.” The shard of ice manifested in his palm, and he could only push enough essence into it at his current crucible-spin speed to create a finger-sized projectile. He willed it to release, and it rocketed forward, hitting the target just to the left of where he was aiming. It doesn’t home in on the target, so when they’re moving I have to lead it.
Once more he had to turn to face a simple attack. Instead of parrying and pushing his foe off balance, Tristan simply engaged in a series of blocks. This isn’t really a challenge. Not like those mercenaries I fought. “I don’t want to be rude…but do you have any more skilled fighters?”
The fairy dragon frowned and pulled back, huffing and taking deep breaths. “I’m a good fighter!”
Tristan rolled his eyes, “Sure you are. Look; you’re outmatched here. I need someone who can keep up with me.”
He heard the enormous flapping once more, and looking back saw The Matriarch had returned. She unshifted, walked over to the smaller fairy dragon in elfanoid form, and pushed him to the edge of the clearing. “Go on. Lord Tristan needs a stronger opponent.”
The smaller fairy dragon nodded, handed his gear over to her, and then reverted to his small, fox-like form, shouting “Beat him up, mom!” as he left.
The Matriarch chuckled, “I apologize, Lord Tristan. My children are not trained combatants. Is that something you wish to alter? I can put together a training program.”
“If you think it is valuable,” Tristan replied. “I trust you to rule the Fey Realm as you have been for however long you have been. You know better than I how it should operate.”
She smiled gently, “That is thoughtful. Now…you wished for a combatant who pushes you to your limits?” she put on the armor, helmet, and picked up the practice sword. It was almost dainty in her hands, and she held up a finger. “One moment.” She walked over to the area where the various weapons had been placed, and picked up the two-handed maul. It looked like a one-handed weapon in her grip – that was just how large she was. Taking up a combat stance, the soft smile turned to a taut expression. “Ready?”
Tristan nodded and twirled the one-handed blade in his grip. “Ready.”
She rushed forward and swung the enormous hammer horizontally. Tristan knew he could not parry and would have to deflect or dodge. Jumping back, he began spinning his essence crucible and pushing the essence into his left hand. In between The Matriarch’s swings, he spoke each word of the spell phrase, little by little.
“Ich beschwöre die,” he dodged to the side as a massive, overhand swing went thud into the ground. “Wut von Eis und,” he stepped into her guard and stabbed forward to her midsection. She brought the shaft of the hammer up to deflect his strike, and then brought the head of the maul in a small, tight circle which crushed into his chest and flung him backward onto his butt. He groaned, but made sure even as he air escaped his lungs, he spoke the next lines. “Frost herauf: Ich forme Splitter.”
The Matriarch ran up and swung down at him, and he had to roll out of the way before scrambling to his feet and raising his sword. She came in again and choked up her grip on the hammer’s shaft to enable faster swings with the heavy head. Tristan was pushed to the limits of his capabilities when it came to deflecting, feeling the reverberating impacts shake his arm with each successful deflection.
Then, and idea struck him. On her next swing, he intentionally let loose the grip of his weapon so that the expected resistance she would have anticipated was not there, and it made her swing slightly beyond what she anticipated, bringing her just a little off balance. Tristan leaped forward towards her, getting right alongside her and pinning the shaft of the hammer between their torsos. “-die mein Ziel durchbohren und aufschlitzen!”
The icicle formed in his hand, and he pressed it against her stomach. “I win,” he growled out.
She glanced down and let out a slight laugh that was…enchanting was the only way Tristan could describe it. “Excellent show. Surrendering your weapon to get in close and relying on a ranged spell to inflict damage up close; which would catch an essence-weaver off guard, much less a normal combatant.” She tapped his shoulder, “I yield – but you should still try and hit one of my children with their targets.”
Tristan pulled himself back from her and took aim at the farthest target at the far side of the clearing. Angling his arm up, and glancing to make sure he was leading the target, he let loose and the icicle went rocketing upward before beginning its descent.
“Oh! So close,” The Matriarch said as the icicle embedded right in front of the dummy being carried by the fairy dragon.
Tristan clicked his tongue as he leaned down to pick up the practice blade. “I need to practice more.”
She smiled, “Further rounds, Lord Tristan?”
He nodded and gestured for the hammer, “I want to try something. It seems like the best way to reliably blend essence-weaving with martial prowess is to use large weapons to buy space and time to say the spell phrase.”
The Matriarch nodded and handed the maul to him, “That is the way of your ancestors. Blending spells with weapons. The first Fey Lady, Zeltana, fought with a massive hammer that came from the Queen’s Wood. An enormous, mighty maul that was quite unique in that, in her hands, was terrifying to behold.”
Tristan nodded as he hefted the weapon, “This won’t be super useful against dragons – you need blades to get in between the scales or into vital spots. But against people?” He flipped the weapon in his hands a few times to get used to the weight. “Yes, I could see how it is valuable.”
The Matriarch went over to the two-handed sword and lifted it. “Shall we give this a go, then?”
Tristan nodded and lifted the maul, “I need to hone my use of this offensive spell.”
“On guard!” The Matriarch rushed forward.