"The relevant equation is: Knowledge = power = energy = matter = mass; a good bookshop is just a genteel Black Hole that knows how to read." - Terry Pratchett
Caelius frowns, and points to the sword on her back and points at his own wingless back and arms and then points out, "But You Can He-A-R, And Say So-Me-T-H-ing-S."
"The relevant equation is: Knowledge = power = energy = matter = mass; a good bookshop is just a genteel Black Hole that knows how to read." - Terry Pratchett
"Is a c-u-r-s-e. D-a-m-n-e-d to be f-l-i-g-h-t-l-e-s-s. D-a-m-n-e-d to be s-p-e-e-c-h-l-e-s-s. You have m-a-g-i-c. You can f-i-g-h-t. You are s-t-r-o-n-g."
"The relevant equation is: Knowledge = power = energy = matter = mass; a good bookshop is just a genteel Black Hole that knows how to read." - Terry Pratchett
"The relevant equation is: Knowledge = power = energy = matter = mass; a good bookshop is just a genteel Black Hole that knows how to read." - Terry Pratchett
"The relevant equation is: Knowledge = power = energy = matter = mass; a good bookshop is just a genteel Black Hole that knows how to read." - Terry Pratchett
Caelius looks out at the campsite. He gestures and cracks his knuckles on his right hand. A few feet away, a skeletal hand appears, floats over to his bag, pulls out a second book and brings it over to him. The hand points in the wordbook.
"I Don't Know If Be-ing M-U-T-E Is The C-O-S-T For My M-A-G-I-C Or The Other W-A-Y A-R-O-U-N-D. But I Know That The L-I-G-H-T Has Give-N Me A S-E-C-O-N-D C-H-A-N-C-E."
Caelius smiles and shrugs, the hand still pointing, "It Might Not Be Your S-I-T-U-A-T-I-O-N But That-'-s Help-ed Me On D-A-R-K D-A-Y-S. I am Here If You Want To T-A-L-K."
"The relevant equation is: Knowledge = power = energy = matter = mass; a good bookshop is just a genteel Black Hole that knows how to read." - Terry Pratchett
As Taran leads the way to the tree, Lanan is quiet. Once you get to the tree, he nods and draws his sword, slinging his shield into an active position. "You want to spar with one another, or just practice separately?"
"Um..." Taran hesitates as he draws his shortsword and checks the edge, "Either w-way is good with me... I, um, I'm not sure if it would be beneficial to spar together or not... Like I said, I'm not very good yet. Barely passable really. You saw how poorly I did against Mister Jharee after all"
"You did perfectly fine against the spy," Lanan says shortly. "And making yourself out as worse than you are isn't helping anyone." He slips into a fighting stance. "Ready?"
"I'm not trying to make myself out as worse than I am," Taran says with a shake of his head, "Father was very clear that I was a poor student as he trained me. Even after six years of training I never struck him more than once." Taran enters his own stance, keeping lose, watching the center of his opponent for the slightest movement, "And I never could take more than six or seven serious blows before my body completely gave out. I'm definitely far too weak to be his son."
A blink after entering his stance he darts forward, his small blade driving upwards towards the taller man's face. His shield will rise to block it, and then in the moment he can't see him he will slip behind the soldier and press the attack where he is less defended.
Lanan gives a grunt of pain, but reacts promptly, lines of pain suddenly smoothing from his face as he swings his sword into a neat circle. And promptly crashes through Taran's guard, his sword stopping an inch from Taran's throat. "End of round," he says, clearly and carefully as he lowers his sword.
Taran's arm trembles with the aftershocks of the soldier's blow, and he feels the bruises spreading across his palm. He bows his head, disgusted with the loss, and Taran looks at the slice his blade left on Mr. Lanan during their exchange.
"Um.. Would you... do you want me to bandage that... before we go again? I'll try to do better next time, so you actually get some benefit from the sparring."
He switches his shortsword to his other hand and kneads the flesh of his palm to make sure the feeling is back in it. "I know I should have been able to dodge that, instead of standing there and trying to block it. That was foolish of me. I'll try not to make the same mistake twice."
Lanan shakes his head. "I'll be fine. And you hit pretty hard yourself. Most people underestimate the amount of power I put behind my blows. Like you said, the trick isn't to totally block it. It's to either deflect or dodge it, rather than going all-out in a contest of strength. That's exactly what we're trained for, after all."
"Ok," Taran says transferring his sword back to his dominant hand, "Um, do you want to start this one or should I start us off again?" He settles in his stance again, keeping light on his feet so he can dodge to either side the moment his opponent moved.
"You start again," Lanan suggests.
Taran didn't hesitate, moving in fast and low. The soldier's blows were far more powerful than his own, so he'd overwhelm him with speed. He angled to the side, slicing towards the forearm of his opponent's weapon hand as he moved past. He kept moving, circling, trying to get him to lose his stance in the shuffle of feet, as he came around his opponents otherside, his left hand darted down and drew his dagger in a thrust for his lower back.
Lanan grunts and spins, the dagger glancing off his chainmail as he brings his sword around low. Pulling the blow at the last moment so that it barely brushes Taran's ribs rather than cracking them. "Okay, this time we start sixty feet apart," he suggests. "Try a different method of practice."
Taran's arm tenses as the blow fails to land fully, intending to send his dagger forward into the soldier's face. Then Taran blinks and backs off as Mr. Lanan starts speaking. He wipes some sweat from his brow as he looks over the wounds he's left on the former Harmonious Shield.
"O-Okay, umm, are you sure y-you don't want a bandage for the bleeding. I-I don't want it interfering with your grip." Taran resheathes his dagger and runs a finger over the light cut on his leather armor from Mr. Lanan's sword, "Um, and with us starting further apart... do you want me to use my c-crossbow? Or do you w-want to charge m-my position instead of me charging yours?"
Lanan shakes his head. "It won't be an issue, I'm trained to keep going through injuries. And I suppose your method of attack is up to you. In a real battle, my goal would be to close with you as soon as possible, so I'll be charging you." He backs up to about sixty feet, clearly taking this training just as seriously as you. "Do you need me to keep calling dead when one of us is hit to make the end of the round clear?"
Taran turned to move as well, but flinches at Lanan's last words.
"It-it helps," he'll say after moment, "S-since... since you aren't actually landing the final blow. Father... Father didn't hold back like that. It's confusing me a little, and... and I don't want to strike you outside of sparring, when you think we're done..." Unseen by Lanan pure terror races across Taran's face for an instant, "Th-th-that w-w-would b-b-be... unacceptable... he taught me that too."
He turns, leveling his crossbow at the armored figure. "R-r-ready, Mr. Lanan?"
Lanan sighs. "One, it's an understandable mistake, which is why I asked. Two, I might be ready, but you're not. Calm down, relax, and you're less likely to rush or mess up the shot." He assumes a ready position
"R-right," Taran says taking a deep breath.
On the exhale he fires, the snap of the lathe only warning for the soldier. He reloads on the move, darting another 30 ft away by the time he's finished and spinning around to aim once more at his opponent.
Lanan sprints after Taran, grunting as the crossbow bolt smashes into his armor. He gets within 30 feet, giving you a quick, approving nod on the way.
Once more, Taran can get one more shot off before the soldier will close. He's just too slow, too weak. He snaps off another shot, cold eyes aiming for the soldier's hip. Even if it doesn't pierce the armor, it might slow him down. As his shot leaps between them he's moving again, keeping him at least 60 ft away. As he reloads though, he slips one of his daggers out of its sheath and hold it under the crossbow, ideally, the soldier won't notice and he'll get an extra layer of surprise on the attack.
Lanan bats the bolt out of the air with his sword and crosses the remaining distance, getting adjacent to Taran.
He drops the crossbow, flashing out the dagger towards the soldier's face. Then he'll dart past, drawing the shortsword and swinging it hard against the backs of his knees while he's recovering. He can't let him swing that sword, a single blow, every time. He can't let it happen again.
The dagger swings up, catching Lanan under the chin and drawing a small amount of blood as he pulls back quickly, saying sharply. "Dead. Round over." He gives you a nod. "See the difference?"
Taran stumbles to a stop, shock breaking his concentration.
"W-wait, seriously? But-but you dodged." Taran stammers. He points at Mr. Lanan's heavy sword with his shortsword, forgetting for a moment that he is armed, "You could have easily finished me again... I-I can't have w-w-w-won...Th-that's... that not possible..." He stares at the older man in confusion.
Lanan snorts. "I barely got my neck out of the way. In a real battle, that knee shot would have finished me. So yeah, you won. Why is that so hard to believe?"
"I-I've never won... not once. I always fail and am a dis-disappointment..." Taran feels the prick of tears sting at his eyes again and roughly wipes them away, even as his knees shake, "You-you had to be going easy on me th-that time, b-because... I..." he looks up at the older man, lost and confused,"I... I couldn't really be getting better... not without Father training me... could I?"
Lanan snorts again. "I wasn't going easy on you, that doesn't help anyone. Just because your previous trainer isn't teaching you anymore doesn't mean you've suddenly lost the ability to improve. You can always get better, no matter what, and you do a disservice to yourself, your team, and your country if you assume you've reached the height of your ability."
"But... it wasn't just any teacher... it was Father, he was - is, a legend. And he trained me for years and years, and I never... I never got close to closing that gap, even after everything he sacrificed in training me... And, no one else would have bothered with a worthless student like me, so when he disappeared I... I never thought I would actually get better... I was just... keeping sharp... until he came back. And then maybe... maybe he would be able to teach me how to be better... how to stop hesitating..." Taran slumps the fire dying inside of him.
"How could a worthless student like me... improve myself... when he... it's only been three years. I- I don't understand...You, and Esteemed Vishal... I don't understand."
He sees the drip of blood off of Mister Lanan, and pulls out his healer's kit. "Let me... let me bandage that... before we go back."
"It doesn't matter who your teacher was. Getting better is something anyone can do, the skill of a teacher can just help that along a bit." Lanan studies you with a frown. "What makes you so sure you're worthless? You seemed pretty good to me."
"Father spent years training me," Taran would quietly respond as he was bandaging Lanan's wounds,"and he... I was never able to keep up. I'm slow. I'm weak. I'm clumsy. Every time Father came back home, I'd disappoint him. At-at first, it was because I wasted time... I didn't take my training seriously enough. But even after hours and hours practicing every day..." Taran shrugs, his steady hands expertly tying off the bandages, "I never closed the gap, I never got good enough... It was like I was running in place. If we weren't blood... well, maybe it would have been easier. I would have had an excuse, a reason to be such a disappointing student every time he came back. But what excuse does the son of Halrac the Grim have?"
Taran walks over and picks up his crossbow, checking the wooden structure for damage after he had dropped it on the rocks. Then he began tightening the wooden screws and oiling the line, moving with practiced ease as he continues talking.
"Everyone has been very kind about it though, they encouraged me and tried to make me feel b-better about everything. But... if Father couldn't raise me to even the barest acceptable level... if I never once was able to pass a t-test or l-land a blow... it just means I'm worthless as a student."
Lanan rolls his eyes. "How long did your father train before he started training you?"
"Umm... I think... I think he'd been a member of the Road for three years. He was a hunter before we fled, back in Dor Maleer. He didn't... he didn't like to talk about his time in Riedra."
"So...he'd been training for years and was a fully grown adult, and yet you, a kid still in training, couldn't defeat him?" Lanan raises an eyebrow, heavy sarcasm entering his voice. "You're right, you were definitely a worthless failure. You totally should have been able to get just as good as him in half the time at half his age."
"Well... no, but... that... " Taran keeps his gaze down, hiding his face, "But then... why... why did... why would he s-s-say... why would he say I was worthless... if I wasn't? That-that doesn't make sense...Father... Father was never wrong..." Taran clutched at his sides, shaking like a leaf in thunderstorm.
Lanan sighs. "Look, I don't know your life or your father. But maybe give your self-worth another thought." He sheathes his sword and slings his shield back around to his back.
Taran won't say anything as he begins heading back to camp.
A short time later, Lanan and Taran return to camp.
Taran is shaking a little, looking unsettled.
Lanan has a light bandage on his throat and side, a few specks of blood visible through the white cloth.
Vishal nods at Juhaan's words saying, "Thank you. And that sounds like a good idea." Not really paying super close attention to him before he moves over towards Taran. Making sure he makes enough noise that he can be heard he quietly asks aloud, "Do you mind if I sit here?"
Vishal sits down and let’s few moments of silence pass before he asks, “How’s the soup? I hope it’s alright I kind of just threw stuff stuff together and hopes it works.”
“That’s good. I hope everyone likes it. I just threw some stuff together and then used my magic to balance out the flavors.” Vishal replies giving Taran a soft smile. He then let’s a few minutes of silence pass before he quietly says, “I take it that training didn’t go that well.”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
"They are s-t-r-o-n-g. I am we-a-k." She opens her mouth to coo.
Dungeon Master - LSoL
Kaori - Battlemaster Fighter 5 / Paladin 2 (Kenku) - TSR
Cherna Godhari - Grave Cleric 4 (Human) - TW
Breena Mahi'ai - Divination Wizard 8 (Halfling) - WoE
Sharyn Savonath - Open Sea Paladin 4 (Triton) - PoPI
Zephyr - Four Elements (Revised) Monk 4 (Air Genasi) - IO
Takeshi - Mercy Monk 6 (Protector Aasimar) - TBW
Avrui Sirsash - Genie Warlock 2 (Wildhunt Shifter) - WotBS
Caelius shakes his head, "You Are Not We-A-K. You Would Not Be Here If You Were."
Tooltips | Snippet Code | How to Homebrew on D&D Beyond | Subclass Guide | Feature Roadmap
Astromancer's Homebrew Assembly
"The relevant equation is: Knowledge = power = energy = matter = mass; a good bookshop is just a genteel Black Hole that knows how to read." - Terry Pratchett
She shakes her head. "Can-t f-l-y, can-t f-i-g-h-t, only m-i-m-i-c." She waves her arms and her eyes look sad.
Dungeon Master - LSoL
Kaori - Battlemaster Fighter 5 / Paladin 2 (Kenku) - TSR
Cherna Godhari - Grave Cleric 4 (Human) - TW
Breena Mahi'ai - Divination Wizard 8 (Halfling) - WoE
Sharyn Savonath - Open Sea Paladin 4 (Triton) - PoPI
Zephyr - Four Elements (Revised) Monk 4 (Air Genasi) - IO
Takeshi - Mercy Monk 6 (Protector Aasimar) - TBW
Avrui Sirsash - Genie Warlock 2 (Wildhunt Shifter) - WotBS
Caelius frowns, and points to the sword on her back and points at his own wingless back and arms and then points out, "But You Can He-A-R, And Say So-Me-T-H-ing-S."
Tooltips | Snippet Code | How to Homebrew on D&D Beyond | Subclass Guide | Feature Roadmap
Astromancer's Homebrew Assembly
"The relevant equation is: Knowledge = power = energy = matter = mass; a good bookshop is just a genteel Black Hole that knows how to read." - Terry Pratchett
"Is a c-u-r-s-e. D-a-m-n-e-d to be f-l-i-g-h-t-l-e-s-s. D-a-m-n-e-d to be s-p-e-e-c-h-l-e-s-s. You have m-a-g-i-c. You can f-i-g-h-t. You are s-t-r-o-n-g."
Dungeon Master - LSoL
Kaori - Battlemaster Fighter 5 / Paladin 2 (Kenku) - TSR
Cherna Godhari - Grave Cleric 4 (Human) - TW
Breena Mahi'ai - Divination Wizard 8 (Halfling) - WoE
Sharyn Savonath - Open Sea Paladin 4 (Triton) - PoPI
Zephyr - Four Elements (Revised) Monk 4 (Air Genasi) - IO
Takeshi - Mercy Monk 6 (Protector Aasimar) - TBW
Avrui Sirsash - Genie Warlock 2 (Wildhunt Shifter) - WotBS
"You Have M-A-G-I-C, You Can F-I-G-H-T, You Are S-T-R-O-N-G." Caelius rebuttals.
Tooltips | Snippet Code | How to Homebrew on D&D Beyond | Subclass Guide | Feature Roadmap
Astromancer's Homebrew Assembly
"The relevant equation is: Knowledge = power = energy = matter = mass; a good bookshop is just a genteel Black Hole that knows how to read." - Terry Pratchett
She takes her sword off of her back and looks at it worriedly. "Not my m-a-g-i-c."
Dungeon Master - LSoL
Kaori - Battlemaster Fighter 5 / Paladin 2 (Kenku) - TSR
Cherna Godhari - Grave Cleric 4 (Human) - TW
Breena Mahi'ai - Divination Wizard 8 (Halfling) - WoE
Sharyn Savonath - Open Sea Paladin 4 (Triton) - PoPI
Zephyr - Four Elements (Revised) Monk 4 (Air Genasi) - IO
Takeshi - Mercy Monk 6 (Protector Aasimar) - TBW
Avrui Sirsash - Genie Warlock 2 (Wildhunt Shifter) - WotBS
Caelius furrows his brow, "I Don't F-O-L-L-O-W."
Tooltips | Snippet Code | How to Homebrew on D&D Beyond | Subclass Guide | Feature Roadmap
Astromancer's Homebrew Assembly
"The relevant equation is: Knowledge = power = energy = matter = mass; a good bookshop is just a genteel Black Hole that knows how to read." - Terry Pratchett
"Also a c-u-r-s-e. One I don't know all about. I am w-e-a-k but this t-h-i-n-g is not. It will help me keep up."
Dungeon Master - LSoL
Kaori - Battlemaster Fighter 5 / Paladin 2 (Kenku) - TSR
Cherna Godhari - Grave Cleric 4 (Human) - TW
Breena Mahi'ai - Divination Wizard 8 (Halfling) - WoE
Sharyn Savonath - Open Sea Paladin 4 (Triton) - PoPI
Zephyr - Four Elements (Revised) Monk 4 (Air Genasi) - IO
Takeshi - Mercy Monk 6 (Protector Aasimar) - TBW
Avrui Sirsash - Genie Warlock 2 (Wildhunt Shifter) - WotBS
Caelius nods, at a loss for words he does his best. "I Under-S-T-And."
Tooltips | Snippet Code | How to Homebrew on D&D Beyond | Subclass Guide | Feature Roadmap
Astromancer's Homebrew Assembly
"The relevant equation is: Knowledge = power = energy = matter = mass; a good bookshop is just a genteel Black Hole that knows how to read." - Terry Pratchett
River puts her sword up and lies down on her back, her mouth opening as she begins to sing a melancholy tune.
Dungeon Master - LSoL
Kaori - Battlemaster Fighter 5 / Paladin 2 (Kenku) - TSR
Cherna Godhari - Grave Cleric 4 (Human) - TW
Breena Mahi'ai - Divination Wizard 8 (Halfling) - WoE
Sharyn Savonath - Open Sea Paladin 4 (Triton) - PoPI
Zephyr - Four Elements (Revised) Monk 4 (Air Genasi) - IO
Takeshi - Mercy Monk 6 (Protector Aasimar) - TBW
Avrui Sirsash - Genie Warlock 2 (Wildhunt Shifter) - WotBS
Caelius looks out at the campsite. He gestures and cracks his knuckles on his right hand. A few feet away, a skeletal hand appears, floats over to his bag, pulls out a second book and brings it over to him. The hand points in the wordbook.
"I Don't Know If Be-ing M-U-T-E Is The C-O-S-T For My M-A-G-I-C Or The Other W-A-Y A-R-O-U-N-D. But I Know That The L-I-G-H-T Has Give-N Me A S-E-C-O-N-D C-H-A-N-C-E."
Caelius smiles and shrugs, the hand still pointing, "It Might Not Be Your S-I-T-U-A-T-I-O-N But That-'-s Help-ed Me On D-A-R-K D-A-Y-S. I am Here If You Want To T-A-L-K."
Tooltips | Snippet Code | How to Homebrew on D&D Beyond | Subclass Guide | Feature Roadmap
Astromancer's Homebrew Assembly
"The relevant equation is: Knowledge = power = energy = matter = mass; a good bookshop is just a genteel Black Hole that knows how to read." - Terry Pratchett
During training:
As Taran leads the way to the tree, Lanan is quiet. Once you get to the tree, he nods and draws his sword, slinging his shield into an active position. "You want to spar with one another, or just practice separately?"
"Um..." Taran hesitates as he draws his shortsword and checks the edge, "Either w-way is good with me... I, um, I'm not sure if it would be beneficial to spar together or not... Like I said, I'm not very good yet. Barely passable really. You saw how poorly I did against Mister Jharee after all"
"You did perfectly fine against the spy," Lanan says shortly. "And making yourself out as worse than you are isn't helping anyone." He slips into a fighting stance. "Ready?"
"I'm not trying to make myself out as worse than I am," Taran says with a shake of his head, "Father was very clear that I was a poor student as he trained me. Even after six years of training I never struck him more than once." Taran enters his own stance, keeping lose, watching the center of his opponent for the slightest movement, "And I never could take more than six or seven serious blows before my body completely gave out. I'm definitely far too weak to be his son."
A blink after entering his stance he darts forward, his small blade driving upwards towards the taller man's face. His shield will rise to block it, and then in the moment he can't see him he will slip behind the soldier and press the attack where he is less defended.
Lanan gives a grunt of pain, but reacts promptly, lines of pain suddenly smoothing from his face as he swings his sword into a neat circle. And promptly crashes through Taran's guard, his sword stopping an inch from Taran's throat. "End of round," he says, clearly and carefully as he lowers his sword.
Taran's arm trembles with the aftershocks of the soldier's blow, and he feels the bruises spreading across his palm. He bows his head, disgusted with the loss, and Taran looks at the slice his blade left on Mr. Lanan during their exchange.
"Um.. Would you... do you want me to bandage that... before we go again? I'll try to do better next time, so you actually get some benefit from the sparring."
He switches his shortsword to his other hand and kneads the flesh of his palm to make sure the feeling is back in it. "I know I should have been able to dodge that, instead of standing there and trying to block it. That was foolish of me. I'll try not to make the same mistake twice."
Lanan shakes his head. "I'll be fine. And you hit pretty hard yourself. Most people underestimate the amount of power I put behind my blows. Like you said, the trick isn't to totally block it. It's to either deflect or dodge it, rather than going all-out in a contest of strength. That's exactly what we're trained for, after all."
"Ok," Taran says transferring his sword back to his dominant hand, "Um, do you want to start this one or should I start us off again?"
He settles in his stance again, keeping light on his feet so he can dodge to either side the moment his opponent moved.
"You start again," Lanan suggests.
"O-Okay, umm, are you sure y-you don't want a bandage for the bleeding. I-I don't want it interfering with your grip." Taran resheathes his dagger and runs a finger over the light cut on his leather armor from Mr. Lanan's sword, "Um, and with us starting further apart... do you want me to use my c-crossbow? Or do you w-want to charge m-my position instead of me charging yours?"
Taran turned to move as well, but flinches at Lanan's last words.
"It-it helps," he'll say after moment, "S-since... since you aren't actually landing the final blow. Father... Father didn't hold back like that. It's confusing me a little, and... and I don't want to strike you outside of sparring, when you think we're done..." Unseen by Lanan pure terror races across Taran's face for an instant, "Th-th-that w-w-would b-b-be... unacceptable... he taught me that too."
He turns, leveling his crossbow at the armored figure. "R-r-ready, Mr. Lanan?"
On the exhale he fires, the snap of the lathe only warning for the soldier. He reloads on the move, darting another 30 ft away by the time he's finished and spinning around to aim once more at his opponent.
Once more, Taran can get one more shot off before the soldier will close. He's just too slow, too weak. He snaps off another shot, cold eyes aiming for the soldier's hip. Even if it doesn't pierce the armor, it might slow him down. As his shot leaps between them he's moving again, keeping him at least 60 ft away. As he reloads though, he slips one of his daggers out of its sheath and hold it under the crossbow, ideally, the soldier won't notice and he'll get an extra layer of surprise on the attack.
Lanan bats the bolt out of the air with his sword and crosses the remaining distance, getting adjacent to Taran.
He drops the crossbow, flashing out the dagger towards the soldier's face. Then he'll dart past, drawing the shortsword and swinging it hard against the backs of his knees while he's recovering. He can't let him swing that sword, a single blow, every time. He can't let it happen again.
The dagger swings up, catching Lanan under the chin and drawing a small amount of blood as he pulls back quickly, saying sharply. "Dead. Round over." He gives you a nod. "See the difference?"
Taran stumbles to a stop, shock breaking his concentration.
"W-wait, seriously? But-but you dodged." Taran stammers. He points at Mr. Lanan's heavy sword with his shortsword, forgetting for a moment that he is armed, "You could have easily finished me again... I-I can't have w-w-w-won...Th-that's... that not possible..." He stares at the older man in confusion.
Lanan snorts. "I barely got my neck out of the way. In a real battle, that knee shot would have finished me. So yeah, you won. Why is that so hard to believe?"
"I-I've never won... not once. I always fail and am a dis-disappointment..." Taran feels the prick of tears sting at his eyes again and roughly wipes them away, even as his knees shake, "You-you had to be going easy on me th-that time, b-because... I..." he looks up at the older man, lost and confused, "I... I couldn't really be getting better... not without Father training me... could I?"
Lanan snorts again. "I wasn't going easy on you, that doesn't help anyone. Just because your previous trainer isn't teaching you anymore doesn't mean you've suddenly lost the ability to improve. You can always get better, no matter what, and you do a disservice to yourself, your team, and your country if you assume you've reached the height of your ability."
"But... it wasn't just any teacher... it was Father, he was - is, a legend. And he trained me for years and years, and I never... I never got close to closing that gap, even after everything he sacrificed in training me... And, no one else would have bothered with a worthless student like me, so when he disappeared I... I never thought I would actually get better... I was just... keeping sharp... until he came back. And then maybe... maybe he would be able to teach me how to be better... how to stop hesitating..." Taran slumps the fire dying inside of him.
"How could a worthless student like me... improve myself... when he... it's only been three years. I- I don't understand...You, and Esteemed Vishal... I don't understand."
He sees the drip of blood off of Mister Lanan, and pulls out his healer's kit. "Let me... let me bandage that... before we go back."
"It doesn't matter who your teacher was. Getting better is something anyone can do, the skill of a teacher can just help that along a bit." Lanan studies you with a frown. "What makes you so sure you're worthless? You seemed pretty good to me."
"Father spent years training me," Taran would quietly respond as he was bandaging Lanan's wounds,"and he... I was never able to keep up. I'm slow. I'm weak. I'm clumsy. Every time Father came back home, I'd disappoint him. At-at first, it was because I wasted time... I didn't take my training seriously enough. But even after hours and hours practicing every day..." Taran shrugs, his steady hands expertly tying off the bandages, "I never closed the gap, I never got good enough... It was like I was running in place. If we weren't blood... well, maybe it would have been easier. I would have had an excuse, a reason to be such a disappointing student every time he came back. But what excuse does the son of Halrac the Grim have?"
Taran walks over and picks up his crossbow, checking the wooden structure for damage after he had dropped it on the rocks. Then he began tightening the wooden screws and oiling the line, moving with practiced ease as he continues talking.
"Everyone has been very kind about it though, they encouraged me and tried to make me feel b-better about everything. But... if Father couldn't raise me to even the barest acceptable level... if I never once was able to pass a t-test or l-land a blow... it just means I'm worthless as a student."
Lanan rolls his eyes. "How long did your father train before he started training you?"
"Umm... I think... I think he'd been a member of the Road for three years. He was a hunter before we fled, back in Dor Maleer. He didn't... he didn't like to talk about his time in Riedra."
"So...he'd been training for years and was a fully grown adult, and yet you, a kid still in training, couldn't defeat him?" Lanan raises an eyebrow, heavy sarcasm entering his voice. "You're right, you were definitely a worthless failure. You totally should have been able to get just as good as him in half the time at half his age."
"Well... no, but... that... " Taran keeps his gaze down, hiding his face, "But then... why... why did... why would he s-s-say... why would he say I was worthless... if I wasn't? That-that doesn't make sense...Father... Father was never wrong..." Taran clutched at his sides, shaking like a leaf in thunderstorm.
Lanan sighs. "Look, I don't know your life or your father. But maybe give your self-worth another thought." He sheathes his sword and slings his shield back around to his back.
Taran won't say anything as he begins heading back to camp.
A short time later, Lanan and Taran return to camp.
Taran is shaking a little, looking unsettled.
Lanan has a light bandage on his throat and side, a few specks of blood visible through the white cloth.
Stella Diamant, Human Rogue 17 (Swashbuckler), The Exploits of Misfit Company
Kat, Medtech, Cyberpunk: Red
Shi, Changeling Bard 4 (College of Spirits), Tyrant's Grasp
Dani, Human Artificer 9 (Armorer), Skulls and Starships
DM, Project Point (Teams Scimitar and Longsword)
Everything Else!
Taran will quietly walk over to the soup pot and pour himself a bowl. The, he'll head off to the outskirts of camp to sit and eat.
Taran Cragshollow (Summit Road)
Juhaan
Taking a bowl of soup he comments "This is very good" eating the whole thing
"Tomorrow we should move as soon as possible and make the most of the day. I would avoid lingering here as much has possible. Just in case."
Vishal nods at Juhaan's words saying, "Thank you. And that sounds like a good idea." Not really paying super close attention to him before he moves over towards Taran. Making sure he makes enough noise that he can be heard he quietly asks aloud, "Do you mind if I sit here?"
Taran would shake his head, and adjust slightly to give Esteemed Vishal more room.
Taran Cragshollow (Summit Road)
Vishal sits down and let’s few moments of silence pass before he asks, “How’s the soup? I hope it’s alright I kind of just threw stuff stuff together and hopes it works.”
"It-it's good, Sir." Taran will murmur, keeping his eyes on his bowl.
Taran Cragshollow (Summit Road)
“That’s good. I hope everyone likes it. I just threw some stuff together and then used my magic to balance out the flavors.” Vishal replies giving Taran a soft smile. He then let’s a few minutes of silence pass before he quietly says, “I take it that training didn’t go that well.”