Continuing education of a God of War

[Skallagrim]

Quinn had been riding hard. His mind still reeling from the last fight with those bandits in the wode a ways back. He had managed to kill most of them, allowing the youngest of the bandits to flee back into the black forest. It had been tough, the choice to kill the young boys, although they had clubs and dirks, they were no more fighters than their fathers had been.

Just hard men trying to provide for their families. They had been given a chance to surrender and submit to Quinn's largesse, but they refused. Perhaps it had been fear, perhaps they wanted to slay a knight, no matter, they now would stand before God and be judged for their actions on earth. After making sure they were dead, administering the killing blow so that those who lay wounded didn't suffer he took what he could and rode away.

Stripping his horse of its armor and blankets he rubbed it down and fed it. Laying his sword and shield against some stones, he built a fire and prepared a simple meal. His chain mail clinking softly as he went over the items he retrieved off the bodies. Mostly they were small baubles, items that held worth to the dead men, but nothing of real value. Then he looked at the worn leather pouch that the leader had on his belt. It felt heavier than the others and the feel of it told him that something solid lay within.

Upon opening the bag Quinn was shocked and pleasantly surprised at the bounty. An egg sized scintillating blue gem. Laying the gem on the bag, he began praying to the lord for the prize. It would allow him to buy lands, thus allowing him to pass on to his children a title and worth beyond just what a landless knight had. His baritone voice carried as he began praying. Surly the Lord had blessed him with such a gift.

[Blaze Gamma]

As the man lay his prayers, the stone began to shine with an odd energy. It was unearthly, possessing what seemed to be the energy of one person, yet glowing with small energies of another. As the prayers continued, the light shone even brighter, eventually revealing a young boy, no older than ten, wearing odd garments. On his right side was a small sword, and his back a shield. Standing there, he opened his deep blue eyes, and for several moments, his soul seemed to commune with that of the man, even if forcibly.

It was the youth's first encounter with a human, and he seemed surprised, almost disappointed at how 'small' the man before him was, even if he could miss the irony in the fact that he himself was smaller. He growled slightly, making an animalistic warning. He lowered his stance and gripped the sword awkwardly in his left hand and pointed it at the man, as if warning him.

The youth's eyes were firm, like those of a hardened warrior, although from the way he held his weapon and armor, he was not, or at the very least, he did not bear the skills to back up such a demeanor.

((Going to be gone for a bit, probably several hours.))

[Skallagrim]

At first he failed to notice the minute displays of energy that the stone emitted. However as the light grew in intensity and blue glow bathed Quinn, he paused then stopped his prayers and stared at the stone. He had heard of such wonders from his fellow Templar in their journeys in the Holy Lands. However the sudden and unexpected appearance of the boy forced him into action. Scrambling to his feet, his eyes narrowed as he took in the whole image.

A boy, perhaps no more than eight or ten years of age. His clothes seemed misplaced on the slight frame. However it was the sword held awkwardly in the left hand of the boy which gave him pause. What manner of witchery was this? Perhaps an imp summoned by some pagan ritual to exact vengeance for the deaths of the bandits?

Since the war sword and heater lay close by, and unsure of the exact nature of the boy, Quinn retrieved them. His eyes scanned the area as he armed himself, but his attention always returned to the boy.
“Well lad, what manner of beastie be ye? Daemon? Faerie? Perhaps some witchery?” he asked as he stepped to his right, away from the fire and into a more open area where he could defend himself against the boy and whomever summoned him.

Seeing the stance the boy took, Quinn frowned. Did the boy intend to fight him? Clearly there was heart and desire but appeared to be no training behind it. Had the boy been the son of one of those he had killed? If so how did he manage to keep up with him, more importantly had he come alone?

Easing his right foot back and his left forward, knees bent slightly as he eyed the boy. The heater shifted on the left arm and as he hunched slightly it covered his body and upper thigh. The war sword rattled as the sheath slipped from it and the he dropped it back into a rear guard. The tip hovering a few inches above the ground as he inhaled slightly.

While not fond of killing children, should the boy want to fight, revenge or not he would defend himself and if largess was not asked it would not be given.

“Well boy. What have ye come for?” His growled, all the while silently praying that the boy would realize the foolishness of facing a trained and battle-hardened knight. There would be no mercy once the boy actually attacked, he would be treated as an enemy most foul.

[Blaze Gamma]

The boy did not say a word in response, though his eyes seemed to shimmer, being the exact color of the stone. He lifted the short sword, though with his own stature, it was grossly imbalanced to his own weight. He gripped it tightly, growling once more as if showing his own determination. There was a clarity in his purpose. There was no revenge or malice, just a steadfast determination. He wanted to show he wasn't weak.

Gripping the sword tightly, he dashed forward, making a wild swing, though this time he was able to keep his grip on the sword, unlike the last time where it had came loose from his palm. His body followed the rotation, and as his right arm reached a facing with the man before him, the boy put his weight into the shield, in an attempt to topple over the large man.

[Skallagrim]

There it was. The moment of truth, the boy wanted to fight. Exhaling through his teeth, his breathing calm, each moment a brief flash as if time had slowed down. The boy re-gripped his short sword, securing a hold on the blade, which seemed a bit unwieldy in his small hands. The boy made the first mistake in a fight, he rushed forward, in some vain attempt to vouchsafe a blow.

As he moved forward, Quinn was also moving, his left foot sliding backward, allowing his right foot to be the lead foot. The heater pulling in tight against his torso while he straightened. The right arm torquing forward, the war sword swinging up and into a tight closely twisting thrust with the approaching boy. The boy carrying the sword in his sinister hand had left himself open to a deadly counter.

The boy lay exposed in that wild swing, and as the war sword came up and in, it would strike the boy as he completed his rotation, most probably catching him in the soft tissue of the stomach, just under the sternum as he turned in his pirouette. The momentum of both would be tremendous, the weight of the boy as he turned, met by the deadly thrusting blade of the knight. Since the boy had little defenses and the move he enacted would give him scant time to avoid the blow much less see it as it struck his body, the end seemed obvious.

Yet it pained Quinn to do this. While he knew the boy meant to do him harm, he wished he had made another choice. It pained him to kill this boy.

[Blaze Gamma]

The boy fell to a crumpled heap on the ground, all but defeated. He coughed, the injury being all to familiar to him. It had happened before, the same spot on his torso. He remembered hanging upside-down by his ankle, unable to fight as the blood washed over his eyes.

He wouldn't stand by. He wasn't that weak. He kept telling himself that as he stood again, too weak to even lift the sword once more, it and the shield instead lying on the ground. He hobbled forward and threw a single punch into the man's chest, though there was no force behind it.

Pat. The fist smacked pointlessly as the boy collapsed again, his injury too great.

((Sorry for auto connecting. I'll edit it out if needed. Not quite dead yet.))

[Skallagrim]

The boy fell. The blow was fatal, Quinn had seen enough death that he knew it when he saw it. However the boy was brave. He struggled to rise, then managed to do so. His eyes difiant, his countance grim and he hobbled towards Quinn.

How many times had he seen this. In the Holy Lands, lads such as this on both sides of the war. Refusing to submit, fighting to the end. Yet this boy touched him deeply. More so because there were no malice, no hatred betwixt them.

A small fist struck his armour. The splatter of blood across the tunic, staining it forever a dull red-brown. A badge he would carry with him until the Lord called him forth. As the boy fell to the earth, Quinn was already in motion. His warsword, the weapon that reaped the boys soul slammed into the earth. His sheild tumbled to the hard loam.

Tears running down his cheeks, Quinn lifted the boy in his arms, his voice hoarse as he spoke, “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen...Lord save this boy, this child deserves more than to die on this lonely field. Carry his soul to your bosom, to your glory that he may know a greater life than the short one he lived here.”

Quinn lifted the boy and whispered in his ear the Lord's prayer, and when he finished he kissed the boy's forehead. With dignity and honor he lowered the boy down and gathered his small sheild and short sword. Laying them on the boy's chest he grabbed his own weapons and held them in hornor of the boy a moment. Then he dressed his horse and his things, one last glance and he mounted the great war horse and rode off into the night.

[Blaze Gamma]

Though the knight could not have seen it, there was a bright flash as the boy returned to the form of the egg shaped stone. It seemed to shimmer under the moon, all the wounds and blood wiped clean from the earth. There was another shine, and even if unseen, it would reach its mark.

It was a message. As the knight continued his ride, he would be given images, the first one of a younger boy, though one with the same colored eyes, facing a beast of impossible size, fighting without meaning until he was crushed and then swallowed.

After a few moments, there was another image.

A youth in his early teens. He stood holding his blade and shield, by no means expertly, but with much more skill than the lad who had been felled. For a moment, he held the sword to himself in a prayer, then moved forward.

((So, personality etc. changes: Better swordsmanship, is willing to let weaker foes (If there is such a thing) have a chance to withdraw, still willing to kill, though will now at least feel remorse for the fallen. He can talk! He's somewhat pious!))