Heroes in Training

[Phreniphorm]

Feeling that he was probably being intrusive, and simply because he wanted to be alone, Sören took the first chance he got to sneak away, back into his room to get his bow and some arrows he had brought with him. He offered himself a small smile. Chances were that the others didn't even know that he was gone. His experience in stalking animals apparently translated quite well into stealth. Slinging the bow on his back and strapping the quiver to his hip, he felt slightly more relaxed. At the very least, even if things went extremely wrong, he knew that he would have his trusty bow by his side, always. He quickly sneaked back into the dining area and sat down in another corner by himself, staring out the window and wondering just what kind of training Roland was about to put them through.

[Gisk]

Marcus listened to the conversations, well versed in the art of eavesdropping, but focused on his plate. The food was surprisingly good, considering the part of the country he was in.
One of his fellow students was from the forest... the rest were largely quiet, with the exception of that Leopold character.
"Where are you from, Leopold?" Marcus asked suddenly. "Your accent is difficult to place."


As the trainees chatted away inanely, Roland watched over them obviously from his spot at the head of the table. He ate quietly and said little.

Much less obvious was Jayce, who sat at the top of the stairs, out of sight, and listened to the goings on downstairs.

[Munk]

Oblivious to most of what was going on around him, Alain ate happily. He took note of how none of the others seemed to enjoy the food as much as him, but thought nothing of it—they were probably used to finer meals than him. At least the dark-haired boy a few seats from him was. Alain wasn't usually very observant, but it was easy to tell that this was a boy who didn't spend most of his time working. His hands weren't nearly calloused enough for that, and the way he ate, both now and at dinner last night, didn't seem like the people Alain knew from his home. Rather like a nobleman, perhaps?

The boy asked Leopold about his accent, something Alain had wondered about himself. While chewing thoroughly, Alain decided to listen in and join the conversation when he got the chance.

[Jakal]

Ryth's observations led him to one conclusion, that he already fit in perfectly. Through observing the others he had hoped to learn their accents, mannerisms, and behaviors so he could adapt his to fit the rest. But the more he watched, the more he noticed that none of the other children were really the same. Some seemed uncomfortable, or at least suspicious as he had been. While others seemed oblivious, or rather just didn't care. They were all strangers to each other. All of them had come from different places. With this thought, Ryth relaxed immensely and started digging in.
"Where did the other Forrest-born go?" He asked looking around. "Oh well, I suppose we'll see him at training."

[Putrefaction]

The gypsy boy chuckled at Marcus’ question, and took some time chewing a cut of sausage before responding. “I was born and raised in my father’s caravan; we were merchants and travelled from one end of Solaterra to the other. My homeland is nowhere, but my people are everywhere.” He raised his glass as if in salute to the other boys.

“And you, my fellow darkhair? Where are you from?” As he spoke to Marcus, Leopold came to realize that the tall boy had disappeared. Curious. He didn’t care much for sneaky types – real heroes didn’t skulk around in the shadows, after all – but perhaps the forest-born had just made a run to the privy. Even so, the gypsy boy chanced a glance over his shoulder. His disdain for sneaky types didn’t come close to matching his disdain for being snuck up on.

[Phreniphorm]

Sören stuck to his corner and observed the other trainees as they ate, taking note of their mannerisms, ways of speech and anything else that might give him and edge. Just like hunting. Know your prey's strengths and weaknesses and act accordingly. He said to himself with a slight grin. He found it easier to cope when he thought of his other trainees as prey to be hunted. It probably wasn't healthy, but for now, it would have to do. He noticed one of the boys glance back quickly, as if he was expecting someone to be sneaking up behind him. He didn't seem to notice Sören, who looked on with plenty of interest. So he doesn't take kindly to surprises from behind....Will have to keep that in mind. Sören didn't know if there was going to be any sparring for the day's training, but if there was, he was going to be sure that he was prepared and ready to give the other trainees a nasty surprise.

He absentmindedly plucked on the string of his bow. He father often told him not to do that, but it was a habit Sören found hard to kick. His mind wandered to thoughts of his family, wondering how his sister was doing. They often bickered over trivial matters, but Sören still loved her dearly. I wonder if father is going to try to teach her the ways of the hunter. He said to himself, amused by the thought. He quickly snapped himself out of his thoughts and looked around him, panicking for a moment when he thought that he had missed Roland coming down to bring them out for training. He relaxed when he saw that the other trainees were still at the table. Well, more chance for me to study them, I suppose.

[Munk]

Alain stopped chewing and quickly swallowed, nearly choking on a piece of sausage. Leopold was a gypsy! Alain had often dreamt of travelling around Solaterra, although his dreams had more often involved heroic deeds than trading. The travelling merchants had often passed by his family's farm, trading their cloth and other supplies for grain, and sometimes whole animals. It wasn't impossible that Leopold's caravan might once have been there as well, although Alain didn't remember seeing him.

Excited, Alain leaned forward to speak to Leopold: "So, have you seen anything exciting? What's the most interesting place you've traveled to? Have you been to—" he lowered his voice, even though there was no point. It just seemed appropriate, "have you been to the goblin lands?"

[Jakal]

Ryth was enthralled by the things the other boys were saying. His people were not stupid, but most of them had lived their lives isolated deep within the forest. Ryth knew little of geography, and he knew even less of gypsies. "How could a man live without a home?" He thought to himself. It simply did not make sense to him. In his mind life on the move was no life at all. But before he could ask the gypsy about life on the move a more foreign idea was brought up.

"...the goblin lands?" he heard another boy ask in a hushed tone. Ryth had no idea what a goblin was or why it should be such a respected land mass, but he knew he just had to find out.

"Forgive my intrusion, if you please, but what is 'goblin lands'?" Ryth asked as respectfully as he could. He did his best to mimic the other boys' way of speech to avoid sounding even more foreign. He even added a friendly smile for good measure.

Once again, however, something else came up before Ryth was able to get an answer. He recognized the distinct low hum of a bow being plucked. Hiding away from the table conversation was one thing Ryth could forgive the other forest-born for, but plucking a bow was not. Ryth rounded on the boy and gave him a sad stare.

"In my village, a boy is taught at a young age that it is the hunter who plucks his bow that finds it broken when he needs it most. Do they not teach this in your village? Or perhaps you have been lucky enough to acquire the only unbreakable bow ever made." He stared just a little longer for effect, then he turned back to the gypsy. "Please, continue."

[Gisk]

The boy was well spoken, for a gypsy. "North," Marcus answered shortly, "My father is Victor Crepley, the Black Duke." He spoke with a touch of pride, but the others seemed much more interested in the traveling caravans.

"So, have you seen anything exciting? What's the most interesting place you've traveled to? Have you been to—" he spoke the last part in an almost supersticious whisper, "have you been to the goblin lands?"

Marcus let out a short "Ha!" as another boy asked about it. "Forgive my intrusion, if you please, but what is 'goblin lands'?"

"North of our country," Marcus answered, "Beyond the walls my ancestors built. Surely you've at least heard stories of goblins?" He turned to the other boy, "I do hope Leopold has never been there. Travelers generally aren't allowed past the walls. Nobody goes there."

[Putrefaction]

Leopold smirked at the blond-haired boy who’d suddenly piped up so exuberantly, “Let’s see, my answers in order would be yes, the ruins of Ishhae, and no.” He glanced at the boy Marcus. “As I’m sure our lordling here can tell you, entrance to the far north is forbidden, and I don’t think that the goblins there have any interest in trading for livestock or trinkets.”

Taking another sip of juice, the gypsy craned his neck to see whom the small boy with the big eyes was talking to. It was the boy from the forest, though now he held a bow in one hand and was wearing his arrows. “Either you’re anxious to get training or you’re a very poor assassin, friend; keep those arrows in your quiver. This is a dinner table, not a hunting ground.” Turning to the small boy, he offered a small smile. “Good ears. Goblins are conniving little creatures that live beyond the Black Duke's wall. Don't worry about them, there hasn't been one in the south since before we were born.” He spoke confidently, but still chanced a glance at Roland, as if for verification.

Looking around, Leopold came to realize that he didn’t know anyone but Roland at the table, and the old hero didn’t seem interested in making any introductions. “Come now, must I do all the talking? My name is Leopold, and you all know my story, now.” He indicated Alain with an inclination of his head. “Come now, yellowhair, tell us who you are. You’re next, little one.” He added the last with a look toward the boy with the green-spotted eyes.