WhiteRose

Banditry! [WhiteRose and FernStone]

Beckham stood and watched Alianor jab at the dummy for a while, before eventually getting tired. She had seemed, at first glance, to be fairly fit and healthy, but her lack of stamina was disturbing to say the least. He motioned for her to move out of the way so that he could get a clear ring with the dummy, the nervous disposition fading slightly as he became more focused. Beckham was comfortable, fighting - this was what he excelled at. He demonstrated, first of all, how to stand - similar enough to Alianor's own stance, his feet were shoulder-width apart and he stood fairly straight, so that he would be balanced.

"If you want to do more damage with less raw power, you have to understand momentum. Two forces travelling in opposite directions do not cancel out at the point of impact, the impact point has the combined force of both. You might not be able to throw a man far, or kick him hard, but if you put the two together..." Beckham demonstrated his point on the dummy - clasping his hands around the back of the dummy's head and thrusting it downwards, bringing his knee up at the same time to hit the thing with a loud 'thwack'. It fell backwards to the floor. "...then the strike is stronger, without much more effort put in by you."

He stood back for a moment, and offered Alianor the chance to attempt this grab-and-strike technique. After watching, he nodded slightly and began to speak again. "It's also worth bearing in mind the body's natural points of balance and movement. I don't recommend you try this sort of thing in the initiation... we'd rather avoid breakages... but it's important to understand the theory. Human joints are only supposed to move in certain directions, but they're not particularly strong when pushed. So, for instance, if you strike firmly at the side of the knee it's very possible to break the joint, and cripple your opponent." He demonstrated on the dummy, kicking it at the leg and watching it topple to the ground. "See? Easy."

"The Vigil, however, seeks to combine the two for the sake of combat. We call it 'redirection' - taking momentum and routing it to a particular place on the body. For instance, say this dummy tried grabbing me..." Beckham made the dummy lunge at him. He grabbed it by the arm, allowed it to continue the lunge for a while, then hooked his foot behind the dummy's leg and pulled its balance out from underneath it. The thing was turned over, but Beckham kept hold of its arm. As it faced the ground once more, he kicked hard with his other foot and drove its torso into the ground. The connections around the dummy's shoulder snapped, and the arm dislocated in a painful-looking position. Beckham looked very pleased with himself for a moment, before he dropped the thing and stood to one side again, feeling a little sheepish. He hoped that Alianor didn't catch his attempt to show off.

"Show me what you can do, with that in mind. These are the basic principles behind it - the actual movements will vary a lot depending on the size of your opponent and the way of moving which is most comfortable to you." he said, mumbling slightly near the end of the sentence. He stood with his arms about him, a slight blush in his cheeks. "I'm sure you'll get it quickly."

Banditry! [WhiteRose and FernStone]

Beckham flinched as he heard Alianor say his name. Immediately his body language changed - his muscles went from controlled to contracted, his back straightening sharply and his eyes widened. He glanced to Alianor, then back to the spot he had previously been watching over. He waited a few seconds before he figured that Alianor probably wouldn't go away if he simply ignored her, and so he forced himself to relax a little and turn to face her. "Dick." he said, frowning. His eyes then widened again, and he looked at Alianor. His voice was bright, but clearly interlaced with a nervous quiver. "N-not you, I mean. Ronan. He's a dick. But... I already said that. I... yes, I can teach you to fight if you'd like me to. Did Ronan tell you I was a Vigilant? He probably did. He likes telling people things about me without my permission. I can... ah..."

Beckham turned on his heel swiftly, taking a moment to breathe. He closed his eyes. Then he spun around once more. "I would have thought you'd ask Kessah, since she's also... a lady. And terrifying. But I can teach you. When I was a Vigilant, we were taught how to control our bodies, see - it's a sort of... mind over matter... thing. Your body can move a lot faster, be a lot stronger, feel no pain... if you can control the subconscious part of your mind which tells you otherwise. For instance." Beckham held up his middle finger to Alianor's eyes. He kept it there for a moment, then hastily put it down and put up his forefinger instead, worried that the gesture may have been misconstrued as obscene. "Your jaw is strong enough to bite through your finger about as easily as biting a carrot. But..." he put the finger in his mouth and chewed for a moment. "You know instinctively not to do so. There's a survival instinct you can't just 'turn off' when convenient... unless you have training. The Vigil is the way of control - you master your body, and use it to defeat an opponent. Even someone twice your size, you can put down if you know how to move right."

Beckham looked at Alianor curiously for a moment. His eyes flicked towards her chest, for a split-second, then he began to stare back towards the camp. "If you pick out the person you want to fight... if you've chosen anyone yet... I can tell you exactly how their muscles work and how to win. Except Gort, or Ronan... or Kessah. I swore an oath to Ronan. Gort... I haven't figured out yet... and Kessah scares the shit out of me."

He paused for a moment.

"I think if you really want my help, you should show me how you would want to fight. There are some old mannequins which Kessah weighted to be like a real person, if you can see them over there." He pointed towards the training ground - there were indeed a few man-sized dummies there. "If you would, just take one and show me how you'd want to fight someone. I can help if I know where you're starting from."

Banditry! [WhiteRose and FernStone]

Ronan frowned at Alianor. "I... ah... didn't expect you to have someone already in mind. You know, if someone ever acts towards you in a way your not comfortable with, you should let one of my lieutenants know. Huxley, Gort, Kessah or Beckham - they'll keep the lads in line, and I trust them all to treat you right. I suppose you don't know who Beckham is, do you? He's the one... over there."

Ronan pointed across the camp to a man. He was tall, well-built, and exceptionally handsome - his features were sharp, his eyes a deep brown and his hair black, cut short and slicked away from his face. He was standing perfectly still, watching over the camp from the walkway at the top of the wall with a silent, unbroken dedication. Even from this distance it was very easy to tell that the man was not even quivering in the wind. His muscles were tensed, statuesque, ready. Ronan looked at him for a moment, then sighed slightly. "Don't surprise him though. He used to be one of those monks... what are they called... Vigilants, I think. He can be a little jumpy. He's a nice lad though, funnier than he thinks he is and smarter than maybe everyone apart from Gort."

"And don't worry about not passing the test. If your opponent wins, Gort will patch up any bruises on you and you can try again whenever you care to. The initiation isn't a life-or-death matter... but it helps get rivalries out of the mind early, and means that if you're new and you have a problem with someone you can deal with it." Ronan smiled at her. He wondered who would suit her best... the girl would need drastic training, or some dirty techniques, to be able to put down one of his men. Gort would be able to snap his fingers and have it done, but the experience would likely leave her perceptions of reality just a little too shattered for her to be useful. Kessah might take the training a little too seriously... "If you want my advice... I say go talk to the statue over there. He'll treat you right. He's also trained a fair few of the lads... and... well, he needs some more experience talking to women."

Ronan chuckled slightly, patting Alianor on the shoulder roughly again and striding off, deliberately leaving her to be confused.

Banditry! [WhiteRose and FernStone]

Heya! Sorry I haven't replied, it's been a hectic couple days. Will post something later.

Banditry! [WhiteRose and FernStone]

Ronan stood idly, flicking through an old book of combat stances he kept near the sparring area. His leg was still sore, but he was glad enough to be walking again - Gort was a skilled healer, but even his magic had limits. Had Alianor decided to cut something off him, or severed an artery, he may not have made it home at all. He thought about this for a moment. He had made arrangements in case of his death, of course, but the deals were old and likely needed to be renewed. Not all the partners would be so willing as they once were. Until then, he should probably avoid making Alianor too upset with him... but then, more importantly, Ronan thought she needed to reassess herself. And, he thought, he had the perfect way to give her some perspective.

His musings were interrupted by the sound of running, and cheering. He looked up, seeing a large crowd of people beginning to gather around something. He quickly jogged over, only to find two figures locked together. The man on the bottom was a dull-witted soul named Eberon. Kessah was straddling him, as the man desperately tried to get away and shield his face as Kessah beat him. Ronan watched for a short while as the man successfully blocked a few nasty-looking strikes with his forearms. He turned casually to the person beside him, asking "What did he do?". "Nicked a leg of deer from the stores. Thought Kessah wouldn't notice when she took stock." came the reply. Ronan shook his head. He watched for a moment longer, seeing a bloody tooth fly off to one side, before he shouted for Kessah to release him. She hesistated for a moment, but did so - giving him a parting blow to the stomach as she got up. Ronan sighed slightly, bending over so that he could look the man in the eye.

"Gonna do that again?" he asked simply. The bloodied man shook his head. Ronan offered his hand and pulled the man to his feet. "Try to find your tooth. Might be able to have it put back in if you get it to Gort quickly."

The fun over, the crowd dispersed. Kessah did not bother waiting to explain herself to Ronan, and she needn't have bothered anyway - she took her role as Quartermaster seriously, and Ronan was more than willing to dispense harsh punishments when necessary. It would be a while before another of the group decided to sneak something away, and this suited him fine.

Eventually, he managed to catch sight of Alianor again. He walked over to her, patting her shoulder in an overly-familiar fashion as she approached.

"Just the noble lady I was looking for!" he exclaimed happily. "See, I've been having a talk with some of the lads, and we all agree that if you're staying here for more than a couple of days you should probably undergo our initiation- make you feel more at home, y'know? It's nothing too bad, don't worry... essentially, you need to pick two people out from the camp. One of them will give you a bit of training, make you more comfortable moving around. The second person, you'll spar against - first one to put the other to the ground and hold them for five seconds, wins. Pass the test, we'll let you call yourself a member. It'll make the lads a bit more at-ease around you, and it'll mean I don't have to keep such a close eye. We tend to... self-enforce our rules, rather than leaving it up to me. So you'll be safer, that way, too."

Banditry! [WhiteRose and FernStone]

"I'm sure you miss your family, and cannot feel anything but resentment towards my comrades. But you mustn't let Ronan get to you: do not lose control. I would tell you stories of things done on impulse which would no doubt chill your bones... worse than what you did to him today. It never goes well... and make no mistake, you are here in this camp because Ronan likes you." Gort began speaking in his characteristic, sagely mumble as he finished gutting and skinning the deer, throwing the hide on to a nearby pile of furs for cleaning and tanning, and the butchered meat onto another pile for preserving. He took a moment to wash the blood from his hands, then stood beside Alianor and stared at the same indistinct spot in the middle-distance she was seemingly contemplating. "Everyone in this camp is here because Ronan likes us, or sees us as useful. He is a dangerous man, and you would do well to remember that. He may seem jovial, childish even, but he has intelligence and anger to spare. He, and many of the founders of this group, were not always simple thugs - they were soldiers, and they knew their trade well. Even so, be thankful that you see the man he is and not the man he was... many of us hide darker things than we wish to speak of, in the wrinkles of our face."

Gort sniffed, putting a hand to his forehead and pressing for a moment, willing a sudden wave of pain that came over him to cease. After a few seconds it did, and he once more looked to the now leather-clad woman. Circumstance changes people, he thought- whether that be war or captivity. Alianor was already starting to bear the marks of this change, in the bold action she undertook earlier.

"You want to escape, go home, and I understand that. But in truth there will be no ransom settlement. Ronan has never kidnapped someone for ransom before... you pose a danger now that you've seen this place. Probably, you wouldn't be able to lead anyone back, but that is uncertain. What is certain, is that you will walk out out of those gates a friend, or you will never leave his sight again." Gort nodded, placing a hand on Alianor's shoulder comfortingly. "But Ronan is right- this is not something that should crush you. You have potential, though it is constrained by your upbringing. You have strength, more than you know, and a look at you confirms your intellect. Take this world, the forest cut off from all civilisation... take the lessons it gives you, and change the world you belong to for the better."

Gort waited a minute or so, then departed silently to attend to other matters. Ronan, at this time, could be seen on the other side of the camp - correcting the fighting posture of one of his bandits, who was training. A bandage around the man's bare torso implied he had a stomach injury of some kind, but Ronan didn't seem all too bothered by this. He pushed the man, forcing him to stand straight and firm, not permitting the pain of his injury to compromise the training. Ronan looked over in Alianor's direction, and gave her a warm smile. He wondered idly what she must be thinking. But there were other things he needed to do: Alianor's next test needed setting up.

Banditry! [WhiteRose and FernStone]

"Gaaahhh~! You little... ahhhhahahaha!" Ronan yelled out several stifled curses before breaking down into a fit of laughter. The bandit's leg was bloody, the knife having sunk deep into his thigh muscle. He soon lost balance, and one of his subordinates had to swiftly catch him and put his arm over their shoulder. One of the other bandits drew their own knife and advanced on Alianor, meaning to end her life, but Ronan shouted for him to stop. "Let her be Moore! This is the first bit of spirit I've seen out of her since we captured her- by the fires, you don't half have a mean streak do you princess? Make sure she doesn't try anything else before we get... ah damn that smarts... back to the camp."

Despite the large, painful wound Ronan could not stop grinning. This was exactly what he wanted - to give Alianor a taste of what it meant to live life like one was meant to, feeling emotion rather than constraining it, and being part of the natural cycle of bloodshed and consumption that made the world go round. He did not remove the large knife from his thigh, knowing that to do so would only make the problem worse. Rather, he spent the rest of the hunting trip hopping alongside the bandit who was supporting him. They soon decided to turn back, Ronan finding it too difficult to continue. Alianor was watched carefully by the other bandits, who kept their weapons ready in case she attempted something else.

Soon Ronan was at the gates of his home once more. The group was let inside, and Ronan quickly placed on a straw mat next to the fire. Gort soon lumbered over and examined him, taking out the knife with a swift jerk and stemming the fresh red flow with an old rag that he seemed to keep for such occasions. Once the wound stopped bleeding, Gort removed the rag and placed his hands upon Ronan's knee - Ronan fliching terribly as he felt the large objects pressing down on him. There was a soft light around Ronan's leg, and a wave of fresh pain shot through his body - it was like every muscle in his form was on fire, forcing him to seize and twist horribly for a few seconds before Gort drew away, the wound having been healed and the flesh knit together once more. Gort washed his hands in a basin of water, looking with a slightly disapproving frown at Ronan, then an even more disapproving one at Alianor. Clearly he could work out what happened.

"Do be careful." He grunted.

"Oh that's easy for you to say. It's not like this sort of thing is much of a problem for you." Ronan sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I'll be fine, Gort. Do me a favour though- princess needs to learn how to gut a deer, she killed it on the hunt. Did well - real proud of her... but I need a lie down."

"Alright." Gort said simply. He motioned for Alianor to follow him to where the bandits had laid out the fresh carcass. Gort was not the person to force Alianor into participating, but he was more than willing to demonstrate such a useful skill to the young woman.

Banditry! [WhiteRose and FernStone]

Roman grinned wildly at Alianor. He soon assembled the hunting party, including Huxley - who was a far better shot than his paunch might suggest - and a number of bandits Alianor had yet to find out the names of. Making sure that his captive was near the front of the group, just in case adrenaline got the better of her and she decided to take pot shots at him or his men, They set off through the gates.

Ronan was a good hunter. He knew how to read the animal trails: the soft paw prints left by wolves navigating the twisting paths that led through the undergrowth, as well as the tufts of hair caught on thick thorny bushes scattered along the edges of the trails. The hunt went reasonably well overall, Ronan bagging a rabbit which had the misfortune to wander by their party. He was disappointed with Alianor however... He had assumed that once she was out in the wood, even if she was forced to be there, she would get involved with the activity at hand. The woman wasn't even drawing her bowstring. Eventually he decided to make the test more direct.

He spotted something through the trees, and quickly loosed an arrow at it, hitting the in distinct beast with a satisfying thus in its neck. The bandits rushed over to look, and found a deer lying in the mud with the long arrow in its throat. It was dying, clearly: struggling for breath. He took a knife from his belt, then handed it to Alianor with a small smile.

"New girl gets the kill. Put the poor doe out of its misery, won't you? It'll thank you." Ronan said sweetly. Now, he thought, Alianor would have to take matters into her own hands. Today, he thought, was the first day of a new life.

Banditry! [WhiteRose and FernStone]

"Ah, well accidents are no problem. Aim at one of my men, if it troubles you - that way you'll hit the beast after all." Ronan smirked. He whistled to one of his subordinates, waving them over and pointing in Alianor's direction. "Girl's going hunting. Set her up with some leather, would you? Don't want her getting infections from the tree-barbs, she won't fetch as much if she's damaged goods."

There was an audible squeal of delight from the bandit Ronan signalled to. The woman was tall, standing an inch or so above Ronan, fire-haired, with crisp green eyes and a bright, warm smile. She looked a little younger than Alianor, probably being in her late twenties. When she opened her mouth to speak, the cheery, bright tones of a native Greatmoor Highlander floated out. "Ah! Look at you, you gorgeous thing~!" she exclaimed in delight. "Look at your hair... I mean it's covered in shit now, the forest'll do that, but by the fires you are a perfect young lady aren't you? My name is Kessah, I work as the quartermaster. We don't have much for a girl your size, most of the lads are a wee bit bigger than you, but I could taper something great for you. Would you want something push-up? I reckon I could make a leather bodice that's pretty protective if you give me a few minutes to work."

Kessah took Alianor's hand quickly and tugged the woman over to an area filled with spare weapons, leather armour plates, clothing, and miscellaneous supplies. She unwrapped a bundle sitting on a nearby table, revealing a set of tailor's tools which had presumably been stolen from some other poor sod in the past, and quickly set to work making a set of armour for Alianor to wear - consistently changing the details in line with any comments she receives about comfort or styling.

Banditry! [WhiteRose and FernStone]

As Alianor exited the cave sanctuary, she was noticed by a few of the bandits who had been slacking off from chopping firewood nearby. The nudged each other, chuckled a bit, and gave Alianor a few leery looks before one of them eventually had the courage to stride boldly over and grab clumsily at Alianor's hand. By all accounts he was introducing himself with the manners one might expect of a gentleman greeting a lady, however his grip - tight, clenched, slightly painful - told a different story. He smiled to Alianor, gave his name, and said that he and his fellows over by the firewood might be interested in entertaining her now that the 'stick-in-the-mud' Ronan had left her alone. His eyes had a keen, foreboding menace about them, as if every word he spoke had been carefully examined and re-examined to give him the best chances at manipulating his conversation partners. A moment later however, his grip ceased and he was plunged head-first into the dirt.

"Hey! Watch it-" he began, until he saw the hulking frame of Gort looming over him. The giant man grabbed the bandit by his neck and hoisted him into the air. The bandit's friends protested for a little while, but fell quiet when Gort gave them an intimidating glare. "Hey, man, I'm sorry, I... I didn't know you were keen on her... I mean... Gort, man, don't turn me into a meat puppet, man, I don't want to know what that's like..."

Gort threw him down, and the man scampered off. The two bandits who were with him hastily returned to their assigned duties, not daring to look towards Gort and Alianor again. Gort sniffed slightly, then looked to Alianor. "If someone you don't trust talks to you, kick the side or back of their knee as hard as you can. It'll snap. I'll fix them later." he grunted, before wandering off again - a queer ashen smell following him.

A few moments later, Ronan appeared. He frowned at Alianor, not knowing quite how to talk to her. Eventually he decided the direct approach would be most appropriate - thrusting a bow and a quiver stocked with arrows into her hands.

"One of our lads has taken sick, so we're short-handed. I'm told it's traditional for court women to take up target archery, so you're hunting with us. Do you need some trousers, or will our ladyship be wearing her gown tonight?" Ronan waved his hand around in a flowery, mocking way.