Let's get down to business

[unswervingcompanion]

WHO: Hendrik & yourself
WHEN: June
WHERE: The farm
WHAT: Training
WARNINGS: None, will change if needed





Making a temporary place for himself in an unfamiliar world was a huge task. But the one task the knight would never tire of is that of ensuring the safety of the Luminary. The boy would have been a Prince of Dundrasil had a cruel fate not befallen him. Torn from his family as an infant he was raised in a small village after being rescued from the water. Greater still was destiny's hand as he survived and grew to manhood. After more than a few wrong turns, Hendrik realized his great error in doggedly pursuing the boy with the very misguided intent of killing him. The knight had sworn himself to the Luminary, they became friends and the boy did his duty of delivering their world from an evil known as Mordegon. With the darkness conquered that had taken his own family, friends (including his childhood friend Jasper) and home, Hendrik remained vigilant even if he had yet to realize he and his companion weren't from the same time frames.

This vigilance included training so one day he was out to try and refocus on this task of trying to make the abnormal seem a little more familiar. So swordplay was the order for the day as much else wasn't being done at the current time.

So with an extra weapon or two thanks to the Luminary's forging ability, Hendrik is out practicing with his axe and shield. Turning when he hears footsteps, the tall knight would nod at whoever approached.

"Are you here to test your blade?"

Comments

[sergeant_slick]

Slick was still finding his feet here. All this guff about magic didn't sit right, but he'd seen it, and he didn't even have a fresh concussion to blame it on anymore. Magic. Sure.

For now, he was in his armor, sans helmet and utility belt. He'd been captured without either of those, and he was missing them almost as much as his rifle. The shiny white armor might've been a sign of the Republic's ownership of him and all his brothers, but at least it kept you warm when it was all sealed up.

Ah well. He still had the rest of it, and he wasn't weird about non-clones seeing his face, like some of his brothers got. Though he was going to need to figure out where to get some dye, eventually--the red in his eyebrows was going to fade if he didn't. But he had no idea where you found that kind of stuff outside the army.

This guy with the purple hair might know, though. Tall bugger, this one. Had a bit of the officer air about him.

"'s not my specialty." If they were talking hand-to-hand or knife work? Sure. He could do that, and he'd fight dirty. Much beyond that? They didn't get trained for it, but he knew how to improvise.

"But if that's what we've got, might be worth it. If you've got a spare."

[bearshermark]

Sparring with Hendrik had become a daily occurrence once they'd settled into the farm. Even armed with dual blades, Eleven had discovered without fail that he was no match for his protector. His size and strength alone pitted him at a significant disadvantage, and while he was certainly faster and more nimble than the man, neither was he Erik. Erik, he was sure, would be able to get in close and spin quickly enough to have a chance at his back. Eleven had tried the maneuver he imagined his best friend would use several times over, but Hendrik's defense was impeccable.

Rather than successfully circle him, Eleven found both swords crossed just under the sharp edge of Hendrik's axe, gritting his teeth through the weight bore down on him through one strong arm until finally, his knees buckled. Eleven dropped with a hard breath, blades held loosely in hands that trembled from the strain of effort.

"Goddess," he breathed, shaking his head. Well enough they often chose to practice in the waning hours of the day as these spars always managed to push him to his limit. His spars with Archeval in the mornings served as light exercise in comparison. "I swear I will best you at some point."