Javorcek
Supernova
- Joined
- Jun 19, 2013
- Location
- United Sates - NY
“I’ve got 10 silver on Cooky!”
“Come on, Smithy! Show ‘im who’s boss.”
“I’m not fighting her!” The new cook grumbled in response to the circle of jeering mercenaries that surrounded himself and the blacksmith. The men had decided to camp in this clearing for the night. It wasn't quite dark yet though and so to pass the time, a couple of the mercenaries had decided to wrestle and take bets on who would come out the victor. "And keep your voices down!" The young cook hissed, glancing around the treeline nervously. For days the small band of mercenaries had been making their way through the uncharted woods, hired by the king to find a path through the Berges mountains...few ever left this pass alive. While he and many others believed that the pass was cursed, their leader chalked up such bad luck to the weather and fools not being able to find the exit from the pass.
“And why not fight her?!?!” An older scout glared at the chef expectantly, obviously he was taking offense to such chivalry because the young blacksmith had often proved her worth by following him on recon missions. To him, Sasha was as good as as any male in the field, and so an insult on her ability was less an insult on her gender and more an assault on her status as a blacksmith/scout.
“She’s just a kid!” The cook said exasperatedly as he tried to grasp for excuses, not wishing to offend the female soldiers but also not wishing to hit a girl either.
“I am a winter younger than you! And I can fight just fine.” Sasha growled, now getting properly annoyed. The cook was maybe only a year or two older than her! And worst of all, he was making this whole thing damn thing embarrassing!
Usually in bands of mercenaries, the cooks, medics, and blacksmiths were not expected to actually fight in skirmishes because it was difficult to find skilled replacements for them; but still, the leader made them practice and spar. Whether it was to prepare them for a surprise attack that broke through their ranks or simply for the amusement of the other mercenaries, Sasha couldn’t be sure.
When the their leader barked at the two of them to suck it up and spar, both specialists complied. The group that had gathered around them was soon surprised to see Sasha knocking the cook’s sword away after a few blows, the young chef looking just as astonished as the rest of the crowd.
“Beginner’s luck… Isolder! Get in there!” The leader hollared and now Sasha found herself facing off against a young male mercenary who had obviously seen his fair share of fights if the scars on his face were any gauge of his past. Again, Sasha’s speed, flexibility and agility made her the victor of this round.
"Alright Smithy, alright. I take it back, not beginner's luck." The older man laughed.
"Yes, well, hard to make a quality sword unless you know how to swing one." Sasha grinned as she sheathed her blade. Fighting wasn't quite her cup of tea, she preferred to make weapons rather than use them. But a poor, journeyman smith like her had to be well versed in swordplay as she worked to design her masterwork piece. Shooing the horses of mercenaries and repairing their gear wasn't so bad, hopefully this job would leave her with enough money to finally buy proper materials for her masterwork and return to her father as a Master Blacksmith.
“Come on, Smithy! Show ‘im who’s boss.”
“I’m not fighting her!” The new cook grumbled in response to the circle of jeering mercenaries that surrounded himself and the blacksmith. The men had decided to camp in this clearing for the night. It wasn't quite dark yet though and so to pass the time, a couple of the mercenaries had decided to wrestle and take bets on who would come out the victor. "And keep your voices down!" The young cook hissed, glancing around the treeline nervously. For days the small band of mercenaries had been making their way through the uncharted woods, hired by the king to find a path through the Berges mountains...few ever left this pass alive. While he and many others believed that the pass was cursed, their leader chalked up such bad luck to the weather and fools not being able to find the exit from the pass.
“And why not fight her?!?!” An older scout glared at the chef expectantly, obviously he was taking offense to such chivalry because the young blacksmith had often proved her worth by following him on recon missions. To him, Sasha was as good as as any male in the field, and so an insult on her ability was less an insult on her gender and more an assault on her status as a blacksmith/scout.
“She’s just a kid!” The cook said exasperatedly as he tried to grasp for excuses, not wishing to offend the female soldiers but also not wishing to hit a girl either.
“I am a winter younger than you! And I can fight just fine.” Sasha growled, now getting properly annoyed. The cook was maybe only a year or two older than her! And worst of all, he was making this whole thing damn thing embarrassing!
Usually in bands of mercenaries, the cooks, medics, and blacksmiths were not expected to actually fight in skirmishes because it was difficult to find skilled replacements for them; but still, the leader made them practice and spar. Whether it was to prepare them for a surprise attack that broke through their ranks or simply for the amusement of the other mercenaries, Sasha couldn’t be sure.
When the their leader barked at the two of them to suck it up and spar, both specialists complied. The group that had gathered around them was soon surprised to see Sasha knocking the cook’s sword away after a few blows, the young chef looking just as astonished as the rest of the crowd.
“Beginner’s luck… Isolder! Get in there!” The leader hollared and now Sasha found herself facing off against a young male mercenary who had obviously seen his fair share of fights if the scars on his face were any gauge of his past. Again, Sasha’s speed, flexibility and agility made her the victor of this round.
"Alright Smithy, alright. I take it back, not beginner's luck." The older man laughed.
"Yes, well, hard to make a quality sword unless you know how to swing one." Sasha grinned as she sheathed her blade. Fighting wasn't quite her cup of tea, she preferred to make weapons rather than use them. But a poor, journeyman smith like her had to be well versed in swordplay as she worked to design her masterwork piece. Shooing the horses of mercenaries and repairing their gear wasn't so bad, hopefully this job would leave her with enough money to finally buy proper materials for her masterwork and return to her father as a Master Blacksmith.