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* Lisl hikes through the still-dark woods on the way to Crows Nest just as dawn is beginning to lighten the sky. Though the air still holds some of winter's chill, the dawn breeze blowing from the west is warm and smells faintly of growing things. * Orlann woke nearly two hours before, got up from his bed in Bran's patient rooms, and is now half-drowsing on the bench on the porch, leaning against the wall. * Lisl cocks her head, listening to the back-and-forth of birdcall and the chatter of squirrels as she walks. She takes a deep lungful of air and catches the porch railing in one hand, swinging around it as she mounts the steps two at a time. She pauses in the act of raising her fist to knock as she spots Orlann on the bench. "Morning, Corporal. Early riser? How're you feeling?" * Orlann opens one pale blue eye. "Good morning, ma'am. My wounds seem to be healing." He shrugs one shoulder. * Tarri has only just risen from her own borrowed bed in another patient room and is puttering quietly inside, making tea. <Lisl> Good to hear. ::she knocks lightly on the door:: * Tarri opens the door, still looking a little sleepy. "Morning, Lisl." She notices Orlann without much surprise. "Oh, you're up. I thought you might still be asleep." <Lisl> ::smiling:: Morning, Tarri. Take your time. Dawn comes a little later in the woods... I don't want anyone twisting a foot in a gopher hole. <Tarri> Just let me finish my tea.... Do you want any? Corporal? <Lisl> ::shakes her head:: Maybe later, though, if you keep a pot warm. * Orlann nods. "Please." * Tarri goes back inside and emerges a few minutes later with two steaming cups. The one she hands Orlann has black tea, plain, brewed a trifle strong but not quite up to his standard. Her own cup is a little on the weak side. * Orlann drinks the tea, looking out at the forest. * Lisl wanders back down the steps, surveying the ground in front of the cabin, stomping experimentally from time to time. She takes one hand in the other, raising them both over her head and cracking her back with a succession of loud pops. <Tarri> ::winces at Lisl's percussion:: * Lisl picks an area about twenty feet in diameter and goes over it more carefully, occasionally bending to pick up a rock and chuck it towards the woods. * Orlann watches Lisl for a few minutes, then goes into the house and gets his double-bladed sword. * Tarri watches Lisl as she sips her tea. After a bit, she puts down the empty cup and joins Lisl in the yard, stretching. * Lisl throws herself backwards, hard, slapping the ground with one hand as she lands, and vaults back up to her feet. "This'll do. Nice and springy, just here. Thaw's set in already. Take your time stretching out, it's been awhile." <Tarri> ::nods, stretching some more:: Master Bran says you're to make sure he doesn't overextend. <Lisl> ::raising her eyebrows:: I thought he was just watching, this time? But if Bran thinks he's up to it... ::shrugs:: <Tarri> He said it was up to you, that you'd be able to tell if he was pushing things too hard. <Lisl> ::nods:: Just as glad I brought the toys, then... wait a moment. * Tarri sits on the ground to continue stretching. * Lisl goes to fetch a well-wrapped oilskin bundle from where she'd dropped it near the end of the porch, and carries it back to the little clearing. It clanks faintly when she drops it. "Borrowed a few things from friends... gods, the taxes they must pay...." * Orlann raises one eyebrow, then unwraps his sword, the blades gleaming in the dim light. He holds the center, then spins the sword - almost, but not exactly like one might handle a quarterstaff. * Lisl kneels and unties her long bundle, unrolling it to reveal a quarterstaff, a spear of modest length, a few different styles of dagger and sword, and a couple of axes. She glances up as Orlann spins his sword. "Feel all right? Any pulling or strain?" * Orlann considers as he goes through what is obviously a warm-up with his blade. He frowns during one elaborate motion. "Some, here across the ribs, when I twist, ma'am." <Tarri> ::under her breath, with half a grin:: "Then don't do that." <Lisl> Okay. ::grinning:: Try not to do that, then. We'll be taking things fairly slow, anyway. Tarri's not very used to weaponswork, and I wanted to run through some disarms. * Lisl glances at Tarri with a grin and shakes her finger at her. * Tarri grimaces at this, then sighs and stands up. <Orlann> ::nods, then continues with his warm up:: <Tarri> ::bounces on her toes a few times, then looks at Lisl:: How do you want to start, then? <Lisl> ::looks back and forth from Tarri to Orlann:: Let's get you each a little warmed up before we get to the toys? Punches and blocks drill, Tarri... right-left-right-block, okay? Just hang loose for a moment, Corporal. * Lisl holds up her hands as targets for Tarri. * Orlann nods absently, his eyes focused on some point either too far away or too long ago to really see, his blades flashing as he spins through his routine. <Tarri> ::nods and shifts to stand in front of Lisl, shaking out her hands before curling them into loose fists. She takes a breath, then launches into the drill. She is obviously somewhat out of practice, but the hesitancy she once had is long gone, a hint of ferocity showing in her landing punches.:: * Lisl raises an eyebrow but says nothing as she catches Tarri's punches and swings for the block, holding up her hands again as they repeat the drill a couple times. <Lisl> Good... keep your elbows in, don't get sloppy. * Tarri finishes the final round with, if not expert precision, at least no obviously horrible misses. She grins. <Lisl> ::answers Tarri's grin with one of her own:: None too shabby. Want to try a few falls? <Tarri> ::wrinkles her nose, then sighs:: I suppose I should. <Lisl> ::chuckles:: You can try to drop me, if you prefer. Hard as you like... I'm not setting you and Orlann up with falls 'cause I don't want you breaking each other. Bran would break *me.* <Orlann> ::snorts:: <Tarri> ::laughs:: <Lisl> ::grins:: Don't underestimate him. He used to be quite the braw brawler in his day. * Tarri hesitates a moment, deciding on her approach, then lunges. She telegraphs badly, but manages to get one hand on Lisl's collar and the other fisted in her hair. She yanks hard, pulling Lisl down and across her body. * Lisl restrains a high yelp as Tarri grabs her hair. Her stomach muscles bunch momentarily as if to resist the throw, but instead she twists with it, landing more on her back than her side as she arches out of the way of a possible knee in the kidneys and rolls away from a possible kick. * Lisl rolls to her feet with a grin and dusts herself off. "Good. I was half-expecting some follow-through on that one." <Tarri> ::widens her eyes in mock-innocence:: You said throws-and-falls, oh revered teacher. <Lisl> Aye, that I did. Watch your body movement, though... I saw that one coming well before you touched me. <Tarri> ::makes a face:: You see them *all* coming. <Lisl> ::snorts:: Goody Bea would have seen it coming. Better? <Tarri> I *said* I was out of practice... <Lisl> So you did. ::grins and drops into a fighter's crouch again:: So practice. * Orlann finishes up his series of loops, whirls and spins. Despite the pull of his bad leg, he almost seems to be dancing with an invisible partner. * Lisl glances at Orlann briefly, watching him out of the corner of her eye for a moment before turning her full attention back to Tarri. * Tarri sighs exaggeratedly before dropping into a similar crouch. This time, she manages a passable feint, almost grabbing Lisl for a throw and then instead sweeping her forward leg out from under her. While Lisl is (pretending to be) recovering, Tarri tackles her, riding her to the ground and ending with an elbow at her throat. <Lisl> ::coughs as the hard fall knocks the wind from her lungs:: Uncle. Okay, better. * Tarri gets up, breathing a little hard. "Though that wouldn't work with someone *much* bigger than me, I don't think." <Lisl> Bigger they are, the harder they fall... but you're right, you wouldn't get the momentum to drop them in the first place. For a larger opponent, you might try a sweep with something like this... ::grasps Tarri's wrist and sweeps her foot quickly, turning to one side to catch her on the point of her hip and almost "roll" her over her back, pulling up on the wrist as she falls to drop her lightly on her back:: <Tarri> Uhff! Sure. No problem. ::she grabs Lisl's wrist and pulls herself up:: <Lisl> You're not carrying the weight-- you're using your opponent's momentum against him. ::shows Tarri the throw again in slow motion, stopping as she brings Tarri's weight up against her hip and setting her down on her feet again:: * Orlann leans his sword on the ground. gingerly resting one blade against his shoulder to applaud softly. <Tarri> ::ignores Orlann, biting her lip as she tries to copy Lisl's throw in mime:: <Lisl> ::grins at Orlann:: I'm *not* going to set her against you with falls just now. Maybe when you've healed up a bit more. ::turns back to watch Tarri critically, reaching out to adjust a position at one point and nod:: I think you've got the hang of it. Want to try it once on me, or are you okay? <Tarri> ::mimes it again, then frowns and shakes her head:: No... I need to get a feel for it more, first. <Tarri> And we're probably boring the Corporal to tears with my baby steps. ::she flashes him a quick smile:: <Orlann> ::shakes his head:: No, miss, you're not. ::he flashes her one of his quick smiles that lights up his entire expression:: <Lisl> ::nods:: Alright. In that case, here... ::she hooks her foot under the quarterstaff in her bundle and kicks it up to her hand, handing it over to Tarri:: Do a little run-through with this. ::nods towards a tree:: You might try abusing that big, mean maple over there a little-- light hits only though, please. <Tarri> ::mock-glares at Lisl as she takes the staff:: Light hits are *harder*. ::she walks over to the tree, however, without waiting for an answer, and begins going through a beginner's drill, practicing sweeps and simple lunges.:: <Lisl> Corporal, do you want to try some hand-to-hand, or a little sword sparring? Three-quarter speed either way, no throws. I don't want to open anything up again that shouldn't be. * Orlann lays his sword down near Lisl's stack of assorted weaponry. "Let's start hand-to-hand, ma'am?" <Lisl> ::nods:: As you like. ::rolls her neck to loosen it, eyeing him:: No kicks, though. We're not going to put too much stress on that leg-- footwork's going to be tricky enough just now. ::settling into position:: * Orlann stands almost like a fencer, presenting only his right side - the uninjured one - to Lisl. <Lisl> Hmmm. ::studies his stance, circling to her left a little, and tries a couple of low feints with her fist:: * Orlann appears to be of the philosophy that states "the best way not to get hurt is not to be where the punch is headed" and dodges. * Lisl grins and moves in a little, keeping a low profile, feinting again twice before trying to tag his elbow with a light hit that would disable the nerve, were more force applied. * Orlann moves with her, his eyes half-slitted with almost lazy indifference, but he avoids her touch, then feints with a quick, feather-light blow to the sternum. * Lisl raises her eyebrows as she accepts the touch, nodding her head to acknowledge a hit. She opens the range a little, circling back as she drops to throw a shoulder punch towards his midsection. * Orlann accepts the punch to close the distance, a quick hand darting at her throat. * Lisl blocks the throat-punch hard on her left arm, reaching to stab her fingers against the cluster of nerves under his arm with her right. * Orlann steps back out of range, shaking out his hand. "My sergeant was fond of that nerve as well, ma'am." He flashes his teeth at her. <Lisl> ::chuckles:: Someone taught you well. <Orlann> ::nods:: Some of the militia took an interest in my instruction after my father died. ::he looks momentarily grim:: They thought it would be a fitting tribute to him, to have his son as great as he. I am not, yet. <Lisl> Your father must have been quite a fighter, then. ::she turns slightly, "accidentally," as she circles, her guard a little low to offer him an opening at her head.:: <Orlann> ::nods again:: He was magnificent. ::he takes a few testing jabs towards her mid-section and kidneys:: * Tarri grumbles as the staff hits the tree with an audible "thock!" a little too hard. She glances over her shoulder at Lisl and Orlann, then sighs and tries the lunge again. * Lisl blocks the blow towards her midsection, grunting realistically as he gets her in the kidney and backing off a little to catch her breath. "You want to subdue the tree, Tarri, not make firewood! Drop your left elbow more." * Orlann grins widely. "Were you ever a drill sergeant, ma'am?" <Lisl> ::returning his grin:: Very possibly. That was a long time ago, though. ::she wipes a hand across her forehead and tweaks the soft point of her ear with one finger:: <Orlann> It seemed likely... they all develop the same tone, after a while... hazard of the occupation. ::he shrugs:: * Tarri mumbles something under her breath about slippery grass and the tree being perfectly well paralyzed with fright, thankyouverymuch, and follows it up with another mutter about "terror of the squirrels" and gently *tok*s the staff's end against a particularly menacing knothole. <Lisl> ::grins at Orlann, and steps away a moment for a sudden paroxysm of coughing to cover a laugh. She gives Tarri a brief glare and shakes her head, stepping in again to circle around Orlann, guard up:: * Orlann glances over at Tarri for a moment, distracted. <Lisl> 'Ware. ::spins suddenly, reversing her circle and stepping in to direct a flurry of feints and blows at Orlann's midsection and chest:: * Orlann grins and turns into her circle, catching several of her blows along his chest and then back as he turns, aiming one sharp elbow for her sternum. * Lisl takes a leaf from Orlann's book of hand-to-hand and dodges to one side, taking the elbow in a glancing graze on her shoulder as she moves. * Orlann steps back, breathing a little harder. "I don't believe, ma'am, that I wish to know how fast you are when you are not 'going slow.'" <Lisl> ::grins at him:: Alright, perhaps I picked up the pace a little, there. I like my breastbone where it is. ::takes a few steps back, watching him carefully:: How's the leg? Any pain? <Orlann> :nods:: It aches, a bit. Nothing too bad, but I suspect I'd prefer not to have to run laps. <Lisl> ::chuckles:: Best be glad I'm *not* a drill sergeant, then. Want to switch to weapons for a little? * Orlann shakes his head. "Just for a bit, ma'am." He frowns. "The pull in my side is throwing off my balance, when I swing." <Lisl> ::nods:: I promise, I'll stay put more. Go easy on me, though, I haven't fought your sword style in a *very* long time. * Orlann balances the hilt of his two-bladed sword on his foot and pops it up. "My father's weapon, and his before him, and his before him." * Lisl raises her eyebrows and nods, muttering softly to herself as she turns, "So maybe it was that very blade the *last* time... wouldn't that be a kick in the head." She bends to inspect her collection of pointy things, settling on a plain-hilted long sword. "How are you doing over there, Tarri?" * Tarri stops her drill, panting and flushed with exertion, and leans on her staff. "I need a *break* now." <Lisl> Take a few minutes, then. But keep moving. You *really* don't want to get stiff after this kind of practice, trust me. * Orlann holds a ready stance, the sword at the ready. <Tarri> ::nods in acknowledgement, then leans the staff against the well-conquered tree. She paces slowly back and forth, stretching her arms as she watches the sparring:: * Lisl flashes a grin at Tarri as she takes a couple of practice swipes with the sword, testing its balance. With a satisfied nod, she approaches Orlann, sword up at guard, expression wary. She salutes him with it and settles into position on the balls of her feet. <Lisl> At your own speed, Corporal. Don't push it. * Orlann spins into a lazy, negligent attack, flickering one blade, then the other, at the sword Lisl holds. <Lisl> ::parries his two attacks with a near-invisible flick of the wrist:: Don't push *you*, I meant. Feel free to push me as much as you like. * Lisl raises an eyebrow and parries his attacks again, swinging her sword off the last parry in a C-cut aimed at the joint of his shoulder. * Orlann parries, then follows that with the second blade aimed low, for the knee. * Lisl moves, spinning away from the blow as her sword rebounds from his and bringing it down two-handed to parry the cut. * Orlann begins a flurry of testing strokes, using one blade to attack, the other to parry, switching the sword from one hand to the other in a flicker of motion. * Lisl picks up speed a little, holding her ground as she strikes his blows away, slipping in attacks of her own between. Her eyes are slightly unfocused, her gaze directed somewhere through his chest as she wards off his attacks, careful to draw the weight of his parries away from his injured side. * Tarri is watching wide-eyed, her warm-down stretching entirely forgotten. * Orlann brings his blade into a full spin, striking Lisl's several times, sending a vibrating jolt down the blade with each blow. * Lisl braces a leg back and parries his sword double-handed, steel grinding against steel. On the last parry, her weaker blade snaps with a ringing crack, the point burying itself in the dirt behind her, the hilt-end catching the bulk of his blow. Her eyes widen and she darts quickly out from under the blow, but not quite fast enough to avoid a long, shallow slice on the arm. * Orlann hisses, dropping his guard. "Son of a bi..." He flushes. "Sorry, ma'am. Are you hurt?" <Lisl> Enough! Hells... Gerson's going to kill me. ::she holds her hand over the slice on her arm:: Just a scratch, I'm fine. But you were slowing a little, there, to the right. I think it's time to give that leg a rest. * Tarri comes over, rummaging in her pocket, and hands Lisl a roll of bandage with a faint smile. * Orlann shakes his head. "I'm very sorry." <Lisl> ::grins:: And luckily, we have a medic on call. ::accepts the bandage with a nod of thanks, rolling it a little awkwardly around her arm. A little blood stains the white gauze, but not enough to indicate a serious injury.:: It's alright, Corporal, I'm fine. It happens sometimes when we play with sharp things. No fault of yours the steel was flawed. <Tarri> ::babbling a little to distract Orlann from Lisl's not-injury:: How's your side? You didn't pull it, did you? That was *very* impressive... I've never seen anything quite like it. * Orlann sighs. "I wasn't pulling the blow as well as I should have." He turns to Tarri. "I don't *believe* so, miss. It pains a bit, but not badly." <Lisl> :;raises her eyebrows with a grin:: That was pulled? *Very* impressive, Corporal. <Tarri> ::firmly:: No more today, then, and we'll take a good look when it's time to change the dressing. <Orlann> ::shrugs:: It's meant to disarm. You have very strong wrists, ma'am. ::he salutes her respectfully:: <Lisl> ::grins a little at Tarri:: All cooled-down? <Tarri> ::looks up at Lisl, suddenly a little shame-faced, and pulls her arm across her chest in a tentative stretch:: Um... Mostly? I kind of forgot. I'll be a little sore later, I guess. <Lisl> Heh. I know more than a few dirty tricks, too. ::eyes Tarri sternly:: Liniment. Have Bran give your shoulders a good rub-down before bed or you'll *really* hate me in the morning. <Orlann> ::allows himself a grin:: In an actual battle, ma'am, I'd prefer to keep you across the field and shoot bolts at you. <Tarri> ::nods, flushing slightly as she digs a toe into the moss:: <Lisl> ::grins back at Orlann:: In an actual battle, Corporal, you'd best be damn sure of your aim. <Lisl> ::claps Tarri on the back:: You did fine for being a little rusty. Not your fault you got a little distracted. ::chuckles:: * Orlann snorts, then picks up his sword again and begins a careful inspection of the edge. * Tarri half-smiles, still embarrassed, and turns, walking back to the tree to retrieve the abandoned staff. * Lisl shakes her head in mock-despair as she bends to retrieve the broken pieces of her sword, tossing them carelessly on her weapons-roll. "Ah, well. I'll get him a better one." <Orlann> Ma'am? If your friend is... going to be put out, I'll owe for the blade. Repayment will have to wait until I've found employment, but... it was my doing. <Lisl> ::snorts:: It was my doing for parrying when I should have rightfully let go of the bloody thing. Nah, Gerson won't really be angry... I doubt he gave me the best of his blades to begin with. And I expect he'll be more than delighted to have a story to tease me about. ::shakes her head:: Don't worry about it, Corporal, really. And please, call me Lisl. "Ma'am" makes me look around for someone respectable. * Tarri comes back after a little longer than strictly necessary, most of her blush faded, and hands the staff to Lisl. <Lisl> ::nods and accepts the staff, tucking it back into her roll:: There. The squirrels will be relieved. * Tarri blushes again, furiously, not having meant Lisl to overhear her grumbling. * Lisl grins broadly at Tarri, and winks. * Orlann gives a half-smile, his skin darkening across his cheeks. "Are we that familiar, ma'am? I haven't called a woman by her given name unless we were..." He colors even darker, looking at the ground. * Tarri studies an apparently fascinating blade of grass right by her big toe. * Tarri glances up at Orlann quickly, sudden understanding blossoming in her green eyes before she looks back at the blade of grass. It's probably a good thing she was already blushing pretty hard. <Lisl> ::coughs:: Ye gods, it's Kevil all over again... no, Corporal, use what you're comfortable with. In the city, there's no shame in being on a first-name basis with women. <Orlann> ::glances at her:: In the mountains, there aren't so very many women that one wants to show disrespect for them. <Lisl> ::sighs and nods:: Aye, I'd forgotten. *My* apologies, Corporal. <Orlann> ::snorts:: Well, ma'am, I'd imagine were I to be too forward with you, it'd be yourself, and not your brother, I should be worried about. <Tarri> ::giggles, just a bit hysterically:: <Lisl> ::laughs:: Aye. ::grins:: I don't even *have* a brother for you to be worried about. Tho' I'd not cross my sister, either. ::smirks a little at a private joke:: <Tarri> ::grins impishly at Lisl:: Or your mother. <Lisl> ::coughs:: Ha. Mother'd probably be happy I was taking an interest... ::snorts:: * Orlann eyes Lisl for a long moment, his pale blue eyes speculative, then shakes his head, grinning at himself. * Lisl misses the look entirely as she bends to roll her weapons up and tie the package closed again. * Tarri does not, and grins a little wider. * Orlann stretches a little, wincing as he arches his side. <Lisl> Alright... ::straightens, shouldering the bundle and balancing it easily with one hand, her injury apparently forgotten:: If there's any tea left, I'd take some now. <Tarri> ::eyes Orlann's wince, then nods:: Sure. Come on up to the house, and you can have some tea while I take a look a the Corporal's side. <Lisl> ::nods, looking concerned:: I hope we didn't overdo it... I'm afraid I got a little... enthusiastic, there, towards the end. <Orlann> ::looks faintly grouchy:: It's only a little sore, miss, I promise. <Tarri> ::smiling slightly:: I'm sure Master Bran will give you a very stern talking-to, if you feel guilty about it, Lisl. <Lisl> I'm sure he will. ::glances at Orlann with the ghost of a smile:: But the corporal knows to listen to his healers. <Tarri> The bandages need to be changed anyway. It can't hurt to look. * Orlann shrugs, resigned. "All right, miss." * Lisl heads back towards the cabin, making a brief side-trip to drop her clanking bundle off at the end of the porch again. "In any case, thanks for a good practice, both of you." <Tarri> ::grins briefly at Orlann:: Healed enough that the confinement chafes, hmm? It won't be much longer... <Tarri> ::makes a rueful face at Lisl, but says nothing:: * Orlann follows Tarri back into the house. * Lisl catches up to the two of them, tucking the bandage around her arm again where it had slipped free, revealing a smear of dried blood over unmarked flesh. |
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