A Paladin's Heart

[Toliudar]

Malfrin

The squire nods at Owyn's gentle direction, and does what he can to follow the much older paladin's lead with his own horse.

C'mere, Slim. And...sweeping back from the ears. Back from the ears. Ack! Yes, sir.

When the grooming is nearly complete, Malfrin turns back to Owyn and Malar. His words come in a rush.

I would be honoured to complete this task on my own, sir. You have travelled far, and deserve to rest. If you wish, I will see to the packs and bedding as well. And shall I inquire with the smithy about assistance with that place in your armour where the ogre caught you, er, unawares, sir?

With a small bow and head bob to Manar, Malfrin smiles and awaits instructions.

[storybookknight]

Owyn narrows his eyes at Malfrin. "Malfrin! I've already told you, I don't need a bodyservant. You've traveled as far as I have, on a worse mount, my armor is fine, and you really need to stop worrying about propriety! I already told you, I'm not that kind of knight!" He looks at Manar abruptly, suddenly realizing that his discussion - or argument - had an audience. "Ehm, I apologize, milady, err... we've only recently begun traveling with each other." Unsuccessfully trying not to turn red, Owyn turns back to his squire. "Besides, it's more important that you finish in time to get some food before we make use of this temple's salle. Your footwork is alright, but your swings still could use more force. You're not knife-fighting anymore, boy, so until you learn better you're going to be doing crescent moon drills until you can't feel your arms, at which point we're switching to lunges."

[Toliudar]

Malfrin

Malfrin endures the upbraiding with a certain twinkle.

All right. I just figured you'd want to be a bit more proper in front a strangers. I'm sure Slim won't mind being called a worse horse, 'cause she knows how much I've come to love her.

And I'll tell the smithy that you'll come see them yourself about the torn links in your armour's butt.

Knowing that he'll pay dearly for this in his training session this evening, Malfrin is nonetheless incapable of suppressing a grin. He returns to complete Slim's grooming.

[storybookknight]

Owyn turns an even brighter shade of red and stiffly turns around to continue his care of Lady, who whickers in a suspiciously snicker-like fashion. Of course, Owyn takes the opportunity to brush slightly too hard, then adroitly dodges a mock-bite at the side of his head. His ceremonial herald's tunic covers his body down to the back of his knees, but it can be noticed that he tends to squat rather than leaning over when picking things up, and that he is jingling slightly more than chainmail tends to when in proper repair.

[Ravyn]

Manar's smile widens somewhat, though she doesn't quite snicker, but she can't resist the opening. "Not to worry, gentlemen, you'll find everything you need, so we can safely say it'll all come out right in the end."

She beckons them towards the main building. "The kitchen's this way, and the training grounds are down the path here and to the right... might it be possible for me to join you? I haven't been knocked around a ring since near the end of my circuit training, and there's only so much I can do alone." Besides, in his eyes I probably deserve to take a few falls after that last line....

[Toliudar]

Malfrin

Very quietly, and shielded from the eyes of both senior paladins by Slim's body, Malfrin falls in love. In the end? My god, she's strong, beautiful AND a total cornball.

Completing his chores, Malfrin nods at Manar.

I'd be honoured to train with you, Madam. Till dinner?

With a tip of a non-existant hat, Malfrin shoulders his pack and bow, and trudges off to find his assigned lodgings.

[storybookknight]

Owyn shakes his head ruefully. "Let me get my gear squared away, and then I'd be glad to train you both. I could use some practice defending against multiple opponents, and it's always good to work up an appetite before meals." That said, Owyn grabbed his backpack and hoisted it onto his shoulders, moving the apparently full bag effortlessly, picked up his shield from its pocket on his saddle, and hung the saddle on a nearby post. Giving Lady a friendly pat goodbye, Owyn stepped lively to catch up with Malfrin and Manar. "So, tell me about the rest of your visitors. Are they all knights and squires as well?"

[Ravyn]

"You're the only ones who come in pairs I've seen so far," Manar replies. "So far, we've seen two of Tyr, one of Yondalla. Samson, Aleksei, and Rayvon, respectively. They all stand out a bit; Rayvon's a halfling and being followed around by a dog about as tall as he is, Aleksei's a northerner so he showed up in a fur hat, and Samson's a minotaur. Wonderful people, all of them. They've some fascinating stories."

A few steps further, and she tells Malfrin, "Here, this way. May's well get you all settled in, hm?" and proceeds to lead the visitors towards their quarters.

[storybookknight]

Owyn smiled at that last, and murmured "I would imagine so", then continued with a quizzical look on his face. "Are these others also Lathanderites, then? Torm's is not yet a numerous faith, though its followers compensate with zeal what they lack in manpower. I am personally familiar with most, if not all, of the knights in my Lord's service, and I know of few northmen, few halflings, and not a single minotaur, save that which decorates Sir Derrick's trophy wall." In a slightly lower tone, he continued "and Gods know how many times we all heard him talk about how he killed it, with only a broken sword and his eating knife as weaponry - while he was alive, anyways, rest his soul."

[Toliudar]

Malfrin

A northerner, a halfling and a minotaur. Sounds like the start of a joke, back home. Hmm.

Following, Malfrin smiles at Owyn's story, and murmurs the the traditional Torm take him to his rest at the mention of Sir Derrick.

At their quarters, Malfrin forces himself NOT to automatically scan for possible hiding places and points of emergency egress. You're an invited guest here, stupid. Nobody's going to come after you for your bed. Smiling warmly and with gratitude to both Manar and Owyn, he pipes up.

Thanks again, Lady Manar. Now, I don't know about both of you, but this squire is going to find some hot water to soak his saddle-sore ass in.

Abruptly, he turns and goes into his chamber, trying to hide his own reddening face.

ASS? You tell Lady Manar about your ASS? Smooth move, Squire Manure For Brains.

[storybookknight]

Aside from a muttered "Decorum, Malfrin", Owyn doesn't criticize his squire overmuch on his choice of language. While the boy earned a little bit of teasing for his earlier remarks, Owyn thought, this is a new situation for him, and he's reverting to behaviors that make him comfortable. He'll earn his penance on the battlefield - though if the two of them team up on me, it might be me that earns his bumps and bruises. That boy is deadly accurate in close quarters, for sure.

Owyn went to his quarters and squared away his gear, then went back outside to wait for Malfrin before they headed to the practice grounds. In his combat dress, Owyn is quite lightly armored, wearing only a silvery chainmail hauberk and a similarly colored cap, with chain to protect the neck and back that is covered by a white burnoose. His shield is fairly traditional, and uncovered reveals the emblem of Torm with no family name nor noble background accompanying the religious insignia. His sword appears to be a lighter blade, an intermediate type between a saber and a rapier of austerely fine and unornamented quality; little else is noticeable while it is still sheathed. He is also carrying a well-nocked and dented practice sword of an unusual round wood; bound with leather are covered slots into which may be inserted lead weights to adjust the blade's balance and weight.

[Ravyn]

Manar shakes her head. "Nah, I'm the only Lathanderite of the six of us who've arrived so far--that includes the two of you, of course. You might even have run into Rayvon en route; he said he'd come from that way as well. Oh--give me a moment, my mentor'd have my ears if he knew I messed up my blues swordswinging when I had a choice." She vanishes into her own room, returning not long after in leather armor and a somewhat stained green undershirt, her hair in the closest approximation of a ponytail she can manage for its length. "Much better. All right, Sir Owyn, I'm ready to be reminded how the ground tastes, once Squire Malfrin's ready. While we're waiting..." All right, what can I ask that won't be too sensitive? "...how does your Order determine who squires whom and for how long?"

[Toliudar]

Malfrin

The teen steps back into the hallway just in time to hear Manar's question.

With a twisted sense of humour, and until they no longer find it amusing, I think.

Malfrin hasn't changed much, but a ton of the dust from the road has been scrubbed away. He's donned a steel cap that tufts of his hair manage to find a way out from underneath. He wears a chain shirt similar to Owyn's, but with a plain woolen burnoose. He has strapped a simple buckler onto his right arm, and the copper pommel of his sword glints as it swings from his belt. Malfrin's boots have seen better times, but they're about as polished as the leather permits.

Malfrin almost flinches at the sight of Owyn's practice swords. He mentally reviews, and tries to think if there's any part of his body that hasn't been bruised, battered or accidentally crushed, either through his own misstep, or through Owyn's 'gentle' instruction.

In truth, Owyn's been a patient guide and teacher, and I'm grateful to be in his service.

Bowing to the senior knights, he indicates that they should precede him, if they wish.

Not that saying that will get me out of extra drilling tonight.

[Ravyn]

Manar chuckles and teasingly asks, "Then would you prefer I take the roundabout route and show you some of the sights, or just bring you straight there and get this over with?" Without waiting for an answer she leads her two guests through the halls (showing them the sights en route, as well as she can--a few statues here, a particularly spectacular window there, and of course the kitchen when her path takes her past it) and into the salle, pausing only to pick up a practice sword of her own at the entrance with a nod and smile to the temple armsmaster. "Well... here we are." She gestures in front of her at the salle; it's wide and open, the floor is covered with fresh sawdust that gives off a cedary aroma, and scattered throughout are knots of people and individuals sparring, or performing their exercises, or otherwise training.

[Toliudar]

Malfrin

Malfrin tries his best to keep up with Manar's tour, but managed to do little more than gawp at the finery of the temple.

Wow. They probably have nice stuff like this in the temple of Lathander in Suzail, but not in the front room. There, they got one big statue, but everything smaller is pretty much nailed down.

He pauses. Nope. No good way to fix that.

I hear.

Malfrin tries to walk with confidence into the salle. There, he unstraps his sword and lays it carefully aside, then goes through the regimen of prayer and stretches that Owyn had not quite literally beaten into him, and looks around at the others working out in the salle.

[Varen_Tai]

One figure immediately stood out - the minotaur, wielding a huge greatsword, was beating the stuffing out of a dummy. Slow, but deliberate, each blow was well placed. Most of the other warriors gave him a wide berth, all except for one figure, leaning on his sword and watching. As the group approached, they could see that it was Aleksei, catching his breath. Rayvon was nowhere to be seen.

[storybookknight]

Owyn began stretching and praying with Malfrin, but didn't really bother to pay too much attention to how the squire was doing it. As far as he was concerned, Malfrin knew how already, and if he didn't stretch properly, it would be his own miserable hamstrings in the morning. That, and he had teased the boy enough already today - though maintaining his impassive demeanor on the walk to the salle had been difficult.

"Samson! and you must be Aleksei!" Owyn called out, sparing a moment to wave a hand before returning to his leg stretch. "Would either of you care for a few more sparring partners? I'm sure that if the dummy would talk, it would probably concede defeat." Owyn grinned as he spoke, looking at the tattered training mannequin. With that, he stood up and bowed slightly in the other paladin's direction, more of a habitual action than anything else. "Herald Owyn and Squire Malfrin of Torm, at your service." The formal bow quickly metamorphosed into a handshake of friendly camraderie with the first of the two to approach.

[mdsoze]

Samson leans down on his sword, eyeing the new arrivals. He walks over, and offers his massive hand in a greeting.

I am Samson, Paladin of Tyr. It is good to meet you, Sir Owyn and Sir Malfrin.

He steps to the side, and bows low.

And Lady Manar, it is good to have your company again.

Stepping back, he turns to Owyn.

Well, I accept your offer. How does your squire fight?

Samson looks over Malfrin.

I figure he'll do fine. I propose the practice to be Malfrin and I against Owyn, Manar, and Aleksei.

[Ryshan Ynrith]

Aleksei smiles, and bows formally. "Aleksei Fedotovich Rytsar, chosen of Tyr. A great pleasure to meet you and your squire, Sir Owyn."

Aleksei wears his battle-gear to practice: embossed mithril breastplate, a plain tunic and pants, and yellow leather boots. He still bears the old, somewhat beat-up plain shield he came into the city with, but his normal blade is nowhere in evidence. Instead, Aleksei has a practice saber, long and somewhat curved, with a very blunt edge.

"I would gladly accept more sparring partners. My morning drills were quite dull until Sir Samson here showed up, and I think the more the better. I believe the arrangement will be fair, Sir Samson, though I've no measure of the skill of our newcomers. I am ready...shall we?"

Aleksei smoothly drops into a fighting stance, shield up and sword ready. His motions speak of many years of experience, and his eyes betray no hint of his next action.

[Ravyn]

Manar half-smiles, steps back next to Aleksei and brings up her own practice blade, her stance balanced and her eyes darting between her opponents. "Works for me."

Here's hoping I don't come across as too rusty... I've a reputation to uphold, after all.

[storybookknight]

Owyn smiled politely, but his voice had a hint of enthusiasm as he squared his shield towards the newcomer and hefted his sword up over his shoulder. "Malfrin and I are rather skilled at working together, and have some practice with it; it should do us well to encounter each other's fighting styles when both of us have groups at our back." Though he says this, his eyes are firmly fixed on his larger, more capable foe. I know how Malfrin fights... one or the other of my partners should be able to keep him off our backs while the other two of us tackle Samson. He's big, and strong, but if he's not as good as he thinks he is, he's being very cocky... There was an additional edge to Owyn's smile, but he refrained from mentioning anything of the sort. Humility in all things, after all - it is entirely possible that this character is good enough to take on two trained knights by himself; if so, this bodes well for whatever venture we're about to embark upon. If not, well, best he learns it now, before he has to learn a lesson taught with steel.

[Toliudar]

Malfrin

The squire draws his short sword, the blade gleaming reddish in the light of the salle, and nods to the massive minotaur.

Sir Samson, I'd be honoured. I'll, uh...do my best.

Owyn's already sizing up Big Fuzzy as a threat. Probably aiming to teach me more by leaving me to one of the other two. Maybe I can use that.

Malfrin steps over close, but not too close, to the mighty minotaur. In marked contrast to the cool-headed Northerner, his eyes have already started darting around the room, looking at the floor, the other sparring couples, even the ceiling. Trying to take it all in before the mock-combat begins. As the others gather, he drops into a very low fighting stance. And waits.

[Varen_Tai]

Sparring is different than real combat. Holding back even a little can alter the course of the fight, and in this case, it favored the minotaur and the squire. Quickly working out a combined fighting style where the bull-man swung large and wide keeping the others at a distance, while the much smaller squire stayed right up against the larger creature and jabbing at anyone who came close, the two of them successfully fought off the other three.

Later, while laughing over the bruises, Owyn commented that had he really been fighting, his slice across the back of Samson’s legs in an unguarded moment would have hamstrung him, while the minotaur’s swings did a good job of simulating the actual damage his greatsword would cause. He snorted in agreement, and pointed out as well that Manar’s strike to his ally’s head would have killed him outright or at least spun him to the ground, making the ground dangerous to walk on. “Blood is quite slippery,” Aleksei agreed.

But Owyn did not give Malfrin much time to rest. True to his promise, he set him to drills that left the young man drenched in sweat and utterly exhausted, though Owyn did everything his squire did and more, leaving him almost as tired as his young charge. Then, to drive the point home, he sat with him and taught him that a paladin, even when tired, must always give his devotions to his god, and they spent thirty minutes in prayer and meditation.

All said, it was a long evening and a tiring one. Rayvon joined them for dinner and seemed amused at the tiredness of the others. He talked about his explorations of the city and told them about a spot he always fished in every time he came here. “If you have trouble finding me around here, odds are good I’ll be there,” he said, and then described the location of the little private spot he had discovered.

After dinner, Rayvon left again, and the rest performed their evening prayers and collapsed into bed.

Manar stayed up later than the rest, finishing her letter and then thinking about her assignment. She had no idea when exactly she had drifted off to sleep, but the candle had burned out sometime after her eyes had closed, so when the pounding came on her door, she leapt up and barked her shin on the little table by her bed. Trying to shake off the sleep and fighting the pain at the same time, she rubbed her leg while muttering, “Hang on, hang on.” Fumbling in the dark, she finally found her tinderbox and lit a lamp. She looked down and realized she had fallen asleep in her clothes, so she opened her door to see the same messenger, also seemingly just woken up.

Apologetically, he said, “Lady Ryanelle, the last arrival will be here shortly at the west gate.”

“What time is it?” she asked as she rubbed her eyes.

“The crier just called 2 in the morning not five minutes ago.” He winced in sympathy, and then stumbled back to his own quarters on the other side of the temple. She hastily shut the door, threw on her blues, and raced, half limping, to the west gate. Once there, she sat quietly, rubbing her leg and being tempted to heal the minor pain herself despite Florian’s instructions that her holy power was not for personal comfort. Aside from the guards, her sleepy eyes could not see any other person, but after a few minutes, a splashing noise inside the temple caught her attention.

Oh, no – did changing my clothes let whoever it was slip inside before I could catch them? Fearing the answer was yes, she limped back inside to the courtyard and looked towards the noise. One of the four fountains in the dark corners of the temple courtyard was occupied. This was an unusual enough figure that she knew immediately that her delay in her room had created a rather awkward situation.

There was a naked man in the fountain.

[Glikker]

The Lady Favored of the Light walked with her due sense of purpose toward the fountain. The man - slight of build, dark of color and somewhat shorter than average for this part of Toril - stood with his back to her. He was bent down, washing himself in the fountain. Just as she was about to say something, he spun around, a crossbow held at arm's length and aimed directly at her head. He stood with a grim look on his face for a full two heartbeats. The look changed briefly to confusion and... dissapointment? before he obviously recognized the impropriety of the situation.

He quickly put down the weapon and picked up a piece of white cloth from the edge of the fountain. Placing the cloth, apparently some sort of headdress, on his bald head, he quickly hopped out of the fountain.

With his head properly covered and more at ease, he bowed deeply, and in a heavily accented Common, said, "I plead my sorrow. It was desirable to wash the dust of many roads before giving my report." Turning, the man began picking up his clothes. "If it please the lord of this house, I will dress a moment." The man placed a robe on his shoulders, bracers on his wrists, and quickly laced up some sandals. Then he gathered a shoulder-slug bag, and a belt with a sword, mace and a number of other attachments hanging on it. He placed the crossbow in a holster on a bandolier over his left shoulder and the bag over his right.

Finally, decked out in all his gear, he turned back to the woman and bowed again, quite deeply, "May it please the Lord of the Dead, the Lord of the Morning and the lord of this house, Amun Natsur comes as called."

Amun remains fully bowed until spoken to.

[Ravyn]

In the time between the crossbow being raised and lowered, Manar instinctively reaches for her sword and then realizes she doesn't have it; after that, the threat gone, it takes her another half minute to recollect enough of her wits to gasp out "....what do you think you're doing?!" This is the next guest?! No, wait, Manar, calm yourself....

She takes another few deep breaths, watching the newcomer carefully. All right, easy does it.... thank the gods he got dressed while I was still in reasonable shock, or this would be utterly.... no, let's not even go there. "Here, let's take this from the top. What's your name? Is there a reason why you arrived so late? And did anyone ever teach you not to point loaded crossbows at people in temples who just want to check the fountains?" Though the first two questions are in her usual greeting tone, a more than a mild hint of anger creeps into the last one.

[Glikker]

Amun is taken aback by the anger. "If my behavior offends, then I beg your forgiveness. At this hour, any activity but those of the guards is suspicious, and a guard would have announced himself at a greater distance." He appeared to have no shame in his actions at all, but shows guarded confusion.

"As I have said," he begins, bowing again, "I am called Amun Natsur, humble servant of Osiris, Lord of the Dead, Keeper of the Sacred Rivers, Guardian of the Lost Soul. I am come many months to this land and this house upon an errand of my Lord's choosing. Though I do not know the reason, I am come with all haste. I found that I could reach this city before morning and therefore abandoned rest for this night to complete my journey all the sooner."

Amun pauses, not quite sure how to continue. "May it please my Lord and yours, I am here now and prepared for further instructions."

[Ravyn]

Manar sighs. "Granted, but by the same token, most people ask permission before taking a bath in the fountain. The last time few times I found fountain-bathers in the middle of the night, they were newly-Tapped acolytes who sprinted off before I could get their names, so I'm inclined to walk first and ask questions later." And I'm pretty sure it was always the same one, but I could never prove it.... heh, this is either going to be highly entertaining or highly irritating. Probably both. Florian would love it.... then again, Florian would also be reminding me to do what I take other people to task for not doing and stop being such a stick in front of the guest. She regains her usual cheerful demeanor, albeit with a certain amount of effort, and continues, "Pleased to meet you. I am Manar Ryanelle, Lathander's Order of the Dawn's Cleansing Light, and I have been assigned to guide you around the temple until such time as someone explains why so many paladins are being asked to congregate here. For now, let's get you inside and find you a room, hm?"

[Glikker]

Amun's face showed unmasked surprise at hearing Manar's title. It slowly changed to the now familiar mixture of confusion and disappointment.

"I... expected..." he began, but paused, tugging briefly on the narrow, braided-and-wrapped beard on his chin. "It is of no weight. Please show the way. I am grateful for the kindness of this house."

[Ravyn]

Manar raises an eyebrow. "If I am not meeting expectations, I would like to know why."

Perfect opening. Here's hoping he isn't about to say what I think he's about to say.... He probably is, though. This will definitely be interesting--do I want to know what's going to happen when he meets Samson?

[Glikker]

"I beg forgiveness, but the ways of the West are still new to me. I am sure that my manners are as unexpected to you."

Amun pauses for several seconds, thinking. "The traditions of my people... Women..." Pausing again, he lowers his head, showing honest embarrasment.

After a few moments, he appears to gain confidence, knowing what to say. "Again, I beg your understanding. I wish no disrespect to you or your order. These are new situations for me and I wish to learn of the ways of the West. It is true I did not expect to be met by a woman, and women are almost unknown in the clergy of my home.

"I have acted as I am accustomed, but I see now that I am not being slighted, but merely introduced to new cultures." Amun bows again toward the Lady Ryanelle, "I hope, in the interest of friendship, that you will help me learn."