Cat Crosses the... Uh... the-?(Attn: Roan)

[Cat]

Johan

“Ugh,” Johan muttered, raising one hand to his head as he slowly eased himself up from under the covers. He winced as the sudden brightness stung his eyes, shutting them immediately and falling back down on his bed. The covers soon found themselves back over his head and he rolled over, ready to let his breathing even out once more in sleep. He didn’t have anything to do today, at least not for a few hours, and-

-and…

“Light!”

Recollection came tumbling back, then, as he suddenly sat bolt upright, throwing the covers aside. His head spun, but he ignored it. He did have something to do today. Today was a special day. Today was the day he met up with the Mistress of Arms.

For the last few days, he had been at the Citadel, learning what being at such a place entailed; the duties, the tasks, and all the things that came with being so close to the Blight. It had been exciting and exhilarating, and a dozen other things besides. Half of that, he thought, was because he was away from the Grey Tower. Being in the same place for so long had threatened to make him crazy. Being here, it was like the world had suddenly been born anew. Or, rather, he wasn’t as bored as he normally was and wasn’t having to stare at the same walls day after day after day.

But, yes, the Mistress of Arms. She was here to check on him and possibly teach him a few more forms with the sword. He didn’t want to think about how nervous that made him, because nerves were something he never wanted to admit, but he was terrified. And now he was going to be late. Brilliant!

He all but tumbled from the bed, cursing under his breath, tripping as he tried to find his feet. His clothes went on in record time, and he quickly pushed a hand through his hair, flattening it and deciding that that would do for now, before he buckled on his sword, threw on his boots, and all but ran out the door, making his way to the courtyard. Steps got skipped, things got jumped over, and, in his haste, he almost crashed into one of the other Ji’val, but he soon found himself in the courtyard, breathing a little heavily as he skidded to halt.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly said, the words almost tripping over themselves, his native Rahad accent coming out thicker than it normally did. “I lost track of the time…”

He could have made an excuse, said he was wrestling with a Trolloc, fighting with a Myrddraal, but sometimes honesty was the best policy, and any lie he told would probably be caught out.

“I really am sorry…”

[Roan]

Riahana Ferria, Mistress of Arms

“Keep the elbow up,” Ria called out to the Ji’Val who were practicing sword forms, moving from one to another as she critiques them. She wasn’t there to train them, but to work with one of their peers, but Ji’Val Johan Albear was late. Not exceptionally late, though the Mistress of Arms was not used to being kept waiting. “That’s it. The Kingfisher Watches the Sky takes some getting used to, but it is an effective defensive stance. Now, next form.”

Ria heard someone approaching in quite a hurry, but didn’t take her eyes off the pair in front of her until they moved from Kingfisher Watches the Sky to Black Pebbles on Snow. Before she could offer critique, the person who skidded to a halt spoke, “I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”

At this point Ria turned her head slightly to look at the newcomer, her left brow arched ever so slightly. For the Mistress of Arms, the arched brow was about as characteristic as a certain Drin’s smirk. She didn’t say anything to him at first, but instead looked to the other two. “Carry on. Kirran can offer tips if you find yourselves struggling.”

Turning on her heal, Ria walked away from the pair, and looked over her shoulder to Johan, “Well? You going to keep me waiting even longer?” The man went slightly wide-eyed and jogged to fall in step with her. She did her best not to look amused. Her title tended to bring a certain level of intimidation, and while deep down, Riahana Ferria was a woman with a warm heart, it didn’t hurt that the learning ranks were a bit intimidated by her. She wasn’t a cuddly bear, after all.

The pair left the main courtyard, and before long, stepped into a smaller, more isolated court yard that had a small, sand filled arena. It was where she trained with Malina when working on her unarmed, but it provided the pair of them a bit more privacy. Finally, Ria turned to face him, her cool eyes giving little away. “I know you are no novice with swords, or with fighting. From speaking with the Master of Training, I also know you and I have two very different styles of swordplay.

“I am not such an elitist as to think my way is the only way, though I know from experience that understanding sword forms, and knowing them inside and out can give you an advantage to those who are simply in it to hack and slash. The aim for this little session is to see where you are, give you the basics, and see if you can incorporate a little of what I do into what you do. Sound fair?”

[Cat]

Johan

Johan glanced around him, unable to stop himself from checking over their surroundings. It was always something he had done, especially when it came to enclosed spaces like this. Old habits, he supposed, died hard, but you never knew when you might need to escape. It was better to have a plan, some kind of an escape route, rather than find yourself suddenly stuck. If it never happened, was never used, it made him feel safer. Oh, this wasn’t the streets of the Rahad, but you could never be too cautious. The world was unpredictable, especially this close to the Blight.

All this happened in seconds, and, plan made, he looked back at the Mistress of Arms, wondering if he would have to employ it before the training finished. He certainly felt ready to bolt, and he straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and drew in a deep breath, forcing himself to be calm and not show any signs of what he was feeling. It was just that he hated being singled out, being made the sole focus, but then it had happened to him dozens of times since coming to the Tower, and he had coped and he had done it. This time was, theoretically, no different. The fact that she was the Mistress of Arms didn’t make it suddenly harder.

Or it shouldn’t.

Her words, though, made him raise his eyebrows, and before he could stop himself he blurted out, “I don’t hack and slash,” the offence clear in his voice.

He didn’t know the forms, true, or their fancy-schmancy up their own arse names, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any form or thought to his own style. There were moves he repeated, “forms” he relied upon, but they just weren’t called things like “Kissing the Toad” or “Fart on the Breeze.” If he had to name them, he’d call them “Saves Lives” or “Stops my Head getting Chopped off.”

But then he froze, realising what he said, and his cheeks coloured ever so slightly as he dipped his head in apology. “I’m sorry. I… Yes… That’s fine. Sure."

[Roan]

Riahana Ferria, Mistress of Arms

Ria’s lips twitched when Johan exclaimed he did not hack and slash. He wouldn’t have been the first she’d offended with the term ‘hack and slash,’ nor would he be the last. Perhaps she was an elitist after all?

The Mistress of Arms studied Johan carefully as he seemed to pull in his emotions and offered up an apology. “Perhaps the apology is premature, Ji’val. One of my tasks is to get a sense of your current skill level. The other task is to help you improve upon what skill you already have. I learned the sword through its forms, and I have found over the years that it is the only way I can best impart my knowledge. There have been others like you who didn’t know forms. Many thought they were useless. Most of them I could dump on their arse without exerting much effort, even if they had a size advantage.”

Some might think Riahana bragging, but she presented what she said as simple fact. She was not known as a braggart. “Certain forms allow you to engage in combat without hesitation, often giving you the upper hand, or element of surprise. Other forms allow you to use your opponent’s momentum against them. You may find some of the moves you now use have names, and thus you are not so green to the forms as you might think.”

Ria took three strides away from Johan and turned to face him, “The forms can also be used to intimidate.” She then began circling him, letting the Void settle over her as she entered The Cat Crossing the Courtyard, “If you can intimidate your opponent before you even draw your sword, so much the better, no? The best offence is to avoid the fight all together, and how you carry yourself can sometimes be enough to dissuade a would be opponent. The Cat Crossing the Courtyard is meant to convey confidence, if not arrogance. Your job is to observe everything as you walk, arms loose at your side, ready to draw your sword if need be, but there should be nothing hurried in your walk.”

When she’d come full circle, Ria stopped in front of Johan a few strides away, “Sometimes, simply drawing your sword can be enough to turn away would be attackers.” Without hesitating, she Unfolded the Fan, and in one fluid and arcing motion, her sword came free from its sheath.

“It is also where our lesson starts, and as foolish as it might seem, it is a move that can be built on, allowing you to draw and attack without hesitation,” Ria explained then nodded to him. “Your turn, but watch as I demonstrate again more slowly.” She Folded the Fan, hesitated a moment, then went through the arcing motion of Unfolding the Fan in slow motion. When she was done, she nodded at him, indicating it was his turn.

Spoiler: show

I am sure Johan will hate the exercise. Sorry...not sorry. Ria has her reasons. I promise it won't all be drawing and sheathing the sword.

[Cat]

Johan

This was, quite literally, the most…the most pointless thing he had ever done.

Johan stared, not quite believing what he was seeing and hearing. It was only through sheer force of will that he stopped himself from gaping, managing somehow instead to keep his face perfectly blank. There was a small part of him that wanted to laugh. He felt like he’d just arrived, unable to use the sword. Just because he didn’t know the names of the forms, he wanted to say, didn’t mean that he didn’t know any forms at all.

His eyebrows rose with every word. He didn’t think they were useless. He preferred to be more fluid, more organic, more adaptable and unpredictable in his fighting, and he also didn’t want to have to learn countless names. Having to think of things like how he needed to move into “The Boar Rushes Down for a Shit” or “The Creeper Embraces the Girl” instead of simply thinking about countering and attacking would only, he was sure, make him stutter and falter. For all he knew, he did already know the forms but simply didn’t have the idiotic names for them. They’d still stay nameless if he did. He wasn’t going to be some jumped up noble spouting about how wonderful he was because he knew about how to do “The Courtier Tapping his Man”.

The insinuation that he didn’t already know how to engage in combat without hesitation, gain the upper hand or element of surprise, or even how to walk, made his annoyance flare, and he stamped down on his feelings, the only sign the slight tightening of his grip on the handle of his sword. It was like how nobles didn’t think the common people could fight because they didn’t have gilded swords or axes encrusted with rubies. If you wanted to avoid a fight you either got the bloody hell out of there, or you hit and killed them before they managed to get you. Prancing and strutting about like a peacock wasn’t going to get you anywhere, other than make your opponents laugh so hard they couldn’t fight, but he made himself watch. Ours not to reason why, but to do… because he was already bloody doing it in the first place without having to pretend to be a bloody stupid cat.

And he knew how to draw his sword. He was fairly sure that he’d have been long since dead, or, at least, suitably kicked out of the Tower if he couldn’t pull the sword out of its sheath without getting it all caught and tangled up.

He drew in deep breath, trying to summon what little patience he had, and Unfolded the Great Big Sword that Looked Nothing Like a Fan in one fluid and arcing motion. He didn’t bother trying to do it slowly, as she had demonstrated, but did it fast, at speed, how it would be done in a fight. He wondered if he should add in a swirl or a twirl, a couple of prances maybe, but he suppressed the thought, knowing that it was just his annoyance speaking.

He made himself smile, keeping his voice utterly polite. “Like this?”

[Roan]

Riahana Ferria, Mistress of Arms

The Mistress of Arms had too many years under her belt not to pick up on the subtle signs of frustration and annoyance. Inwardly, she smiled, but outwardly she showed very little emotion. Everything she said or did within the lesson was done with purpose. She was indeed testing him, not just to get a sense of his skill level, but also to get a sense of what kind of fighter he was.

Riahana was one who embraced the Void, preferring clarity of mind to drive her over emotions when she was in the thick of a fight. Not all were like her, though, and she knew many preferred to let their emotions drive their actions in battle. Both philosophies had their pros and cons, but for Ria to adequately train Gaidin, Ji’Val or Drin’far’ji with swords, she needed to know what drove them.

The man before her, Johan Albaer Drin’far’ji, was driven by emotion. In some ways, he reminded her of Dax given his own reluctance to learn sword forms until she showed him where the benefits might work to his advantage.

Johan Unfolded the Fan without hesitation, and his form was. . .acceptable. He could improve his finesse, but she wasn’t about to split hairs. . .yet.

With a slight incline of her head, Ria replied, “Good. Now. . .sheath your sword again. As I mentioned, we’ll build on that move with our next one. The move is called The Swallow Rides the Air and it is meant to allow you to intercept an attacker as they are moving to engage someone else. Your advantages are your speed, focus and hones skill with your blade. Watch.”

Putting distance between them once more, Ria launched herself into The Swallow Rides the Air, drawing her sword in one fluid motion as she intercepted an imaginary attacker, blocking an unseen blade with her own. When the motion was done, she turned her cool gaze to the Ji’Val, “Your turn.”

[Cat]

Johan

You didn’t need forms when you had common sense. If you knew the basics of how to fight, then you could add two and two together to figure out how to intercept a fighter. Easy. It was just adding to what you knew, working up from a foundation. You certainly didn’t need the fancy names for it, especially when people didn’t often follow set rules themselves.

People were unpredictable, and that meant fights were, too. Sword forms, to Johan, were the very opposite, and that was why they would never work for him. They were predictable, rigid, and unmoving, focused on getting it exactly right. They were order whilst Johan preferred chaos. If the opponent chose to lash out with a foot, was there a form for that, or did you just let yourself rely on instinct and muscle memory? What did it matter if it wasn’t the correct form if it still got the job done?

From what he had heard, Riahana Gaidin also favoured the Void. Maybe that’s why the forms worked for her. There was a certain level of detachment, coolness, that Johan knew he’d never be capable of experiencing. He didn’t want to. It was emotions that helped him fight; they were the reason he was here. Thoughts of his family were what made him fight faster, harder, stronger, for far longer than he’d do if he had nothing to care about. They kept him going. Take that away, embrace the Void, and there was nothing.

This was just pointless.

He knew how to intercept a fighter. He knew how he’d alter it if things changed. The forms seemed a one size fits all kind of thing. If he was facing an opponent, he thought, he wouldn’t bother with just blocking the blade. He’d be straight in there, sod the bloody swallow riding, in and under their guard and knocking them out by smashing the pommel of his sword in their face and downing them as fast as he could. He couldn’t imagine anyone surviving for long in the Rahad if they relied on forms, not when people where throwing pots and pans at you.

But The Swallow Rides the Air… la de da de da.

He bit back on his annoyance once again, drew a breath, and threw all his frustration into the move as he drew his sword and intercepted the attacker with one fluid move.

As soon as he’d done it, he’d lowered his sword and just shook his head. This wasn’t for him. If they were going to go through all the forms, his patience was going to start wearing thin very, very quickly, and he wasn’t sure he trusted what he’d do then.

“I know how to do all this,” he said. “I don’t do it exactly the same, no, but it doesn’t mean I’m wrong or the way I do it is inferior or needs improving. It works for me. And I… I’m never going to choose to use forms.”

[Roan]

Riahana Ferria Mistress of Arms

And there it was. Johan ‘knew how to do all of this,’ and the forms weren’t for him. His way was just fine, thank you very much, and he didn’t need her help. The young man before her reminded her of another who had a similar attitude. That particular man was now a Gaidin with herons tattooed on his wrists. That particular man insisted dirty fighting was superior because it gave the element of surprise, and then Ria dumped him on his arse more than once, using nothing but the forms, but also informed her student that dirty fighting could be used alongside the forms. . .that the two didn’t have to be mutually exclusive.

Ria arched a brow and tilted her head slightly, “Your way is wrong and you need to improve if you make a mistake and it gets you injured or killed.” She thought she saw his nostrils flare and knew his anger was likely near the surface, “In the time I’ve been a part of the Yards, not once have I told any learning rank to give up a style that works for them, but what I have done is ask each and every one of them to keep an open mind.

“You are not the first to come to the Yards so cock-sure of himself and his abilities to scoff at what I’ve tried to teach, and you won’t be the last. You probably think that using elements around you to give you an advantage, and dirty fighting are superior to the sword forms. You likely think I’ll tell you such methods show a fighter without honor, and you would be wrong,” Ria spoke, placing the tip of her sword on the ground and resting both hands on the pommel.

There was no malice in her words, and she was soft-spoken. One corner of her lips went up slightly, “There is a misconception that the sword forms are for the Elites as a way to make them seem superior to those who don’t have titles or lands to their names, but in truth, the sword forms are a way to help us remember useful sets of moves. It is easier for me to tell you ‘Black Pebbles on Snow’ than for me to break down every single element of the move.

“I admit, the names can be a lot for anyone to take in. Truth be told? Before I earned the Fancloak, I had no clue what most of the sword forms were called, much less what they were. I grew up on a horse farm. . .what use were the forms for me? I found, though, when I was trying to learn or teach, the forms made it much easier to make sure everyone was speaking the same language,” Ria hesitated a moment.

“One thing I am absolutely sure of. . .if you remain open minded about the forms, I can help you incorporate them into your current style of fighting, and you will see improvement. You may think you are just fine as you are, but everyone. . .even me. . .has room to learn.”

[Cat]

Johan

Yes, Johan thought, trying to keep his face blank because learning the basics all over again was really what he needed to do again. It was nothing to do with being cock-sure of himself or his abilities, but rather the fact that if the forms were so important, why was he only learning them now? Why not before? The idea that he, or at least someone thought, that he was doing it all wrong rankled. It couldn’t not annoy him. He spent most of his time practicing and learning that he didn’t want to hear that, oh look, there was a much better way.

It wasn’t just that, though; he was sure he knew the forms, was vaguely familiar with them, but apparently not knowing the names meant that he wasn’t as good, that he had to remember them, stick to them, not shift from them, when trying to remember the exact way and names would only make him stutter?

He drew in a breath, biting back on his frustration and resentment. It wasn’t her he was annoyed at. At least he didn’t think it was. Maybe a little. Well, that bit didn’t matter! He needed to stop. Even if he didn’t know what, exactly, he was annoyed at, he knew that it was enough for him to be lashing out, and that was going to get him nowhere. What happened to wanting to make a good impression? What happened to trying as hard as he could? Maybe that was it: he was trying, but it didn’t seem like it was being recognised. It really wasn’t much fun being taught how to unsheathe a sword. It was almost… insulting, in a way. Sometimes it was better to learn out in the field. He’d find out soon enough what was the best and fastest way. Being thrown into training yards and told all these names he didn’t recognise was too overwhelming.

He gripped his sword tighter, still struggling to control his annoyance. It would be so much easier if he didn’t have to learn the bloody stupid forms, and it was tempting to just walk away, but he very rarely gave up on something he’d started. That was a sign of weakness, and he wasn’t weak.

“Telling me ‘Black Pebbles on Snow’,” Shit on the Snow, he corrected, because it made him feel better. “Telling me that isn’t going to make it easier for me. I… I struggle with words. The words won’t… don’t connect with what you’re asking for. It’s not going to come straight to my mind. I’m going struggle and stumble, and then I’ll be dead. That’s why the forms aren’t going to work.” He shrugged. He felt like he was tripping over the words to explain. “Teach me them without the names, and I’ll remember them, but give them names and that’s where everything falls apart.”

[Roan]

Riahana Ferria Gaidin

And so there it was. Trouble with words. Did it mean he couldn’t read? Ria wasn’t sure, nor was she willing to speculate. What mattered then and there was how to not only assess his ability, but then help him improve? Did he even want to improve?

Understanding the root of his frustrations was important for Ria if she hoped to actually impart some knowledge. Was it only frustration she was picking up from him, or was there resentment as well? It mattered in that patience was a trait she expected from her Gaidin. She sheathed her Heron-marked sword and moved to a weapons rack that held wooden lathes. “Put the steel away,” she ordered as she took two practice lathes.

Once Johan’s sword was sheathed, she tossed a practice blade to him before she settled into a simple middle-guard stance. “I need to know what your level of skill is if I’m to help you improve. If you’re not satisfied with the approach I’ve taken thus far, and we can’t speak the same language, then you’ll need to show me.

“So. . .show me. Do not hold back. I need to see you at your best to properly assess you,” she said. There was no hint of emotion in her tone, or on her face as she let the Void wrap around her. Her hawk-like gaze studied him as she waited for him to make his move.