Setther's Tests

The morning was dull, foggy, and rainy. Yet Peerha and a hundred other Men and Women stood and waited in the bad conditions for Setther to arrive. The man arrived with two horse drawn carriages, both loaded with supplies and weapons.

"All right. Good to see you! First thing's first." Setther started, standing up on a crate. The crowd gathered around him, but Peerha stayed underneath the tree he was leaning against. "Every army has got to have order and formations. First thing I wanna do is figure out what skills you have, and what weapons you're best with."

"At least he has some sense about him." Peerha smirked.

Setther passed around an assortment of bows to the crowd, and then each person got a single arrow. Peerha stayed put. He knew he was no good with ranged weapons, so there was no point in participating. He did however observe closely. Each arrow had been flitted with a different color. Further more, Setther had everyone assemble in rows of 10, ten people per row, to form exactly one hundred archers. A handful of people, Peerha counted seven, stood off to the side.

"So only One-Hundred and Seven of us are going to take on the Black Hand? Piss poor odds."

"Ok then. When I say ready, get ready to shoot down the apples I throw into the air. I've colored each arrow's feather differently, so you'll know if you hit or missed. If you hit an apple, I want you to wait over there," Setther pointed to a large clump of trees. "If you miss, then you'll have to wait for a different test. Now then. Ready!"

The archers quickly knocked arrows to string, then pulled them back in anticipation of their targets. Setther waited a long moment. Peerha recognized that he was testing their stamina. One of the Archers lost his grip and accidentally fired his arrow. "HOLD!" Only three of the archers obeyed the command. The rest fired their arrows wildly, getting confused over nothing. "Now, FIRE!"

Setther tossed ten apples into the air. The three remaining archers fired. Peerha watch as a Black feathered arrow sailed past the first nine, but struck the tenth, and went on to imbed itself in a tree. The other two arrows missed by inches.

"Right then. You know where to go."

Heads held low, the archers that missed marched off to a muddy patch of ground. The lone archer that hit his mark walked off to the clump of trees. Peerha hoped to death that none of the others were this bad. They weren't. Of the next group, only two failed. Of the group after that, none failed. In the end, Fifty-four people stood under the clump of trees.

"Good! You lot will be the Archers, obviously. These three crates here, engraved with a bow and arrow, are you're supplies. You'll find Bows in this one," Setther opened the lid. "arrows in this one," he opened the lid. "and enchanted arrows in here." He left it closed. "Now come and get what you need."

As the selected Archers grabbed their supplies, Setther began opening yet more crates. Peerha looked hard, but from his point of view, he could see anything. He'd have to join the crowd. Once he got to the very back, Setther had finished, and was now addressing them again.

"Right, since none of you can use a bow, you'll be infantry. I don't know what weapons you're best with, so I've got an assortment of every style. Come and get them. Then form groups according to you're weapon. The crowd moved, Peerha stayed put. He had his Enchanted Longsword at his side already. Setther walked off to an empty and particularly muddy spot of ground. He waited there and watched as his troops milled about. So did Peerha.

Twenty of the soldiers grabbed a Broadsword, and about half of that number wielded halberds. Peerha noted that several characters held Claymores and battle axes, while another handful carried nothing but daggers. "Healers," Peerha thought. "we'll need them."

"Ok good. Now that you have your weapon of choice, I want each of you to pick a partner and start fighting. Not to kill. But to land a blow, preferably with the broadside, or a scratch at worst. And don't be all slow and cautious about it. Let it rip. The more you actually fight, the better you'll become. After awhile, I'll be picking some of you at random to fight with me. Now then. Get to it."

"Man, I don't even know how to fight." someone moaned.

Peerha turned to find a young man of eighteen looking at his sword as if it was something alien and strange. Apparently, to him, it was. Peerha stepped to him.

"Then why are you here?" he asked.

"Revenge. Who isn't?" the man answered.

"The point of revenge is to actuallyavenge something. You will fail."

"And how, oh great one, did you come to that conclusion?"

"Because getting killed is not how it works."

The man lost his temper at this remark. With a roar he grabbed his blade, and swung heavily at Peerha's head. Peerha ducked and stepped back once. The man pursued and attacked violently, slashing twice at Peerha, but only hitting air.

"There is no point in attacking someone who will not fight back. They will only retreat, forcing you to over exert yourself, waste your energy, and thus win the battle. If you want to win, then let them come to you."

-------------------------------------------

"Good!" Peerha was tired, and so was Tactus, the young Imperial he'd picked a fight with. The two had been dueling for over an hour. Tactus had poured his heart and soul into fighting him. Peerha could have of course beaten the man in less than ten seconds, but then how would Tactus hone his skills? Instead Peerha had merely blocked and dodged, even taunted him until he truly began fighting. Peerha had sensed a warrior within him. It only had to be brought out a little bit.

"Good." Peerha repeated. He rubbed the flesh wound on his arm, the only blow Tactus had managed to land. "Fight like this, with your heart and guts, and you'll get your revenge."

Many people had watched as Peerha fought and trained the young Tactus. They were quite impressed, 1.) being the fact that a legend like Peerha Meroe was even here at all, and 2.) being that he was doing a better job at teaching than Setther was. The look upon the Nord's face when he discovered this was not one of joy.

"You there!" the Nord shouted. All heads turned around to acknowledge the man. "I challenge you to a duel. First to draw blood is the victor!"

The crowd oohed and ahhed, and whispers of bets buzzed through the damp and stormy air. Peerha looked the man straight in the eyes, waiting a long while before replying. Here was Peerha's answer:

"If this is a test of dominance over one another, then I'm afraid I deny your challenge." Peerha turned and started walking away. He also added, "Besides, I don't want to embarrass you in front of everyone."

A dull ringing noise sounded from somewhere behind the Imperial. Peerha stopped, hand on his Longsword. He knew what that sound was. On either side of him, bystanders scattered widely and nervously away from both future combatants.

"Why don't you tell it to my face?" Setther growled.

Peerha wheeled around, and he saw that Setther was holding a very large Battle-Ax in his hands. Peerha smirked.

"You heard me."