The stink of sweaty bodies mingled with the grunts and heavy breathing of the soldiers as they sparred in the fort courtyard. The clash of wooden weapons, used for training, as they tended to result in fewer trips to the healers, sounded off the walls and buildings of the fort. Back and forth between the practicing soldiers walked Sergeant Horn, watching the bouts. Occasionally he interrupted the fighters to inform them of a mistake in their form or tactics, impress upon them their extreme incompetence and general idiocy for making the mistake in the first place, and then proceed to explain to them how they might avoid repeating the idiotic mistake in the future. The soldier's were dressed in their armor, which for most of them consisted of a suit of mail and a helm of iron or brass.
In one corner Markham sparred in his leather armor, the difference setting him apart as one of the fort's scouts. His opponent, one of the soldiers of the fort garrison, worked furiously to slip his practice sword past the ranger's guard.
With a growl the man came at Markham with his shield, trying to tie up the scout's sword so that his own could slip under his guard for a strike on his leg or thigh. Recognizing the ploy Markham quickly sidestepped toward his opponent's right side, parrying the soldier's sword away from him as he twisted on his heel to bring his elbow into his opponents back. With a string of curses the soldier went stumbling past him and towards the waiting lecture with Sergeant Horn. Markham took the moment to glance to his left where Scratch was sparring with an enormous brute of a man by the name of Brent.
At just over six feet tall and only shy of Scratch by maybe twenty pounds the big man was the biggest human fighter in the garrison. The two behemoths circled each other warily. Finally with a yell Brent came at the slith with his shield and practice sword flashing. Scratch met his charge with a long wooden spear, wielding it with surprising quickness to parry the big man's strikes. As Brent came in for another stab Scratch flicked the sword upward with his spear then twisted the haft under the man's legs and sent him sprawling. Seeing Markham watching him Scratch opened his mouth to show an impressive collection of razor sharp teeth.
"You know nobody knows your trying to smile when you do that," Markham told him dryly. "To most people it's just… creepy."
"Who ssaysss I'm sssmiling?" Scratch said, keeping his teeth on display. "Maybe I'm jussst thinking about how good you'd be sssmothered in gravy."
"Creeper."
"Appetizer," Scratch flicked his forked tongue out teasingly.
"Why are we friends again?"
The big slith made a show of pondering the question before replying.
"Bad tassste?"
"Hey snake!" Brent had regained his feet and stood eyeing the Slith threateningly. Markham noticed several of the big man's friends standing behind him with similar glares directed toward Scratch. " I don't think that move was kosher. Fact is I think you cheated and me and my friends think you should apologize for being a slippery piece of shit. While you're at it maybe you should apologize for pretending a snake like you deserves to be a soldier in the country your kind tried to wipe out." Behind him a growing group of maybe a half dozen soldiers muttered in agreement. Around the group all the other fighters had stopped sparring for the moment and were watching the confrontation with interest, including Sergeant Horn.
Scratch hissed angrily before visibly taking control of himself. "I'm not looking for a fight man thing," he grunted finally. "Don't turn a practice match into sssomething more… nassty."
"Scratch won the bout fairly Brent," Markham cut in as he moved to stand beside his friend. "And his people had nothing to do with the Slith War so why don't you and your misinformed friends shove off and save it for a real enemy."
"No one asked you lizard lover!" Brent spat angrily. "In fact I'm sick and tired of your fraternizing…" he paused, likely to consider whether he'd used the big word correctly, before continuing, "… with the snakes. Don't even have the good sense to side with your own race." His "misinformed friends" muttered angrily in agreement.
"Isss there trouble here?" another slith hissed as he stepped to the other side of Scratch to face Brent and his lackeys. The newcomer, slightly smaller than Scratch, stood at just over six feet though he was still well muscled. Like Scratch he wore a rough leather vest and a long leather loincloth decorated with a few skulls in a style common to the Slitherkai of Gnass. Also like Scratch, he carried a wooden practice spear, though his was several feet shorter and in the other hand he held a wooden shield reinforced with bands of brass.
Scratch nodded to the newcomer in greeting. "Ssseth-Thrss, the big one and hisss friendss don't ssseem to care for Sslitherkai."
Ssseth-Thrss nodded knowingly. "Another man thing that can't sssee friend from foe. Hello Markham, getting into trouble on our account again I sssee."
"Afternoon Seth. Bad habits die hard I guess." Markham turned and eyed Sergeant Horn with a resigned look. "Just going to let this happen Sergeant? Doesn't exactly inspire confidence in the brothers-in-arms philosophy."
Horns eyes narrowed dangerously, which tugged a scar over his right eye in a way that made the look even more threatening. "You telling me how to run my outfit boy? One of these days somebody's gonna stick a blade in that smart ass mouth of yours if it keeps coming open all the time." Horn's eye darted to something on the other side of Markham and the ranger whipped around, bringing his practice sword up defensively.
Brent had used the momentary distraction to take a swing and Markham's practice sword intercepted his in what had been a collision course for his head. With a cacophony of yells and insults his friends came rushing at the ranger and the two sliths with practice weapons swinging, eight of them in all.
Two, including the big Brent, made a beeline for Markham and he found himself parrying furiously to fend off the duo. Beside him, Seth and Scratch found themselves similarly beset by the rest of Brent's hooligans. Seth caught a practice blade in the gut and fell back a step before snarling in anger and launching a one-two combo that ended with the rim of his shield putting one of his attackers on the ground howling and clutching at his broken nose. The reprieve was short lived though. Two of the man's mates immediately came up to take his place.
Scratch worked his spear furiously. Twisting it expertly to fend of the strikes of the remaining three attackers. Their superior numbers, however, began to show and he was being pushed further and further back. Finally, with a loud roar that startled his assailants and even the rest of the soldier's who were watching, he bull rushed two of his attackers. The sudden movement took them by surprise and they were both thrown several feet by the enraged slith. Using the momentary advantage Scratch whipped around and launched a series of fast thrusts with his practice spear at the third attacker. One slipped past the man's guard and into his armored gut with bone cracking force. The man grunted as the air rushed out of his lungs and he fell to his hands and knees gasping for breath. As Scratch turned to face his other two attackers, who were regaining their feet and eyeing the big slith with murder in their eyes, he brought his muscular tail down on the back of the gasping man's head which sent it shooting down to meet the dirt of the courtyard. After that the man stayed where he was. Not dead, but definitely out of the fight.
Meanwhile, Markham continued to narrowly avoid catching a practice sword or shield to the face. Dodging and parrying he bided his time, waiting for an opening. Finally, seeing a hard thrust coming from Brent's companion he quickly stepped back, parrying the strike so that the force of the man's momentum made him stumble forward. The ranger used the man's sudden imbalance to bring his left fist, which was uncovered as the scout had removed the reinforced gauntlet for practice, into the man's jaw with the dull sound of bone on meat. He then shoved the stunned man into the lunging Brent and the two went down in a tangled mess of limbs and armor.
Brent was quick to toss his companion, who was rubbing at his bruised face, off of him and with a yell rushed at Markham. He only got a few steps, however, when an armored man, one of his erstwhile companions, went flying into him from the side sending them both crashing once more into the dirt. This time neither got up, instead choosing to remain on the ground moaning softly.
Markham looked to the side and saw Scratch standing over two unconscious men The big slith was panting from the effort of using an armored man as a missile. Beyond him Seth brought his short spear around in a heavy swing to slap his last attacker on the side of the head and the man went down in a heap.
The three companions stood breathing heavily from the fierce fight, which had only lasted a few minutes. Around them men grumbled in disappointment or triumph and here and there money changed hands. Markham turned his gaze on Sergeant Horn, who had watched the entire fight with a calculating expression.
"You done letting your dogs run wild Horn? Or do you want some yourself?" the ranger snapped angrily.
Horn's eyes narrowed at the remark and his hand twitched toward his sword pommel. He stopped himself though and grinned menacingly. "Maybe later pup… Someone needs to teach you a lesson about insubordination though… and I think I know just the woman."
Before Markham could work the word "woman" around in his mind Horn turned to a figure in the group of watching soldiers and said loudly, "Dannica! Step forward!"
A woman stepped out of the crowd. She had light brown skin and was wearing a suit of fine chain mail, not standard army issue. She was in her mid twenties and looked like she didn't have an ounce of fat under the mail. She wore her dark hair in a bun and Markham might have found her pretty if she didn't move with a deadly grace that immediately sent alarms ringing in his head. She eyed Markham like someone might eye a rebellious dog. "What can I do for you Sergeant?" her voice was feminine but harsh.
"I think you and the scout would make for a good bout. If you would be so kind." Horn seemed unable to hide a grin on his scarred face. Markham glanced between the two. Women soldiers were uncommon in the army but not unheard of, though he didn't understand the Sergeant's attitude toward her. Horn was infamous for his harsh treatment of his soldiers but he treated this woman almost with something that might be almost construed as respect.
She never took her eyes off Markham, sizing him up. "It would be my honor Sergeant," she replied finally and hefted her practice weapons, a sword and a club, with a flourish before stepping inside the circle of soldiers.
Scratch and Seth took a step forward but were stopped short by a barked, "Stay put lizards," from Horn. They paused and eyed the Sergeant angrily before turning their gaze toward Markham.
"Stay back. This is my fight," the ranger said softly to them. They stayed where they were but continued to glare at Horn. Markham eyed the woman standing before him warily and paused to wipe the sweat from his hands.
Horn, satisfied, turned and motioned to some of the surrounding soldiers. "Get these incompetents out of the way." The soldier's hurriedly collected up Brent and his comrades and moved the battered bunch to the side. Turning his attention back to Markham and Dannica he barked, "Begin!"
The two combatants circled each other for a moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Suddenly Markham came in quickly, his sword coming at the woman in a high strike. Dannica's reaction was immediate and lightning fast. She parried with her own sword and then came on with a vicious assault with both weapons, seeking to end the fight quickly with her sudden assault. Markham found himself parrying her two weapons desperately as she forced him backward. Seeing her sword darting in toward his chest he parried with his wooden blade and darted to the side letting the rushing woman pass him.
He didn't have as much as an advantage as he'd hoped. She recovered quickly, spinning on one foot and bringing the other whipping around in a high kick to his chest that sent him reeling backward coughing. She didn't press the attack however. Smiling in confident satisfaction she flourished her weapons and once again began circling the ranger.
Markham circled with her, this time waiting for her to make the opening strike. He didn't have long to wait. She came on with both weapons darting in a graceful dance. He backed up slowly, parrying defensively and attempting no offensive strikes of his own. Finally he saw the opening he'd been waiting for as her left hand shot in with the club for a jab at his thigh. With his sword he parried the weapon downward, knocking the club even lower. He then stepped forward, ducking the woman's sword as it came flashing toward his head from the other side and stomped down on the club with his right foot while bringing his sword forward in a jab aimed at her abdomen.
Seeing the blow coming Dannica released her grip on the club and slid to the side bringing her knee up in a vicious blow that connected with his jaw. He felt a sharp pain and stumbled back, stunned. This time though Dannica did take advantage of his shock and stepped in, quickly bringing her knee up into his stomach and as he fell to his knees, gasping for breath, she brought the practice sword down, stopping just before the wooden blade connected with the spluttering ranger's neck.
"Do you yield?" she demanded of the red-faced man. Still trying to regain his breath he looked up at her incredulously a moment before croaking a reply.
"Yes I yield damnit."
The wooden sword left his neck and she spun around and walked back to collect her dropped club. More muttering and some laughter came from the watching soldiers and more money changed hands. Some just watched Dannica as she walked away, dumfounded by the woman's display of martial prowess.
The sharp sound of someone applauding echoed out from the shadows in a corner of the courtyard and another woman stepped into view, causing the soldiers watching the fight to shift in surprise, straightening armor and hiding their winnings.
The woman moved forward confidently, wearing her meticulously shined plate armor with ease. She was in her late thirties with a shock of long red hair held up in a long pony tail and two fine looking sabers strapped to her back. She stepped up beside Horn and eyed Markham, Scratch, and Dannica each in turn with a calculating expression. Dannica returned her gaze steadily before nodding her head in respect. Markham straightened, assisted by Scratch who hauled him to his feet and supported him. They both did their best to come to the position of attention. Markham tried to keep the searing pain in his jaw from showing.
"These are the ones you mentioned?" the woman inquired of Horn without taking her eyes off them.
"Yes Captain," the man replied, a self-satisfied smirk appearing on his scarred face.
"I see," Captain Cecile Vidican commented, still sizing the three up. "Yes I suppose they'll have to do," she finally assented. With that Fort Ganrick's commanding officer turned on her heel and strode back toward her office. As she went she glanced back toward Horn. "I trust you can take care of these rabble rousers Sergeant," she called calmly before disappearing into her office.
Sergeant Horn turned his attention back to the soldiers in the courtyard, all mirth gone from his expression. "Sparring's done for today! All of you grab some chow and see to your weapons and armor. It's another busy day tomorrow." A chorus of groans and murmurs of "Yes Sergeant" came from the assembled soldiers and they began filing out of the courtyard to recuperate in preparation for tomorrows torment. Horn watched them for a moment before turning his gaze to Brent and his compatriots.
"You lot! Front and center!"
Even the unconscious ones had started to come to by this point and the wrath in the sergeant's voice inspired instant obedience. The battered group struggled and supported each other until they were standing in something raggedly resembling attention in front of the grim faced Horn.
"After your scratches are seen to you'll all clean up for an extra watch tonight. Dismissed!"
The news was met with muttered cursing mixed with a chorus of "Yes Sergeant" along with no small amount of spiteful glares in the direction of Markham and his two Slith companions as the battered group turned and made their way towards the infirmary. Horn turned to the still waiting Markham, Dannica, and the two Sliths.
"You," he said gesturing toward Seth, "You'll be joining them tonight on watch." Seth's mouth opened to protest before Horn cut him off. "Give me attitude about it too snake and it'll be two watches! And if I hear about any shenanigans on duty it'll be your scaly hide."
Seth glared at Horn hatefully before turning and stalking off toward the barracks. Markham and Scratch watched him go with angst and no small amount of bitterness at their friend's ill treatment.
"You know Brent and his lot will probably try something," Markham growled at Horn angrily, then winced at the pain the talking caused his jaw.
Horn eyed him with a gleam of satisfaction in his eye. "We'll see," was all he said, and then he smirked. "I told you somebody was gonna get that smart mouth of yours pup. Just glad I was around to see it." Markham glared back at the man silently, not wanting to agitate the pain in his jaw just to earn himself even more extra duty than he suspected he was to receive already.
"What is it that you told the Captain about us Sergeant," Dannica spoke up for the first time since the fight had ended, her voice curious and slightly demanding.
"That's between me and her," Horn replied. "In any case you three are to report to her office an hour before evening chow. She has a job that needs doing and you're the ones what's going to get it done." With that he nodded to Dannica. "Priestess. If you would be so kind, see to your victim," and then he added dryly, "Then see to theirs."
"Priestess! You're a damn priestess?" Markham blurted in shock. Scratch's eyes widened, similarly surprised, and they both eyed the woman with a grudging respect.
Dannica opened her mouth with a retort but Horn answered for her. "That's right runts. Dannica is a priestess of the Order of Prevailing Righteousness. One of the oldest sects of battle-priests in Avernum." He grinned wickedly at Markham before adding, "Her talents are unending, including teaching insolent little sucks their place." And with that he turned and made his way towards his quarters, chuckling as he went.
Dannica turned and looked at Markham and Scratch with disdain. They eyed her warily in turn. Finally she stepped up and examined the ranger's jaw closely.
"Hold still," she said in a voice that was obviously accustomed to obedience. Markham started to grunt a retort but she took hold of his jaw firmly. "That includes talking lizard lover," she snapped sharply. Markham eyed her with hostility at the remark. Scratch's eyes narrowed and he hissed softly. She ignored them both however.
Satisfied with her examination she cupped Markham's jaw with both hands and closed her eyes, chanting softly. Markham felt a warmth in his face and a moment later she opened her eyes and removed her hands. He worked his jaw with his hand, noting with surprise that the pain was gone and everything was in its proper place. He eyed Dannica wryly. "Priestess," he said in acknowledgement of her work, not willing to give the woman the satisfaction of anything else.
She eyed him coldly before replying tersely, "I do my duty." With that she turned her gaze briefly toward Scratch and, if possible, her expression became even colder. Then she turned and, discarding her practice weapons on a rack, made her way toward the infirmary without offering her services to the big slith.
The two friends watched her go. "It'sss okay I'm fine," Scratch called scornfully. The slith glanced at the ranger and remarked, "Ssshe's a pleassant one."
Markham rubbed his jaw and replied ruefully, "Yeah, a little ball of joy."
"Isss sshe pretty?"
Markham gave the Slith a confused look then glanced back at the departing priestess, "I suppose if your into the whole stuck up bigoted bitch thing. Where did that come from?"
"Jussst curiouss," Scratch replied thoughtfully, "What do you think the Captain will sssay?"
"Hell if I know. Probably send us to clear out the rats behind the fort again," Markham said finally, though he doubted it. There had been something in Horn's tone that he didn't like. Deciding there was nothing he could do about it he shook his head and turned back toward his friend.
"Well, nothing for it. Let's get some chow while we can."
"Yesss. I'm ssstarving."
"I'll probably lose my appetite watching you stuff your fat face but let's do it."
"I'll be thinking of you the whole time. Mmmm… sssmothered in gravy and onionsss."
Markham laughed and together the two headed in the direction of the mess hall.