Author's Note: Dear readers, is this a good place for my infravision vs darkvision rant? Well, I'm not actually going to rant, since I'm an engineer and I totally believe that darkvision makes more sense in many, many ways. (But I've used infrared thermography and it's pretty nifty.) Solaufein, being a 2E guy, more stuffy and traditional than he'd like to admit, says if infravision was good enough for Drizzt, it's good enough for him.
Also. A poll. Does Valen have human feet, clawed feet or hooves? I was hoping to find out this chapter but someone (not naming names, Solaufein) wimped out on me. If you have an opinion, pop it in the comments!
12...Sparring for Position
Solaufein paced the training ground and waited for Haer'Dalis to get ready to spar. He had come at the restless tiefling's suggestion and already wondered if this was a mistake in the making. Apparently, this was to be no simple exercise session.
Solaufein had been favorably impressed by Commander Imloth, the refreshingly sensible leader that the Seer had brought from her colony on the surface. Now he had doubts. Imloth and Haer'Dalis had put their heads together and decided to turn this workout into a show. To boost morale, they said.
Solaufein had no false modesty; he knew he and Haer'Dalis were very good at what they did. Fighting. But from what he'd heard, Valen was a superb warrior. Surely it's optimistic to think two more good warriors will turn the tide of battle. Or boost morale, for that matter.
Optimism seemed to be an Eilistraeen trait.
Still, much could be learned on the training ground. This was not so different from his work in Ust Natha as the leader of the Male Fighters Society. There he had braided together men from different Houses and classes, as well as the slaves and mercenaries that were nominally under his command. (Only until some priestess had a use for them, alas.) His role had been to maximize their diverse strengths while ensuring that no particular House appeared over-favored or over-burdened.
He had been rather good at the job. He didn't fully understand the challenges here yet but it was already clear that Lith My'athar must be handled far differently than Ust Natha.
Valen should have helped him with this task but the outsider was dismally unsuitable. Valen's idea of compromise was to bang together the heads of any dissidents until their complaints were silenced. Such behavior won him a certain amount of fear and respect from the males but could never be effective with the matron mothers now so uneasily allied.
The morale in the camp could certainly use a boost. A doom indeed hung over this last fragile haven of freedom from the Valsharess and even the kobold could see it. The followers of Eilistraee clung to the hope that their Seer offered but the others, the refugees from the Valsharess' earlier conquests, stood in defiant despair.
Valen seemed blind to the problems that seethed under the surface. Lacking subtlety himself, he didn't see the dangers that swirled around the edgy camp. Valen was no fool but in fairness, no outsider could be expected to penetrate the intricacies of drow society. Valen should have been using Nathyrra as his aide de camp but they seemed to be rivals instead. He suspected Valen's distrust of Nathyrra was as deep as his distrust of Solaufein himself.
"The draa velve," was the murmur around the ring as Haer'Dalis stepped forward with a blunted training sword in each hand. He had set aside his beautiful chain shirt in favor of a light padded vest like Solaufein wore. Commander Imloth grinned in anticipation and, in fact, there was a general stir of interest amongst the spectators. It certainly took bravado for an outsider to use the draa velve style, which many drow practiced but few could master.
Haer'Dalis never, ever ran short on bravado.
Most of the practice swords were rapiers and the shorter blades favored by drow warriors but Solaufein had unearthed a longer and heavier sword, closer to the scimitar that he preferred. Solaufein had, of course, sparred with Haer'Dalis countless times but they both knew that this was to be their first real introduction to the troops and thus would be a display of both skill and confidence. Haer'Dalis preened before his audience and graced Solaufein with a flamboyant bow. Valen, who stood next to Commander Imloth, said something to the drow.
Solaufein did not care for the sour smirk on Valen's face one little bit.
It felt good to warm and stretch his muscles. There was at once the comfort of fighting a known opponent and the challenge of facing the tiefling's extraordinary agility and inventiveness. And although they had fought often, both in practice and for real, there was a wild unpredictability to Haer'Dalis that defied complacency.
Haer'Dalis was quite a bit taller but that was offset somewhat by the longer reach of Solaufein's weapon. They gave and received several shrewd blows until Imloth, with a laugh, declared the match a draw. All in all, Solaufein felt they had given an interesting demonstration of two opposing styles, his unusual strength against the tiefling's unusual dexterity and indeed, there were thoughtful exchanges of sign language amongst some of the onlookers.
"Oh, was this a contest?" Haer'Dalis asked, playing to his audience. "I thought we were warming up. Had I known, my raven, I would not have settled for a draw."
"Then I thank you, abbil, for your forbearance," Solaufein said. From the corner of his eye, he saw hand signals flying around the ring. Good. We have your attention.
Imloth was eager to pit himself against the tiefling's draa velve. Solaufein gladly yielded the ring to him and stood back to watch. In addition to the male fighters who had come to observe their leaders in action, several drow females drifted over.
"This surfacer is quite exotic," one female said. "Perhaps I should avail myself of a closer look later." The other females laughed. It's never good to hear a drow female laugh, Solaufein thought and wondered if he should remind Haer'Dalis of the sexual customs of drow society. Knowing the tiefling, he suspected this was unnecessary. Like the surface creature called the cat, Haer'Dalis always emerged from his nocturnal prowling satisfied and relatively unscathed.
Matches continued throughout the cycle, including several group fights. Haer'Dalis and Solaufein sparred against four of Imloth's elite fighters, in another demonstration in how well their very different styles could work together. It was a hard-fought match and there was another flutter of hand sign when the two of them won. Commander Imloth looked quietly pleased.
Word had spread throughout the camp and others drifted in until the training ground was packed with spectators and hopeful participants. Even Matron Mother Myrune had joined the crowd. The Seer had formally introduced Solaufein to the matron mother of House Maeviir but they hadn't spoken more than a few polite words. She kept herself secluded within her well-defended house walls and this was the first time he'd seen her out in public.
He'd also been introduced to her weapon master, Tebimar. Tebimar was handsome, as expected for a male in his position, but his hair was graying with age and his eyes were wary. All drow were wary but it was rather gauche to let it show. He gave Solaufein a hard, unfriendly stare. The matron mother tapped his shoulder and whispered something in his ear. With a scowl and another hard stare, Tebimar signalled a challenge. His sign language was curt and bordered on the discourteous. Like that, is it? Solaufein politely signalled acceptance.
Tebimar was very tall for a drow male, even taller than Solaufein. There was human blood in his ancestry, perhaps. Not that he would likely wish to admit to such a thing. The weapon master strode into the ring and gave Solaufein a haughty look. The audience was silent and intent. Hand signals flowed.
"Favor the z'ress a'thalak style, do you?" Tebimar asked. Solaufein gave a small nod to this statement of the glaringly obvious. "You follow Selvetarm, do you?" Solaufein stared. Selvetarm may be the god of warriors but he was practically enslaved to Lolth. Was Tebimar fool enough to ask this as a serious question? When Solaufein was openly allied with the Seer? Or was this some less-than-subtle insult?
Do I even respond? Instead of speaking, he showed Tebimar his medallion.
"Aye. They say you're Eilistraee's Chosen." He gave a dismissive snort.
Solaufein already knew that most drow considered Eilistraeens weak, for his goddess valued song and beauty, kindness and peace. Most drow assumed Eilistraeens were too busy dancing in the moonlight to attend to reality. Are you planning to show the camp how weak I am? Are you planning to put me in my place?
Were you somehow unaware that Eilistraee is also the goddess of swordwork?
Tebimar rummaged through the practice weapons until he found a longsword, a match to Solaufein's weapon. He hefted it for balance with a sour smile. Going to beat me at my own style, are you? Not subtle at all, in fact, rather stupid. Do you actually think no one has noticed that you waited until I'd been sparring for hours while you are still fresh?
Solaufein wanted to smile. He kept his face still and guileless.
I think I'm going to enjoy this.
In a very short time, Solaufein realized that although Tebimar was impressively strong and might consider himself a master of the z'ress a'thalak, the drow was vastly mistaken. Have you been fighting boys all your long years or have your men been flattering you? Solaufein had used the force of war style in countless actual wars both in the Underdark and on the surface. And although there was always more to learn, he wasn't likely to learn much from this over-confident fool.
How best to take him down? Something flashy, I think. They exchanged several blows and then Solaufein stepped inside his guard, caught him in a wrestler's hold and flung Tebimar hard to the ground. He knocked the wind out of him. While Tebimar gasped for breath, Solaufein put his boot on his wrist and shifted his weight until the weapon master's sword hand twitched open. Imloth, eyes dancing, called the match immediately. There was a flutter of derisive hand signals from the audience. Not a popular fellow, it seems.
To add a pinch of salt to the wound, Solaufein courteously offered him a hand up in a surfacer gesture that Tebimar rejected violently. The fool openly showed his anger and chagrin. Solaufein kept his expression carefully neutral but he laughed inside. He glanced across the ring to check the matron mother's reaction.
Good victory, she signaled, plain for all to see and causing another stir through the crowd. Her expression was thoughtful.
Tebimar's defeat had brought many of the spectators to a festive mood and the next bouts were met with shouts of encouragement. Just as Solaufein thought it was time to bring the event to a close, a voice rang out over the crowd.
"I have yet to see our general, Valen Shadowbreath, enter the ring," Matron Mother Myrune said, her voice pitched to carry.
Valen gave her a startled look and then his brows drew down. "This play-fighting is not much to my taste," he said.
"Play-fighting? I thought this was a training exercise. Is there nothing you can learn from any other here?"
"I did not say that, Matron Mother."
"Not in words," Myrune purred. "But come now, even if you can learn little from us, surely we can learn much from you? I would dearly love to see how your prowess compares to that of Eilistraee's Chosen. Will you not favor us with a match against Solaufein?"
"No. I do not think it wise. I hit too hard, even with those toys you play with." Valen half-turned away. Obedient to the matron mother's look, several in the crowd called out their support for the match. In moments, shouts rose like battle cries.
"To fight is not a game to me," Valen said, raising his voice over the crowd. Solaufein had been ready to let it go until he heard those words, spoken in a tone of contempt. He walked toward the rail where Valen stood beside Haer'Dalis. They were speaking softly in Common.
"Come now, Valen, you make too much of this," Haer'Dalis said. "'Tis no more than sparring practice, after all."
Valen lowered his voice. "It is always more than that with these drow. It is always a contest where one must win and another lose. And they all keep score. I tire of these games. Besides, he's already been fighting for hours and look at him. His head doesn't come to my shoulder."
"Bigger isn't better," Deekin said. At Valen's look, he squeaked. "Not all the time!"
Solaufein stopped before Valen. Did he think I couldn't hear him? Does he think I'll swallow his insults? "Shall we?" he asked.
"Another time, perhaps," Valen said. "I'm not dressed for sparring and I doubt any of your drow gear would fit me."
"Oh, I imagine we can find a way to even things up," Solaufein said.
Valen snorted and turned to Haer'Dalis. "Does he have a strength belt? An enlargement spell? That would help."
He had spoken in rapid Common and Solaufein wasn't sure he understood him. Does he imply I'm hiding a strength belt under my clothes? In a sparring match? He glowered at the tiefling and in sudden decision, handed his practice sword to Haer'Dalis.
"Let us fight then in nothing but the gear that nature provides," he said. He unlaced the ties that held his leather vest and dropped it on the ground. Off came his shirt next.
"What the hells?" Valen said. Solaufein gave a grin that wouldn't have been out of place on a sahuagin. One of the females in the audience gave a hooting cry of encouragement. "What is he doing?" Valen asked. "Is he taking his clothes off? Why is he taking his clothes off?"
Solaufein handed his medallion to Haer'Dalis for safekeeping and dropped his shirt. His smooth hairless chest tapered to a slim waist. He was more heavily muscled than most elves, even other warriors. His black skin was marred by the puckered scars of bolts and arrows and the longer slashes from blades and claws.
"I believe he means to even the contest, since you don't have gear," Haer'Dalis said. His eyes crinkled in amusement.
"Hey! That's enough," Valen said. Solaufein's hands were busy with the ties to his breeches. It wasn't rage that reddened the tiefling's skin but embarrassment, Solaufein realized with a bit of amused wonderment. His emotions show to both normal eyes and infravision. What does it feel like to blush? Looks like a sunburn. Does it hurt?
"But I would not want you to think I conceal any magical enhancements," Solaufein said. "My natural enhancements are good enough, I hope. Come now. You wish a fair fight; let us have one."
"I am not going to fight naked!" Valen said. In a lower voice, he added, "There are women here! Have you no shame?"
Solaufein grinned. "Ask the females what they'd prefer."
"To be naked is no shame for an elf," Haer'Dalis added.
"Well, I'm not an elf! I am not stripping in front of all these people." Leaning towards Haer'Dalis, he whispered, "They already think I'm a freak."
"Ah," Haer'Dalis said. He put a hand on Solaufein's shoulder. "Hold a moment," he said in his ear. "Think."
"What?" Solaufein asked. His mind was already on the match. Valen is massive. They say he is strong. But is he quick? How does he fight without that flail he always carries? How was he trained? What does he know of wrestling, of dirty fighting? He couldn't wait to find out.
"Do you plan to humiliate all your allies today?" Haer'Dalis whispered. His words broke into Solaufein's thoughts like a bucket of ice water.
Is that what I'm doing? Hells take me, that is exactly what I'm doing. Is this how I plan to earn respect? I treated House Maeviir's weapon master with contempt and now I'm going to try to do the same to the Seer's general? In front of his own troops? Eilistraee, forgive me!
How do I back out of this without seeming more of a fool?
"Perhaps you are right," Solaufein said slowly, while he tried to gather his wits. "Another time might be better."
Valen brushed this peace offering aside. "Of course I'm right," he said brusquely. "Imloth! Send the men back to their duties." He walked off, tail jerking with impatience.
There were hisses of disappointment from the crowd-not many, but a few. Solaufein bent to retrieve his shirt and shot Haer'Dalis an exasperated look. The tiefling's eyes narrowed in warning and Solaufein heard soft steps behind him. He turned.
Matron Mother Myrune approached alone. There was no sign of Tebimar and her other attendants stood back, ostensibly out of earshot. Her dress was a dark shade of purple and it clung to her curves as she moved towards him. Strands of silver glinted in her hair, which fell to her shoulders but was restrained by an intricate webbing of knots and braids. Her eyes were as shrewd and as hard as any matron mother but her lips, full and sensuous, smiled.
Solaufein's heart sank. The only thing worse than a drow female's laugh was a drow female's smile.
draa velve-two weapon fighting style, requiring ambidexterity and great skill to be effective. (Yes, Drizzt, we all love you but draa velve with two scimitars? Hmm. Lesser mortals might struggle with that. Although Haer'Dalis oozes hubris and is definitely ambidextrous, heh heh, he prefers two shortswords, being a pretty practical guy and not liking massive penalties.)
z'ress a'thalak-force of war, a fighting style based on strength. When you cut through one enemy and cleave the next with the same stroke, that's pretty badass. Especially when it happens on purpose. I think Valen himself uses this style, or something close to it.
