• Solo • Learning of Crushes

Andras garners the attention of Margery the Monster.

The capital city of the of Rynmere, here is seated the only King in Idalos.
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Andráska Venora
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"My two natures had memory in common."
  • 13th of Zi'da, 716
  • “Your stance is your most important thing. If your stance is off, you won't be as fast, your off balance, and you can't move as fast or hit as hard. All these advanced techniques? Nothing without proper form. Understood?” The female knight prowled among the formation of men, each waiting and listening. Her hair was pulled back and pressed tightly against her skull, emphasizing the strength of her jaw and large eyes. While not the most stunning woman to look at, she could make you see stars. All you had to do was catch her right hand.

    She continued her demonstration, “The best analogy I ever heard was to stand like you're waiting for a carrage ride,” she relaxed, taking the pose with her hands clasped in front of her, “Feet, shoulder width apart. If you're right handed, you step back with your right foot. This is called orthodox. Left handed – same for you. You step back with your left foot. This is called south paw, and then - you want to bring your hands up, like this,” The instructor, Margery Eason created two loose fists, “Thumbs go on the outside and you want to hit with your two main knuckles, anyone know why?”

    Her eyes scanned her audience, before resting on Andraska, who surprisingly was paying quite a bit of attention, “Venora. Why do we hit with our main knuckles and not the other two?”

    Andráska hesitated, glancing at his own hands. He was assuming she meant the ring finger and the pinky when she educated them, “They....” he flexed his hand and the delicate fingers so accustomed to pressing strings and occasionally punching other men, “Break easier?”

    “Exactly,” Margery strolled towards him, her confidence gripping him just as much as her hands when she took his arm and pulled it up for everyone to see, “When you punch, we want to hit with these two big knuckles,” her hands roamed down his torso and stopped at his waist, the contact causing the noble to tense.

    “Feet, we want to twist them forty five degrees,” Her hand patted his outer thigh and she pointed downwards. Andraska was quick to comply and adjust his footwork, a slight uncomfortable feeling creeping into his stomach, “Then,” Margery said, looking out among the other knights with a straight expression, “Your back foot, whether you use orthodox or south paw, should almost always be lifted at the heel. Otherwise you'll waste time trying to lift it when you should be striking, understood?”

    The woman lowered herself before him, one of her hands cupping his raised heel, which he lifted, the other arriving on his inner thigh to steady herself, but her fingers were firm, if a little eager to give his muscle a little squeeze. His eyes widened and he thought he heard one of the fellow knights snort in an effort to mask a laugh, but it was quickly forgotten when the women straightened up and began moving on through the line up, continuing her demonstrations.

    “Alright,” Marg said, clapping her hands together as if she hadn't just been using them to secretly grope a soldier, “We're gonna pair up, and practice.”

    Andráska looked over and another man a few years older than him silently accepted the invitation. He meandered over, the two nodded, and took their positions across each other. His name was Garald, if he remembered correctly, and soon both knights were taking their stance. Andraska: Orthodox, Garald: Southpaw. They were mirrors of one another (well, if you looked past the fact that Garald was shorter and had a scar that trailed down from his right brow to his lip). The two began to spar, using the lesson as a guideline, and constructively pointing out the errors of the other. It was a good way to make friends, Andráska realized, each laughing or commenting lightly on the others inability to fight. It was just talk, of course, both skilled enough in their fighting ability. The atmosphere was light, and András, who so commonly disliked training found himself having a good time, that is... until he allowed his heel to fall and Garald swung. Just as Margery had said, he was unable to get out fast enough, and the blow socked him in the jaw. It wasn't fully forced, but it surprised him and he flinched, “Good job-” András began to compliment, rotating the pain in his face.

    “What's happened here?” Like a dog smelling blood, the booted footsteps of their trainer came bumbling over in haste, Margery's eyes wide with dissatisfaction written all over her features. Her fists were clenched, and she looked at Garald as if he had hit her instead, “What have you done?”

    Andras, who was usually fairly oblivious to body language, quickly understood the woman's. She was tense, her shoulders square and challenging. She was angry... It was clear to him that she wanted to sock his partner in the face for an unknown infraction, and quickly he stepped forward, stepping between the two, not quite sure why, “Woah, Margery, it's okay,” she turned her dark eyes on him, a frown still deeply pressed into her full cheeks, and he held up his hands amiably, “I'm fine. Look, see?” he leaned forward, displaying his face and lifting his chin, peering at her from the corner of his green eyes, “Not even a mark, no loose teeth. I'm not bleeding. It was just a simple blow. It was my fault, really. I didn't take your advice, ya know, about the heel.”

    She crossed her arms, and reluctantly nodded. It had been uncalled for – unprofessional – to act in the manner she had. To pair people up for a spar and then get mad when one of them got hit? How did that make any sense? Andras didn't understand any of it, but when he smiled at her, she relaxed and took a step back, “Very well. Mind me next time.”

    “Of course,” András purred with promise, “Every day. I'll take notes if I have to.” He flashed a wink, and a he thought he saw a dusting of pink coat her cheeks before she cleared her throat and stormed away.

    When he turned to Garald, the look on his partner's face was both amused and astounded. He had to ask, “What?”

    “What do you mean, 'what'? You're jesting, right?” the other knight looked up, motioning towards the trainer's fading back, “Marg the Monster has it bad for you. You seriously haven't noticed?”

    Now, it was Andráska's turn to be shocked, “No she doesn't,” the feeling of her hand on his thigh burned in his mind, followed by her reaction to him getting hurt, “I mean...” Suddenly, the noble wasn't so sure, “She... was just...”

    “About to kill me for hitting you? She was afraid her pretty boy wouldn't be so pretty. How are you so daft about this?” Garald took his stance across from the noble, amused. He was more careful when he hit, more distracted by conversation that sparring now, “I'm gonna tell ya one thing,” he lifted a hand and tapped the scar on his face, “Say what you want about me. Not every girl will give me the time of day, but sometimes,” he grinned, “That's a damn good thing.”

    ---

    Sparring didn't take too long before the group was slowing down and Margery was continuing her next lesson. This time, it took a different tone, with her telling the men to relax, “Taking care of your body is essential,” she lectured, “For strength, one must not only gain muscle, but lose fat...” At this, she eyed a particularly chubby recruit, “How does one do this?”
    Andráska crossed his arms, interested and lightly covered in sweat. She specifically picked on the heavy set guy she had been looking at, and he struggled with the response. “Uhh...”

    He was happy it wasn't him this time, but noticed how not once did Margery touch him. Surely she had laid hands on him for demonstration purposes, right? Her voice carried over the group, “Food has something called calories,” she had a tone as if she were talking to idiots, “Calories are units that measure energy,” Something about her lesson rang a bell, perhaps in his health class growing up? Andraska tried to imagine the little calories, what they looked like, “Depending on your height, weight, and exercise, you need to eat so many to thrive. If you eat more calories than you burn, you gain weight.

    Someone raised their hand, “Uh, so if you burn more calories than you eat, you...lose weight?”

    The logic behind it all seemed quite simple and Andráska's was tempted to roll his eyes, but realized that not everyone had the same sort of education he did, with his stuffy tutors, and reprimanded himself for being so arrogant. This was a good lesson, but his stomach growled and he wondered how many he was to eat at lunch.

    “To build muscle specifically, you should also eat protein. This is mostly found in meat and eggs. A balanced diet is ideal, understood?... Good. Now, lean forward and try to touch your toes. We're going to stretch.”

    The did five different stretches. Some for the legs and groin, others for arms and shoulders. By the end of it, the noble realized how inflexible he was, and grunted in exertion, muscles warm and rubbery. By the faces of the other men, he hadn't been the only one to have struggled, and when the captain finally came and dismissed them, nearly everyone was ready to be free of the little torture session.

    Andras was gathering his things and finishing up a quick chat with some coworkers when the sound of someone clearing their voice behind him caused him to turn. The other knights waved and walked away, leaving Andráska face to face with no other than the face of Margery Eason.

    “Hey,” he said, unsure how he was supposed to address her, “I learned a lot today.”

    “Yes,” she began, eyes flickering to the ground and then settling on his face. She looked nervous but straightened her spine, saying, “I would like to take you to dinner. Do you accept?”

    Uh-oh.

    Andráska hesitated, this being the first time a woman had ever asked him out and his mind blanked. A panic rose up within him, never having been forced to turn anyone down before, but he remembered how she had responded when she thought he had been hurt. While her face was straight, his eyes lowered and noticed the fidgeting of her fingers. They were rubbing a spot into the hem of her armor, and he didn't know what to say.

    “You refuse,” she said, lowering her eyes and her mouth setting into a steep line. Disappointment hung heavy around her, her aura shifting. And in the moment, Andráska Venora, handsome knight and noble born felt guilty and flattered. Unable to bring himself to crush her, he desperately tried to find the words.

    “No, I mean-”

    “You hesitated.” her true observation made him that much more determined to defend himself. But what was he to say? I don't think you're pretty?

    “I've just never been asked out by a girl before!”

    Margery seemed skeptical, but her face had softened to hopeful, “So... you will go to dinner with me?”

    Uhh..... Andras looked to her face, to the splotchy patches on her cheeks and bushy brows. Her teeth were a bit crooked, but her hygiene was good and she took care of her body. She was just strong, a bit broad, and had a reputation of being able to break men twice her size. Not the type he usually went for, or honestly that went for him. He remembered how Garald had used her nickname – Margery the Monster and chewed his lip in thought.

    His answer came out as a sigh, a submission, “O-okay.”

    An expression of joy so profound flashed on her face, Andras felt both guilty for agreeing and a bit happy to have caused it. She beamed, slapped him on the shoulder with such force, he feared it would bruise and bounded off, “I'll come for you, six o'clock!” she promised, her large feet propelling her off.

    Left standing alone, Andráska Venora realized what he had done. He groaned, threw his head back and a hand slid down his face. He had a date.
word count: 2153
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Andráska Venora


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Story: 5/5
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Structure: 5/5
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Awarded Knowledge

Combat: Footwork
Combat: Position and Stance
Combat Position: Shoulder Width Apart
Combat Position: Vital to Speed, Balance and Power
Footwork: Orthodox and South Paw
Nutrition: Fat Versus Muscle
Nutrition: Food Has Calories
Nutrition: Protein is Found in Meat and Eggs
Romance: Asked Out by a Woman
Unarmed Combat: Use Main Knuckles

Extras
Loot & Losses [/color]xxxxxx Injuries
None [/color]xxxxxx None
Fame [/color]xxxxxx Devotion
None [/color]xxxxxx None
[/color]




Comments


Very nice thread... lessons and a date and everything! Well done Andras! :D


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