Share
Small victories, large problems
Without waiting for his friend's hand to fully drop, Littume lunged forward intending to end the duel quickly as he always did. They traded just a few quick blows, in those exchanges Boro learned everything he needed to win. Boro took a step and half spun to his left, avoiding a stab and followed it up with a quick slash using Plowing The Wheat to his exposed body. The young lord dropped his rapier and fell to the cobbled stone road. Boro's strike had left a shallow gash across Littume's finely embroidered shirt and chest. Blood slowly began to soak into the silk of the shirt, spreading over it, ruining it forever. It was the quickest duel Boro had ever been in.
So much for this Blade Master, Thought Boro, as he smiled internally.
Littume held his bleeding chest, wailing like an infant. His friends ran to him, one lifting him from the ground and carryi
Related chapters
Sword Dancer A Lords Request
A few hours later Boro found himself waiting in a large room of his own in the Lords mansion. His things, and Dingir too, had been brought over to the mansion. Boro had been bathed and bandaged after being brought up from the dungeon. A doctor had inspected all of Boro's injuries and chided him for his impetuous actions. Luckily the doctor only felt a single broken rib, and two re-fractured ribs, the ones that he had gotten from his duel with Mika the previous week had mostly fully recovered before this event, and said that Boro would just need several weeks, to a whole months time for it to heal fully. If not for the excruciating pain he felt every time his chest expanded he would have laughed heartily at that. The last week, and more then likely the weeks to come as well, would leave him very little room for proper rest and relaxation. Boro needed to move quickly or else he risked Tutijas' trail running cold.
Sword Dancer Matters of the Heart
Boro sat in front of the Lord of Helfa, his mind reeling. This minor lord dared to plot rebellion against the King of Galaos. He had even go so far as to ask this young blade master, who's father had died fighting under the banner of the man Jetir was plotting against. He dared to have the audacity to ask him, HIM, the son of Bora The Bold. For a moment rage filled him, but as soon as he felt it, he snuffed it out. "I know this is no easy thing to ask, so I will let you think on it." Lord Jetir said in a solemn tone, and called in for one of the guards outside his door. "Sir Donall, please escort Master Boro back to his rooms" Turning back to Boro, he added, "I shall call on you tomorrow" And with that dismissed Boro. The meeting had not taken long, as such Boro had the entire day free to him. Although Lord Jetir
Sword Dancer Sins of the Father
The next day Boro spent the morning sleeping off the drink from the night. When he woke, mid-morning, he readied himself for his second meeting with Lord Jetir. His time at the Golden Goose last night had kept him from thinking too hard about the Lords offer but now he thought it through. He held much animosity to the King for what he had done to Boro's family. He had often day dreamed of confronting the King when he was a child, challenging him to a duel for the throne and killing him and restoring his families name. But as he grew older those dreams he recognized for what they were, the foolish dreams of a young, angry boy. Now this man had offered him a path to making that dream a reality. Would he really pass it up? Boro spent his time waiting for the summons thinking this through, viewing the issue from every angle. In the end, when the knock at his door came and the guard entered announcing the summ
Sword Dancer New Goals
Hearing Lord Jetir's words struck a huge mental blow to Boro. He had resented his father, but only for his role in the fall of his family. In truth, Boro still loved and idolized his father for his legendary skill and strength. His goal to be the greatest blade master was to restore his family name and honor; a large part of that goal was so that people no longer said Bora the Bold's name with spite. How could he not want to be like the man he so admired, the father that he loved and hated too? Boro's mother spent much of his childhood, after Bora's disgrace, telling Boro that his father was a great man and that if he could have done things differently, then he would have. She was convinced that he did the best he could to protect Galaos and bring about peace. But no amount of well speaking could fill the hole left in her when he had died and they had become destitute. That angered Boro even more, becaus
Sword Dancer Master & Student Depart
Although he was yet to be acknowledged as a blade master, Boro was a few steps away from that title officially. There were a few ways to obtain the title of blade master. The most common way was to defeat a titled master in a duel, whether that be a duel to the death or not, beating someone who holds that title, usually witnessed by others to authenticate the claim, would allow one to become a blade master. Furthermore, being tutored by an acknowledged master, and in turn being acknowledged by that master, was another way for one to finally obtain that title. Boro had yet to have either of those occur yet, so Littume's request was highly unusual. As Boro could not acknowledge Littume's sword skill as a master, then his tutelage would only be good for further Littume's skill. Training under someone not yet a master, was something not often done. A perspective master would only seek out those that could ack
Sword Dancer On the Road Again
Boro and Littume left the city in the quiet of early morning. They and a handful of soldiers as an escort, slowly marched down the cobbled streets of Helfa, people were just beginning to fill the streets, preparing merchant stalls and storefronts for another day of business. They barely gave the small procession a second glance as they went about there morning. There were twelve of them total, Littume, Boro, nine of Lord Jetir's strongest household guards, and his most trusted officer. When they arrived at a private gate house, Boro was surprised to see Lord Jetir himself there to see them off. He had an entire procession of guards of his own, one of them held the reins of two horses laden with packs and supplies. Lord Jetir clapped Boro on the shoulder with one hand, the other holding a long folded piece of cloth, and told him that the two pack horses were his, to feed and supply himself while on the road. He also handed Boro a fat sack that clinked heavily when dropped in
Sword Dancer Friend or Foe?
The city of Kolomet was even more immense then Helfa. It was also far older, and its known history stretched back for nearly millennia. However, were Helfa was a city of colors, this one was the opposite, all the buildings were grey and drab and lacked the same majesty. But Kolomet was made for a different reason then the last. Kolomet was a fortress encircled by walls twice as tall as any he'd ever heard of, let alone seen with his own eye's. According to all reports, the lord of this city, Amara Trili, was a life long military man, his own father having fought for the Kings army right up until he died in combat. The man had been nearly seventy years at his death. Rumor said the the elderly lord had been sick for many years before the war that drew him from retirement started. They had been planning on using that as a way to bring Amara in to the fold. When Boro and Littume arrived in the office of the cities Lord. He was certain this mission would be a failure. All a
Sword Dancer War and Carnage, Age: 389
Boro pulled his blade from the throat of the woman he had killed. Using her thick woolen cloak to wipe away the blood already beginning to freeze on the gleaming metal. He felt a burning sensation in the left side of his abdomen and saw a wide puncture mark in his steel armour. Dammit all, another wound to tend to Boro thought angrily. He had no time to tend to it now though, as a battle was raging all around him. Boro quickly found his unit and used them to cover him while he hastily ripped off another chunk of his undershirt to staunch the bleeding. As soon as he had it secured to the wound he jumped back into the fighting. All around him was chaos, men and woman meeting with swords, spears or maces, the sounds of metal ringing against metal, and the screams of fear and pain when cold steel parted hot flesh. His own wounds burned and throbbed terribly but over the sounds of agony, his own seemed to pale in comparison. The smell of blood, piss and shit was becoming
Latest chapter
