Spar on the Sea
Thirty Seventh of Olweje-hamba (Olweje Descending) 1348 A. L. (After Landfall)
By now sparring on a tilting deck has grown if not truly comfortable than at least familiar enough to be getting on with. You had learned to stay out oft he way of nets and Inge is kept busy repairing broken spears by the dozen, but noose enough you get more bold, swords and spears, daggers and arrowheads flashing rain or shine. It had become something of a deckside entertainment whenever the space is not needed for the workings of the ship, one that sees guests from the Pride take their own turn at spectating, and even make the odd bet, once the blood begins to fly.
Spears are not the only thing Inge can mend so you start to be a little more bold in how you wield the sword or strike out with the shield, in the sorts of falls you are willing to take if it gets you where you want to be. The instincts of ten years at war and the voice of every instructor you had as a boy are practically screaming at you not to take those sorts of risks in a spar, but you trust in Inge's skills and odd as it is to think you have even come to trust Ikomi, something you are told even her own faithful are not encouraged to do.
The cuts and scrapes grow deeper, and the broken bones follow soon after and then... well mayhap fighting one against three was not your brightest idea.
I really should have watched for that spear as well... Being stabbed in the neck does not hurt near as much as one might think it should, though that may be because of all the blood making it hard to breathe.
"My Lord I... I... Mary Mother of God..." Poor George is beside himself with terror at your state, which makes it all the more troubling that you cannot seem to speak properly.
A small hand finds yours, a cold numbness shooting up it to your heart and from there higher to the neck, the blood slows, stops. "I did
ask you to fight like that man, if anything I should be apologizing to you for exposing you to the no doubt ill-favored sight of myself
wearing all this blood." Turning to where Esha was sitting to one side you ask, mostly in jest if there is some spell for cleaning blood.
"There is a knack to it though not one I ever bothered to learn," she replies much to your surprise, then with a laugh that comes as suddenly as a flash of sunlight on a cloudy day she adds. "Perhaps I had best learn it,"
For a moment you are tempted to ask her to take part, but you do not think the men are quite ready to expose themselves to sorcery nor to see you struggle against its power and you fear Esha might take an invitation to spar privately ill... or worse still she will take it well tease you about it. Instead mayhap you could call another: "Silver, care to try your hand at shipboard battle?"
"Alas I lack for hands," your friend counters dryly and to general amusement, though not many of them laugh long. The hooves of a warhorse are dangerous enough when they are only the weapons of a trained beast. When guided a mind as intelligent as any man if not more so... well it is no surprise he wins three against one.
Still, when all the broken bones mended it cannot be denied that all those who are with you on this journey have learned well the hard lessons this world had to teach, whether in the flight of an arrow, the strike of a spear or the sweep of a sword. None of you are who you were on that night half a year ago and that will hopefully serve you well not only to live but to thrive in the days ahead.
What did your men at arms learn from battles past?
[] Write in level up for men at arms (Archers; net wielders; spearmen)
OOC: Rather short, but hopefully you guys like it as a bit of character building. 
