A Loyal Hound 4/22 - OPEN -

[Maldren Wolfe]

The ring was quiet. Such an early morning for sparring, after all. My, my, the sun had barely begun to peak over the houses. But that was how the King's Wolf preferred to train; where few were. For did he not love that joy of battle? And how could he capture it, except with his hands eyes closed and Fang whistling through the empty air? For if there were people, then who knew?...Maybe he would devolve into a...a...haze, and kill them! Or, more likely, he would knock them aside, growl, and return. Maldren could use his weapon as precisely as a seamstress might use a needle, as a master artist could use a paintbrush, all because his father had forced him to wake up at dawn every morning from his thirteenth birth and fight. Not neccessarily in a ring, either; he'd been taught to fight in back-alleys, against grim cutthroats, even framed into doing misdeeds that saw a duel take place. All had forged him, like a fine blade, into the best swordsman in Svavel; or so he thought. None had bested him in years, and he was not yet slowing. The Wolf fought with his mind, his height, his strength, and supreme confidence.

So when he chose to spar alone, it was more a release than a practice. For only here could he imagine the bloodlust and savagery that had intoxicated him during a raid upon a Skallding Village easily ten years prior.
Wearing little but a red doublet, leather breeches and firm boots, Fang slid smoothly from it's scabbard. Neigh his scabbard. For the blade was blister-steel, fine as powdered glass, and it sung! Maldren gazed around - could they not hear it?

No matter. The man took up a simple fighting stance; sword high and to the outside, pointed straight ahead. The eyes closed, and he felt the heat. He heard the screams. His blade flashed in a myriad of arcs and sweeps as he recounted more exciting days.

[Tarissa]

A whole day. Another whole day and all she was expected to do was nothing, for this was the joy of being a Noblewoman. Correct? There was nothing better than to do nothing. Nothing to be done. Tarissa Forthwind was hardly one to go against the grain of the Nobility let alone that of her house. For here she sat, in her room, the perfect image of a noble. She sat for a moment longer before he moved onto the next part of her day. Doing nothing whilst wandering through the castle. One could say that she needed something to occupy her time, another might claim that doing nothing was the way to occupy ones time either way, the mask that Tari had so carefully built up remained as much at it truly disappeared from her real intentions.

By the time she had reached the gardens she was already bored with this new part of her life. It was early morning and she wasn't entirely certain why she was even awake at this time. Perhaps it was merely that she was bored with sleeping also. Maybe she just really needed to be out doing something in order to become accustomed to the life she would lead for the rest of her life. This was not shocking but it did sometimes force her to think. At that moment she heard some noise. It was not much but enough to make her brighten a little.

For that noise promised so much this early morning. There was little else happening but she knew precisely what kinds of people would be awake this morning at such a time. It was these people that she enjoyed the company of the most for they were usually the last to manipulate but the first to be manipulated. She rounded the corner and spotted a delightful treat. A hound training? How delightfully fun. She stopped for a moment, just watching the male move about with some grace before she finally stepped forward into view.
"Goodness, if one didn't know any better one might think you trying too hard." She teased lightly, "Surely a man of your talents need not train this morning."
She stopped and clapsed her hands before her lightly. A mutt to tease and trick. The day was indeed shaping up.

[Maldren Wolfe]

Maldren turned, the bastard sword falling to the ground like a bird shot from the sky. The heavy weapon clattered once, twice against the ring's ground, as the warrior turned. A slight flash of anger danced across his face, before he pursed his lips and controlled himself.
"Skill acquired and kept by hours of practice. Or maybe you think us Knights are born from the womb throttling Skalldings and slaying bandits?" Maldren replied, rather tersely, as Fang slipped nimbly into it's scabbard.
What use was a rusted sword, no matter how well-made, if it was neither sharpened nor cleaned? The same logic stood with men; give them a few years next to a brothel with a market down the street, and he will become lax and foolish. Throw him next to a foe he hates with all of life's neccessities distant, and he will become a fine warrior and a skilled horseman.

Maldren turned and gave the intruder a very obvious look, up and down, as if that was what he did to everyone new he came across. Well, it was. His eyes flashed with slight recognition, and his eyebrow spiked upwards.
"A Forthwind. A daughter of Jared, Geoffrey or Frederick?"
Of course, he kept up to date with the Noble Families. But his quiet tenure with the Forthwinds as a Page had been prolific in his life, and he noted the woman's features keenly and quickly.