On Meeting A Master - From the story sticks of Bhuel of Tinbrook

From the Story Sticks of Bhuel - Savioli of Erde

The woodland bash ended, the participants all departed with smiles, waves and some tears, the man of Tynbrook takes a few moments to get away from his comrades for a bit of reverie.

"What a fascinating day!  Aw, gods of earth and stone, what a beauty she was…" you think as you peer upwards at a bird of prey, much like the one the nymph turned into after leaping off of the stone alter as gracefully and powerfully as a gazelle.  You remember how she spread herself out on the ground before the great druid, naked, ready for love.  Wow…  In resisting an offer like that, Marivelle must be a great...man.  Hmm… Maybe at one time...

Eyes narrowed from the light of Arah they remain narrow in silent contemplation as your gaze ascends to touch upon the forest's edge then returns to the flower dappled greenery that swims about your knees.  Joined by a wide circle of leaning, weather beaten stones, the wild and unmanaged greenery rises and falls through out a large clearing that only an hour ago was neatly coifed. "Oh Mother of Erde, I marvel at thy might.  I am grateful for these events." you say, moved by the wonders you have seen over the last day and a half.

With an arm behind your back you gracefully take a step forward and whisk a katana from it's sheath so quickly it's hard to follow with the eye.  Gently then, you slowly swish the blade of your katana in a wide arc through the tall grasses and flowering weeds.  Mesmerized by the beauty of Aralight glinting off of the magnificently crafted, slightly curved blade as it slides through the stems and leaves, a gentle murderer, easily separating them from their supporting stalks, you think "What can all of this mean…"

You straighten, whip your katana back into it's scabbard and then relax your stance.  A chuckle escapes your lips at the wonder of it all.  Your right hand rubs a bit at your chin as you shake your head still deep in thought. 

BONK!

Something small and hard has struck you sharply in the head and bounces away.  Out of the corner of your eye you see it was a small stone the size of a large marble and it appears to have come from the left.  Before it gets too far, like a lightening bolt you whip out a blade with your left hand and bat it back in the direction from which it came.

Continued................................

 A lone elf, laughing, catches the stone that you just batted back at him.  He pulls the hood of the elven cloak back from his head exposing golden red hair in a long pony tail and bright violet eyes.  "Very good..!  Very good, Bhuel, Half Elf of Tynbrook." He says with a beaming smile.

"I was among the celebrants last night and noticed your blades.  There are only two sources for such excellent craftsmanship on the whole of the island and I know what I'm talking about."

Without another word the elf leaps, spinning into the air, his silver blades no more than a streak of silver and arahlight as they hum in circles about him.  Landing in the same kneeling position as you the elf smiles large as all of the greenery in a 5 foot radius about him drops down to the ground. 

He slowly stands and twirls the blades about with precision and power but with an ease and a finesse belying a level of mastery that you have only drempt of.  And, when the blades stop spinning, you notice the craftsmanship can only be that of the brothers who so gifted you with your own martial weapons and training.

Snap!  snap!  The blades are back in their scabbards and the elf puts his hands on his belt, one behind each scabbard.  Allowing himself to relax he shifts his weight over onto his left leg and lets his head and shoulders hunch ever so slightly forward as he studies you through squinted eyes.

"My name is Savioli and I new Hokurou and Ookami.  Indeed, it is they who made these mighty steel fangs of death.  They have happily drank much blood in their day...and kept my ars comfortably on this side of the dirt."  Another large grin.

"Now...Let's get to know one another, shall we?"

And with no time to say anything, Savioli covers the ground between you (about 30 feet) amazingly fast and your weapons ring out in the morning air.

"Oh come now." He says in the midst of a easy parry and a graceful spinning attack you barely counter.

"The brothers are crying in their tombs, half elf."  As the ranger attempted to hook Savioli's ankles with his secreted blades, Savioli lept easily to the right and spun a dance around to the side and rear of the surprised and confounded half elf ending the move with a swat across Bheul's backside with the flat of one of his blades.

Come on now.  Would you really want to be taught by a "master" who couldn't see that coming?   

"Well done, Bhuel!  A good fighter always has a back up plan.  I commend you on having one but know that a master expects all good fighters to have a back up plan...and a master always has a counter!"  He says with excitement as he snaps his blades back into their scabbards. 

"You are truly gifted, my friend.  Green but gifted.  I could have had your head a dozen times or, for that matter, your ears or your nose, hands or anything else I may have been shopping for."  He says laughing and walking up to you.

His eyes soften and he pushes the air down in front of him with his left hand in bid to calm any hard feelings.  "Don't be frustrated, bhuel of Tynbrook and please...forgive my elven jesting at your expense.  You're really very good and you have great potential.  You are worthy of those katanas.  Unfortunately, in this duel you were cruelly over matched.  I've been cutting my way across the plane of Erde for over 400 years. 

Covered with the blood of orcs and hill giants I stood by King Tarimoor when he laid waste to the evil kingdom of Chult 7 or 8 human lifetimes ago.  A century after the fall of Chult when Mount Kor exploded in the north and the skies of the world were dark for a year, I fought blade to claw against the lich lord of Arabast and threw him down forever. 

With the Prince of Janthyra I sailed the Sea of Stars and fought for 12 days straight in the battle of the Red Corsairs of Baator.  I've scaled the Claws of Prukhan and, with a crew of 13 brave warriors, slew Krisvyre, the green dragon and bane of Sun Lee.  I then gave the worm's vast treasure hoard to the people of the kingdom of Sakura whom she had terrorized for 3 times your life on Erde. 

And, I've done many many other things, my young friend.  Some that I would be happy to tell you about over a tankard and many others still that I don't care to think about or remember."

"So..."

Sovioli takes another step forward and extends a gloved hand.  Now that he is closer you can see a hint of crinkling around the bright violet eyes.  With that seemingly unquenchable smile and his hand in reach he continues,

"Will you put your swords and hooks away, Bhuel of Tynbrook, and shake an old elf's hand in friendship?"

At The Feet of the Master
The Smiling lightning bolt

The venerable elf, as easily as a young boy, climbed down from the tree from which he had just cut two 4 foot long branches, mostly straight and about the thickness of a human thumb.  He swished and swooped them back and forth in front of himself and smiled at the sounds they made as they tore at the air.  Suddenly he leapt up high and came down spinning, dancing and whirring the sticks about him in an incredibly graceful choreography reminiscent of perhaps a mountain lion and a ballerina. 

 

Singing a song in his Elvin tongue he laughed and danced lightly around in a wide circle while beautifully chopping, slicing and killing imaginary foes.  Two farmers in a field about 100 yards away stopped what they were doing and watched with mouths slightly open.  Savioli ended his song and his deadly dance in a final leap into a crouch, one arm behind and across his lower back with the "blade" pointing off to the left and the other arm across his front with the "blade" pointing off to the right.  With power and control he stood up straight, eyes closed and crossed his arms like an Egyptian pharaoh across his chest pointing the two sticks diagonally upwards on either side of his head.

 

He stood in that pose for a minute, eyes closed, arms crossed, feet together, posture upright and straight.  Opening his eyes he looks right into Buel's and grins a wide grin.  Relaxing, he walks about as though mildly drunk now indirectly closing the distance between the two of you.  "It's been said at least twice that we Grays take ourselves too seriously", he chuckles.

 

Straightening his walk and stride he walks to within 10 feet of you.  "I apologize for my brethren's rude commentary back at the tavern. My people can be so conceited in their 'Elvin-ness'.  It's one of the reasons I have been on a walk about for most of my 5 centuries." 

 

Looking more serious now, Savioli takes up a formal fighting position.  "Now, apprentice, it is time you learned your first kata.  And, while we go through these steps I will tell you some of my life and of my philosophy; The Way of Strategy."

 

"There are various Ways. There is the Way of salvation by the law of

Corellon Larethian, the Way of Labelas Enoreth governing the Way of learning, the Way of healing as a doctor, as a poet teaching the Way of Fea (Elvish classical poetry), tea, archery, and many arts and skills. Each person practices as they feel inclined. It is said the warrior's is the twofold Way of pen and sword, and he should have a taste for both Ways.

Even if a person has no natural ability he can be a warrior by sticking assiduously to both divisions of the Way. Generally speaking, the Way of the warrior is resolute acceptance of death. Although not only warriors but priests, women, peasants and lowlier folk have been known to die readily in the cause of duty or out of shame, this is a different thing.

The warrior is different in that studying the Way of Strategy is based on overcoming your enemy. By victory gained in crossing swords with individuals, or enjoining battle with large numbers, we can attain power and fame for ourselves or our lord. This is the virtue of strategy."

Much kata instruction, philosophy and sparring ensues...and at it's end:

 

Buel, tired now but not giving up, makes a complicated 1, 2 parry and attack with his katanas only this time, when Buel's weapons strike Savioli's sticks one stick is batted off into some bushes and the other is sliced in half.  Without even batting an eye Savioli turns and, with a smile, tosses the remains of his last stick in the direction of the group of farmers that has accumulated silently watch your practice with awe.  

 

He walks towards the two large water bladders the two of you have been taking swallows from for the last 3 hours of various instruction and gives you a nod.

 

 "You're a fast learner.  Excellent!  I knew I hadn't wasted my time picking you.  I thought at one point I might have to cut new practice swords. " says a beaming Savioli as he raises one of the bladders to his lips .   

 

For the last hour you and Savioli had sparred, you had used your katanas against his sticks .  You never managed to touch him but he did give you a few swats.   In the process, of course, you learned a few things.  One was a new kata for you to practice daily, another was a portion of the Way of Strategy and finally an advanced fighting move.