“Whilst in Haven, I, Sir Vridich S’alamanthyriouslyness, decided it was time for me to learneth how to properly holdeth and maybe even swingeth this broadsword that I haveth been toting around with thineself since Throal. Indeed, I doth not consider myself any sort of duelist, warrior, sword master, hired blade, chicken, mouse, feather, bucket of water, or even particularly adepts with the cooking utensils, but there I twas on the deck of the glorious and mightiest of Dashing Stags. Ready to receive certain death by accidentally cutting off thine own limbs (I thinks it might actually be called “training” by most able blade wielding Namegivers sweet Suulin) from erstwhile Skram."
Editor’s note: It is at this point of the story that “Sir” Vridich is petting my arm, and partially drooling on himself. Hannah thankfully grabs his hand and puts a cool, damp cloth in it to distract him. After a few moments of staring blankly at the cloth, he finally thrusts his hand upward, index finger extended.
“So there I was! Surrounded by the rest of the crew, whom had gathersted arounds to watch my battle with the dread pirate Skram, winds blowing through my long pale hair. After some eloquent words from His Majesty the Skram, something about walkin the plank, we traded blows. I couldst tell that Skram was an abled scallywag. High and low our blades crossed! With neither of these mighty combatants able to gain footing on the other. Until there was a long laugh of a taunt from a red headed lass standing among the crowd of swashbucklers. Her insults were particularly biting and cut through the very depthfs of my soul. So I took a mighty swing at the Black Knight Skram, putting every flim flam of bone and muscles into mine deadliest of blades. Gripping the blade with both hands, a roaring shout produced from my lips… or was it more of a growl??? Bah, either way, I swung at the Dung-Heap-Lizard-of-a-Skram. My blow was so terrifying therest was a grand crashing noise from behindeth me, looking at my hands, my blade had turned invisible, as it was no longer there. So I turned around to see whilst all of the noise was coming about for. Apparently, one of these fuddling baffoons of a crewmates had loosed one of the sail trim ropes and a swinging mass of wood was coming straightst ats me! PREPOSTEROUS!!! Well, this dancing dragon of an elf was not to be taken down this day. Whilst a quickness never seen before in this world, I dodged that filthy trollop of a sail attack thingy. Dodgey I went, kissing the wooden floor and jumpity jumping back up to mine feetsies. Looking about, I spotted that no good for rotten Skram, hidden amongst some crates, pointing behind me, try to disctracktless me from my amazing dash with death.”
“So there youve hadst it bard babe. Avast ye saw me prowess and how I save the crew from certain death.”
And with that, Vridich passed back out from his brush with death. Apparently, while practicing his overhead chop with Skram, Vridich cut the main mast sail rope, embedding his sword into the wood. This had the unfortunate side affect of unraveling the sail, directly where Vridich was standing. While it is true, he was able to dodge the initial swing of the sail, this caused the boat to lurch and swing back right into Vridich’s skull, knocking him out cold and ending his first day of sword training. I reckon that he will not make that mistake twice. ~Suulin