Chilly Charges

[Tracy]

Ripley Contarelle loved Salamandastron and she loved the Long Patrol. Even so, her favorite thing was the trips she was able to take away from the mountain as a scout. It had been some time since she got any significant assignment because of the various incidents she'd been involved in lately, particularly the little escapade with the eagle. When something like that happened to you, the commanding officers had a tendency to keep you from any kind of important assignment. Ripley assumed it was just the superstition. If, in a short space of time, a runner manages to injure her foot, and as soon as she is well again, gets taken away by a rarely-seen eagle, she just wasn't having a lucky streak.

Although she was vocal and exasperating about being stuck at the mountain for so long, she was a little relieved to begin with. She'd played it off like it was nothing, especially because she'd come out of the ordeal almost unscathed, but it hadn't been easy to shake off the fear of being plucked up by an enormous bird that had the intention of eating you. Ripley would never have admitted to that though. Of late though, her restlessness and pent-up energy had overtaken the intimidation of going off on a trip alone. So that morning when she'd been assigned a week-long assignment starting the next day, she'd practically skipped out of the meeting with joy.

Now, Ripley was heading back inside the mountain, shaking snow from her headfur and unlacing the long green jacket she'd donned. It was quite cold out, but the air was still and the snow was wafting down lightly, lazily. With the recent weather, the haremaid had lightened up her running routine, but couldn't be persuaded into stopping, or even into moving it indoors. Weather permitting, she was still running outside four or five days a week, but she didn't go on any distant runs, only easy jogs. Ambling into the indoor training compound, she slung the coat up onto a rack near the entrance before squatting and unlacing the tightly-woven knee-high moccasins she wore when the ground was icy. Her footpaws beneath were bare except for the bandages she wrapped around the middle to support them for running.

Hopping to her now bare footpaws, she bounced a little, shaking her arms to get the blood flowing through her limbs again. Her cheeks and nose still bore a bright pink flush from the cold and she could feel her hands and feet grow tingly as the warmth flowed back into them. Despite all this, Ripley was clearly still brimming with energy, still excited about leaving on assignment the next morning. Even after her run, she needed to slip into the training hall to find another activity to work off her excess energy.

[Romulus]

It had been a trying time for Cordin Fuzthrite Liztine Harlington Dorchester lately. His lovely Sola had been trapped in the infirmary for far too long. So long in fact, that Cordin was beginning to believe the sick bay staff was just trying to keep them separated out of spite. He visited as often as he could, but that insidious Dr. Black was always there, glaring at Cordin as if he expected the younger buck to singlehandedly dismantle the infirmary at any second.

And even now, when Sola was out of the sick bay, she spent much of her time in the quarters provided for her, only journeying down to the mess for meals and occasionally sparring with him. Cordin felt he might go mad with not being able to spend time with her. She'd promised him an extra-long sparring session today, but here he was in the Training Hall, and . . . no Sola. Cordin had spent most of the morning idling about in the Hall, practicing with various weapons, pairing up with some of the younger soldiers. Now he sat on the sidelines, barking out advice to two cadets who were toe-to-toe.

"Keep ye paws up, McArthur!" the corporal called out. "That ain't bolly up. I said up! Better. Now, Roland, uppercut to the--ha! There ya flippin' go! That's wot I call bloody boxin', wot!" As one cadet fell flat on his bobbed tail, the other smirked in triumph. Cordin clapped his paws loudly. "Bravo, gents. Jolly good show. Keep practicin'. Remember ye bloomin' forms, wot? Paws up!"

The corporal stood, having noticed the pretty haremaid who'd just entered the Hall. Ripley Contarelle. There was a gal could lift his spirits. He stepped out of the bleachers and made his way over to her, grinning widely and tipping an imaginary hat as he bowed. "Lovely day, Miss," he greeted, ears swiveling back and then forward again. "You're lookin' bright as a flamin' sun, ye are, wot? Bloody morn treat ye well?"

[Tracy]

Ripley glanced up at the sound of the voice. She'd sat back down on the ground for a minute to rub her footpaws. The tingly feeling had shifted to unpleasant prickling as her paws thawed out in the warmth of the busy training hall. She was used to the feeling though, and knew it would pass soon enough. Also, the haremaid was in an exceptionally good mood, and prickly paws was barely something to bother her now.

"Lovely day, Miss."

Ripley gave him a wry smile as she shook a few remaining snowflakes from her headfur. "If you say so," she laughed. The bits of snow hadn't even been noticeable in her clean white fur until she'd brushed it off onto her clothing. With the color of her fur being almost all pristine white, Ripley looked rather like she could be one of the mystical Snow Hares she'd been describing to the mountain's leverets lately. And although she'd never said so outright, she'd allowed a few of them to believe she actually was.

She tilted one long ear of greeting at the corporal as she gingerly got to her feet again. The ear she tilted had a small nick in it that she hadn't had before; her one souvenir from the battle with the eagle. She'd been told she'd always have the nick in her ear, but it didn't affect her hearing so she didn't really care. Shifting back and forth on her feet as the numbness continued to wear off, she gave the other hare her fickle attention.

"You're lookin' bright as a flamin' sun, ye are, wot? Bloody morn treat ye well?"

Ripley was unsure if the first comment had been a compliment or just an observation, but she sidestepped it anyway. "It did!" she announced, trying to rub some of the warmth back into her cheeks as well, which momentarily made them pinker. The haremaid was normally pretty good about masking her excitement for her assignments – especially because she tended to get the best ones – but it had been so long that she couldn't help herself. "I'm finally goin' on assignment tomorrow for a week."

Her delight was almost childlike, but she restrained herself from going into more detail. She knew she already sounded silly enough as it was. But she still hoped he'd ask. In her uncharacteristically good mood, she took an interest in the other hare's day. "So what've you been up to? Not letting bein' cooped up indoors get t'ya too much?"

[Tulian Solum]

(Hope it's ok for me to try and sneak in here .)

Staring out one of the higher windows of the mountain fortress at the lightly falling snow Seig grumbled to himself, trying to turn away but not quiet able to. The same snow would be falling back home, and knowing Lexie and his daughter they would be out right now enjoying it. Yaric better be taking good care of them...but what if he wasn't? What could he do? Quickly clearing his throat and then taking a deep breath he grabbed his head and forced it to look away from the window, unfortunately his hare guard was standing right next to him and gave him a raised eyebrow.

"Bad history, sir." Was the quick answer he gave before stretching his arms and letting the breath out. He needed to do something to take his mind off that, quickly. Training, that always helped. Making sure his guard was ready and he wasn't inconveniencing him to much he started to walk off toward the training room. This time he only had to ask the guard once for a course correction before he walked into the warm room. He arrived just in time to hear Ripley talk about an assignment to leave the mountain, he could understand, he often wanted to get out in his old home for times. Too much time inside is never that good.

Giving a salute and a quick; sir, mam as he walked past Seig moved over to the bleachers far enough from the hares that he wasn't intruding or anything, but could still just hear them. Stretching his legs out he left his nearly mended footpaw on the lower bleacher in front of him and folded his good leg under himself. Folding his differently colored paws in front of his mouth he rested them on his knees as he leaned forward. Narrowing his eyes slightly he began muttering small things to himself as he watched, snippets reaching the large ears of the hares.

"Too low...hit now...feet more spread...left arm less stiff." To which Seig's hare guard only rolled his eyes at Ripley and Cordin and did a little silly finger waggling gesture at the training hares.

(May give Cordin something to work his frustration out on, or impress Ripley :> . If you want me to change anything just ask.)

[Romulus]

"I'm finally goin' on assignment tomorrow for a week."

Cordin's ears perked up. It was clear she was quite excited about this. "Are ye now?" he said with a smile. "T'will be terribly boring 'round these bolly parts that week, wot? How we shall miss your charm and wit." The cheeky corporal winked roguishly. "Where to, if I may jolly well ask?"

"So what've you been up to? Not letting bein' cooped up indoors get t'ya too much?"

The golden-eyed corporal scoffed, puffing out his chest. "Get t'me, gel?" he repeated. "The bloody idea! Nothin' under the bloomin' sky can get t'me, doncha know?" He then folded his arms, ears flattening in irritation. "It's not all this indoorsiness is gettin' t'me. But if I'm t'endure one more blinkin' day without seeing Sola proper, I swear to the flippin' Dark Forest I'll go bolly insane, wot?"

He snorted, but soon composed himself. Opening his mouth to say more, he stopped himself upon the arrival of the ferret and his hare guard. A curious sight, to say the least, but the corporal knew of the vermin's situation. Something about Braythe stepping on his footpaw. Cordin flicked an ear and shook his head a little in response to the hare guard's gesture. He turned back to Ripley.

"I say, Rip," he began, brushing off the ferret's entrance. "Care for a jolly spar?" The corporal vaguely wondered--should Ripley decline the offer--if he could rough up those other two cadets for awhile. He would've asked the ferret, just for the satisfaction of beating a vermin senseless, but not even the muscular buck would fight an injured creature.

[Tracy]

"T'will be terribly boring 'round these bolly parts that week, wot? How we shall miss your charm and wit."

Ripley crossed her arms, watching him with a smirk. She wasn't entirely sure how to respond to Cordin's comments. She was fairly used to hearing such remarks from Southpaw, but they were sincere from him. The corporal was only messing with her. Either way, they didn't really seem to warrant much of a reply. She certainly wasn't going to thank him for the teasing flirtations.

"Where to, if I may jolly well ask?"

"Down t'the South Stream. Going inland from the mountains, then south. The Guosim is usually camped about there this time o' year. The River Moss gets a bit too icy. I'll make the trip back on the shore west o' the mountains." Ripley kind of looked off to the side a bit as she spoke, as if consulting some invisible map. The haremaid could recreate an extremely accurate map of Mossflower and the western shore from memory. Flicking her gaze back to Cordin, her black-tipped ears perked. "I'm the only one who can make the trip in a week," she added ostentatiously. "Although, the weather's going t'make that deadline a bit ambitious this time 'round." But Ripley liked a challenge.

At first, she was amused by Cordin's proclamation that nothing kept him down, but quickly grew disinterested in his blathering about Sola. All right, he wasn't really blathering, but any pining after the rabbit from the corporal caused the scout to become quickly bored. It wasn't just him. Ripley couldn't understand how anyone allowed themselves to get so wrapped up in another creature. Especially when said creature was only planning to leave you behind. It was irresponsible, and somewhat fatalistic. She did her best to mask her annoyance in the topic; after all, Cordin had been nice enough to take an interest in her goings-on.

Feigning interest so as not to seem heartless, she asked, "Why haven't you been able t'see her? She isn't cooped up in the sick bay anymore, right? Couldn't you visit here whenever?" A thought occurred. "Does she not WANT t'see you?" The question was more than a bit inappropriate but she was curious, and couldn't help herself.

"Care for a jolly spar?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, too quickly. Ripley didn't have her rapier on her, but that didn't seem to bother her too much. "Any weapon you 'specially feel like workin' with?" she queried, leaving the decision up to him. The haremaid wasn't the best weapon fighter, although she was exceptional with her rapier. Still, she was adventurous, and unafraid of being bested.

"We should make it a bit fairer though," she said, bobbing back on her heels with an impish smile. "Run a mile down the shore an' back, an' then we'll spar, eh?" She was joking, of course, but it was at least sure to keep it in the corporal's mind that she had just gone for a run in the frigid outdoors.

[Romulus]

Cordin didn't travel often, so the places Ripley named meant little to him. He knew vaguely where she meant (it wasn't like he'd never looked at a map). So he just nodded in reply. Her remark about her speedy traveling skills caused him to raise an eyebrow. "Oh aye, the only one," he repeated with a grin. Well, she would be able to beat him, anyway. Cordin wasn't the quickest on his feet.

As Ripley asked about Sola, the corporal lowered one ear. "Well, no, she's in her bloody room all the time," he answered. "I do try t'jolly well visit, but she--"

"Does she not WANT t'see you?"

Cordin paused. He hadn't thought of that before. Perhaps Sola was a bit tired of him. But that was certainly no reason to hole up in her quarters day and night, was it? The buck clasped his paws behind his back. "I don't flippin' know," he replied. "She won't bloomin' tell me, nor anybeast, actually, wot? Barely comes downstairs, she does." He didn't really want to think about it at the moment. He perked up when Ripley accepted his invitation to spar.

"Any weapon you 'specially feel like workin' with?"

"Rather!" the corporal replied, ears forward. "I've been meanin' to polish up on me blinkin' swordplay as of late." He'd been neglecting his own blade in favor of his halberd, recently. The reason being a few new cadets at the mountain in need of pole arm training.

"We should make it a bit fairer though," she said, bobbing back on her heels with an impish smile. "Run a mile down the shore an' back, an' then we'll spar, eh?"

At that, Cordin laughed. "Be prepared t'wait, m'gel," he told her. "I'm not as flamin' fast as ye are." He ran in place for a few seconds as if to demonstrate his point and then stopped, ambling over to a rack of practice weapons, a grin to rival Ripley's on his face. "You use a jolly rapier, right, Rip?"

[Tulian Solum]

(If you guys are really into it just go ahead and skip me for now, going to be busy over the next two days so go for it. I'll just jump back in when I can.)

[Tracy]

"You use a jolly rapier, right, Rip?"

"Completely correct, Cor'," Ripley replied, making fun of his alliteration, and his tendency to shorten her name. She didn't really mind nicknames though, not even some of the meaner ones. Ducking around him, she glanced over the practice weapons as well. Reaching out, she pulled free a long-bladed weapon. It was clearly too long and a might too heavy for her, but she glanced over the wavy, undulated blade of the sword.

"I used t'favor flamberges when I was a cadet 'cause I thought the blades were… interesting. An' a lot of them are made with swept hilts which I really like. My father was always tellin' me to use a rapier, but they just seemed so common." Clearly 'fitting in' had never been a concern for the haremaid, even when she was younger. She lifted the flamberge up a bit, looking eye level down the wavering blade. "When I officially enlisted, my grandfather made me a sword as a gift, with a gorgeous swept hilt an' an amethyst in the pommel." A stone almost the color of the haremaid's eyes. "But it was a rapier."

Ripley carefully returned the flamberge, and reached out to draw out a different weapon, instead; a basket-hilted rapier. "And it was perfect for me." She gave a little shrug as she stepped away from the corporal's range, giving a quick turn of the practice rapier over her wrist. The weapon's balance was nowhere near as sound as her own, but the length and weight were fine enough for her.

The scout was being too talkative and she knew it. When beasts got too chatty, she found it annoying, even when it was herself. Her good mood made her tongue a bit looser though, so she quickly made an effort to curb it. "You ready?"

[Romulus]

Cordin was visibly surprised when Ripley began chatting up a storm about the various blades she'd handled. He listened, quite interested, as she detailed her preferred weapon. Choosing a blade for himself, the corporal smiled, testing its weight and balance. Was Ripley always this happy before an assignment? He couldn't recall.

She seemed to catch herself, though. "You ready?"

"Quite," Cordin replied, dropping into a ready stance. He made the first move, feinting a swipe at her middle from the left and then quickly angling his blade up towards her head. "I must say, Rip, m'gel, you seem awfully partic'lar about a blade's jolly hilt. Swept hilts are actually one of me personal favorites, as well, wot? Next t'a good ol' basket, o'course. There a blinkin' story behind your preference?"

Cordin was genuinely interested. Weapons were one of his favorite subjects, after all. And Ripley seemed in one of the best moods he'd yet seen her. Maybe this morning hadn't turned out so bad, after all. The thought made him grin.

[Tracy]

Ripley wasn't given too much time to be annoyed by her own nattering as Cordin swung his blade at her. Turning the rapier down at an angle to avoid a swipe at her middle, she ducked in the same movement. The haremaid was small and quick, definitely more of a defensive swordfighter, and an opportunist out of necessity. Clever and perceptive, she was good at anticipating blows. Paired with her agility, she was tough to touch. However, her own strikes were few and far between, always waiting for an opportunity to present itself.

Smiling a bit at the loud metallic clang of blade meeting blade, she considered Cordin's question. "At first I jus' thought they were prettier," she confessed with a small laugh, turning her body sideways with a flick of the rapier. "But I have small paws an' so I have to hold the grip lower against the pommel to keep ahold of it. Swept hilts seem t'have protection lower on the grip. Basket hilts mostly just protect near the guard."

Since she was holding a basket-hilted rapier now, she was able to make her point. With her paw gripping near the pommel, most of it was exposed and vulnerable to a hit from another blade. "Cup hilts have protection goin' a bit lower, but it's clumsy trying t'trade paws off with a cup hilt. I'm a fair fighter with both paws, so I like t'leave that option open."

The scout was again aware of how talkative she was being. Cordin had to be tired of listening to her. She was tired of listening to her. "All right, don't let me prattle," she laughed. Lilting her balance forward, she made a quick jab just after ducking another stroke.

"So you. Why polearm instead o' sword?"

[Tulian Solum]

(Sorry for the wait.)

Scanning his eyes over all the dueling hares, though spending most of the time looking over the recruits and teachers so he could see the way they were trained. It was very interesting to Seig how different they were taught how to use a spear hear than he was. It seemed like the hares at this mountain were taught to keep the blade up and pointed toward the head or throat of the opponent. While he had been taught to keep the blade more down, toward the opponents stomach so it would be easier to stab in low, under the guard.

Both had their good points however, and Seig suspected the main reason they had a more upward style was to make defense easier. As he had not seen and hares in armor they needed to focus more on that than he did. Where as the style he was taught was so you could stab forward with the most speed.

Humming as he watched he slowly rolled his damaged foot, no pain at all. He knew it was getting better but not nearly that quickly. Shrugging he slowly stood up on the bleachers and began to walk around the training hall. Observing the other types of weapon styles the hares employed, but he was distracted but his hare guard saying to stop walking around while people were trying to train, and also the two hares he had walked upon earlier.

Frowning as he stood to the side of them and watched he was amazed how talkative they were while trying to land hits on each other. Were they not taking this seriously or did they just always do that? Probably the latter, the hares in this mountain seemed to love to talk, and apparently training was no exception. But on the outside he just watched, listening rather happily to their talk about weapons, the hares were clearly knowledgeable and enjoyed the subject, so he thought it no harm to join in.

"Mayhaps you tried a fluted parry guard marm? Makes a great defense and handy offensive tool."

(Basically two curved pieces of metal going outwards from the swords guard like ( ), which are used to trap the opponents blade. You can then easily twist your blade to disarm or otherwise immobilize the opponents blade, leaving the opponent vulnerable.)

[Romulus]

Cordin, though focused on dodging and swiping at Ripley, was riveted with her talk of sword hilts. Of course, he'd considered these differences and more in all his years of swordplay training, but the variety of design in a single type of weapon never ceased to amaze him. Despite the effort it was taking to land a solid blow on his lithe opponent, the corporal smiled. "Fascinating!" he exclaimed.

"All right, don't let me prattle," she laughed.

Cordin scoffed, "Nonsense, gel. Few things interest me more than bolly weaponry, wot?" He spun quickly and used the momentum to swipe at her head, bracing himself for her block.

"So you. Why polearm instead o' sword?"

"Eh?" he grunted, blade meeting blade again. "Oh, t'was a jolly gift from me dear ol' pater, wot? But more than that, it's a bloody good defense and an effective offense, doncha know? Keeps one's enemies from comin' in too flippin' close while simultaneously (nice parry, m'gel) allowing one t'wound and maim." He chuckled.

Then the ferret came up. "Mayhaps you tried a fluted parry guard mam? Makes a great defense and handy offensive tool."

Cordin was more than a little surprised to hear such things coming from the mouth of a vermin. The corporal had fought several times with a fluted guard, though it wasn't his favorite. Since the question was directed at Ripley, though, Cordin decided to hold his tongue.

[Tracy]

"Oh, t'was a jolly gift from me dear ol' pater, wot? But more than that, it's a bloody good defense and an effective offense, doncha know? Keeps one's enemies from comin' in too flippin' close while simultaneously (nice parry, m'gel) allowing one t'wound and maim."

Laughing, she ducked, her black-tipped ears flattening back protectively. "I'm quite certain I'd wound an' maim myself if given one."

Ripley bounced lightly to the side, sweeping down the rapier for a quick parry. Although extremely hard to hit and harder still to pin, the haremaid's swordfighting stamina in no way compared to her endurance when running. Her arm already grew numb from the jarring of the two weapons. Luckily for her –and what allowed her to excel despite a lack of upper-body strength – was her ambidexterity. She was about to be take advantage of this and switch paws, when an unexpected voice wrecked her concentration.

"Mayhaps you tried a fluted parry guard marm? Makes a great defense and handy offensive tool."

The scout was not easily flustered or distracted, so that she very nearly lost grip of her weapon just then was not at all characteristic. She barely switched the sword into her left paw in time to block Cordin's next strike. Although successful, the motion had been clumsy and it took her a few moments to get back into her fluid rhythm.

It took her awhile to answer the ferret because she wasn't sure she wanted to. Ripley had noticed when the ermine had walked into the training hall; it was not the kind of detail that escaped her attention. She'd heard about a ferret staying at Salamandastron, which was already bizarre enough, but that they allowed him into the regiment's training hall was just ludicrous. Clearly some fool creature with more authority than her had approved the injured ferret's stay, but on whose daft head was the clearance to wander in here?

Salamandastron was not Redwall. It wasn't their job to keep taking in the injured and infirm. That was irritating enough; but then allowing the… 'guests'… free reign of the mountain was just infuriating. This was a military headquarters. Ripley had also heard about a pair of otters, whom she was a bit more understanding in their desire to take in, but she still didn't approve of allowing them permission to roam the mountain. A ferret though? Someone was off their rocker here.

The haremaid didn't do a very good job at masking her resentment, but, for once, she held her tongue. All she managed to reply was, "I'll keep that in mind." Still with her left paw, she parried another strike from Cordin. "And," she went on, because her self-control was horrific at best, "Even if y'have to refer to me as 'oy you there' don't ever call me 'marm.'"

[Tulian Solum]

Watching as they continued to strike back and fourth Seig noted the look of surprise on the male hare, but then quickly took a step back as the female almost lost her grip. Was it something he said or did she just slip? His smile soon turning into a frown as she spoke up he nodded, it was what he said. Very well, he could understand, most hares here seemed to look down on him. better to remove himself in case he made her mess up worse next time. Quickly noting the chevrons on her upper arm he bow slightly and took some more steps back.

"Understood Private, apologies for my language."

Quickly turning on his good foot he moved to the other side of the training room and, after a few looks with his hare guard, who seemed quiet angry with him that the ferret would distract a hare, he picked up a oak staff. Seig knew that the guard wouldn't let him touch even the blunted weapon but he needed something to take his mind off this new experience.

Taking a few deep breaths to clear his mind he held the staff like he would a spear and began some simple drills. Not wanting to go to quickly and damage his foot more. But soon enough he was spinning the staff rather quickly around his body and making the end quiver as he slashed and stabbed, always returning the 'blade' of the spear to its original horizontal position.

Was the hare just surprised by what he said or did she just hate him? The male hare just seemed to be surprised, but her expression was that of barely controller rage. She must have had a bad experience with some of his less honorable breatheren. Seig Nodded a little as he swung the staff over his head and slammed it into the dirt floor, he should probably avoid her for the time being until he could prove that he was not a murdering thief...But judging by her first reaction that would take some time.

Clearing his throat he began his drills again, his hare guard soon growing bored and going back to stand and listen to Ripley and Cordin

(At least I think shes a Private o.o, correct me if I'm mistaken.
Also;
-Prejudiced towards "vermin" types . Fun stuff :>)

[Romulus]

Cordin couldn't resist a chuckle at the haremaid's thorough dressing-down of the ferret. Poor fool hadn't known who he was talking to. The corporal parried a blow from Ripley and arced an eyebrow as the vermin backed off and gave a rather civil apology. Where did they teach manners to vermin? And on that note, how? An image popped into his head. Ferrets, stoats, and weasels all sitting down to tea in their Sunday best, all speaking quaintly and politely to one another. The image made Cordin shudder.

It also made him lose his focus. He was very nearly sliced on the arm by Ripley. Only his finely-tuned reflexes saved both his bicep and uniform as he twirled the sword up in a block. It was then he noticed the ferret was gone. "Blighter," the sandy furred hare muttered. Then, louder, "I say, Rip, it's a wonder we don't spar more bloody often. You're a jolly good swordsman. Or, should I say swords-woman, wot?" He swiped at her head. "It's a bit o' flippin' work findin' a beast wot can keep up with me. Not that I'm flamin' braggin' or anythin' o' the sort." He grinned.

((If I need to add something, let me know. Sorry I kept y'all waiting.))

[Tracy]

Ripley could barely help laughing when Cordin complimented her swordfighting skills. Her arms and shoulders were on fire. She lacked the upper-arm strength necessary to keep up this momentum. All her conditioning was focused on increasing the strength and stamina of her running legs. She consoled herself by convincing herself that a swordfight between herself and a foebeast would hardly ever take as long as a spar with comrades. Ducking the swipe to her head, she turned her blade at an angle to use it as a shield as she stepped back.

"Oh, lovely. Now that you're sufficiently impressed, we can stop, yes?" It was clear she was calling it quits because she was exhausted, but it was nice to jokingly suggest it was because she'd made a point. Stepping back away from Cordin, she returned the rapier to her right paw and tested its weight a bit. Although sparring that long was always going to be a trying experience for her, this blade was clearly heavier than her own. Ripley's grandfather had known what he was doing when he'd fashioned her rapier.

The haremaid didn't really look exhausted; she wasn't breathless or sweating unduly. But as she tucked the blade back where she'd taken in, she was rolling her shoulders and rubbing her upper arms. She would sweet-talk someone into a shoulder-rub later and it shouldn't be bothering her tomorrow. Turning back, she looked about to say something to Cordin, but her eyes slipped past him instead, attention alighting on another.

"Oh, hullo Bright Eyes," she said to a young male hare who looked positively exhausted. "Busy night o' bootlicking the C.O's?" Ripley was almost bobbing on her feet, eyes glinting with a playful mischief. The male seemed about Cordin's age, and was the same rank. Although the resemblance was minimal at best, the violet-hued eyes were unmistakable; Nathan Contarelle, Ripley's older brother.

Despite dark circles of sleep-deprivation and slumped shoulders of exhaustion, Nathan returned his sister's smirk. "Oh that's alright, Pint-Size, you're in for a long night y'self. Somebeast let slip to mum that you're leavin' on assignment tomorrow."

Ripley lips formed a rigid line as he said that, and she just stared at him wordlessly.

He returned the stare for only a moment before looking at the ceiling. "Alright, I told mum."

"What were you thin-" Ripley started indignantly.

"Sorry, sorry, it just slipped out!" he said, holding his paws up defensively. "Like you said, was busy last night making more o' my life than you ever will. Wasn't thinking clearly."

Although the barb had sounded malicious, Ripley laughed. She sighed then, dramatically. "So...family dinner tonight I assume?"

Nathan winked. "See y'there," he said, confirming her suspicion. He ruffled her headfur then, like she was only a leveret, before moving off.

Ripley blew out a sigh again, like a deflating balloon. Looking to the ceiling as if it would provide her with the patience to continue, she eventually returned her attention to Cordin. "I need food. Do you need food? I need food."

[Tulian Solum]

After a few more runs through of the simple drill Seig careful spun around and layed the staff back with the others on the rack. Shaking his handpaws a little he turned back around to look over the training hall, his guard was still standing with the other hares as they exchanged blows back and fourth. But now some other hare was walking up to them. Shrugging Seig scanned over the rest of the hall, some younger hares were engaged in quiet a serious wooden sword battle as their teacher slowly walked after them, shouting both encouragement and corrections.

Stretching his arms a little Seig reached inside his pocket and pulled out the little brass orb of his old life. Rubbing his thumb over its now dull surface he hummed a little. He had heard Lord Braythe had an amazing forge, and easily would have tools to remove the tarnish and grime from metal. But whenever he asked about it to his guard or any other hare he was very quickly turned away from the subject. He had to assume it was near the top of the mountain, one of the few places he wasn't able to go. Popping the semi rusted latch the ferret smiled at the small painted pictures of his wife and daughter, then cleared his throat and quickly closed it as he heard footsteps getting closer, looking up to see who it was.

Unfortunately he didn't look up fast enough to see that the young hares sword battle had closed in on him, and before he could move, a mistimed swing smacked his outstretched paw sharply up. Seig could only watch in a mix of pain, surprise, and horror as the brass remembrance orb was sent sailing over the training all. His nearly healed injury forgotten as he started to madly run after the small object, itself heading for a landing right in the middle of Cordin and Ripley.

But with a quiet shout of pain Seig sank to one knee as his wounded foot shoot pain up into him, forcing him to watch the small shine fall. It surly to open weather it was caught or landed on the training room floor...right in the middle of the hares.

(Hope that was already to try and get it all back together.)

[Romulus]

"Oh, lovely. Now that you're sufficiently impressed, we can stop, yes?"

"Ye were tryin' t'impress me, eh?" Cordin laughed as well, lowering his blade and stepping back. "Well, it bloody well worked, wot?" He winked and replaced the training sword on the rack. He flicked an ear up as Ripley's brother sauntered up. The corporal paid little attention as something about a family dinner was discussed. But the mention of food did remind him it was very near time for lunch.

"I need food. Do you need food? I need food."

"Ye've flippin' read me mind, m'gel," the buck replied with a grin. "I do bloomin' well need food, wot, wot? Should be bolly time for vittles t'be served about now, hmm?" He spun on his heel and offered an arm to Ripley, still grinning roguishly.