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+---- Thread: Nebtha Badru (/showthread.php?tid=2087)
Nebtha Badru - Miscr3ant - 02-07-2014
Name: Nebtha Badru
Age: 18
Height: 5' 10"
Weight: 175 lbs
Hair: None, shaven
Eyes: Brown
Skin: Tanned
Race: Human (Mulan)
Class: Monk/Fighter
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Marks:
The small finger is missing on his left hand
"Again" says my father.
Once more I raised my spear as the training slave came toward me, his calmness radiating outward in direct proportion to the capacity for violence within him, his hands empty.
"Remember, look only to his eyes" my father intones. "They will tell you what the mind's intent is". Suddenly, the slave’s eyes flicked to my left, and I moved the point of my spear there in response. As swift as a snake he leapt into the space no longer guarded, his hand moving, striking the haft of my spear below the point, forcing the head further away, and twisting my body, exposing it to his blows as they swept in; one, two, three in rapid succession, the ribs and kidney on that side paying the price for my failure. I go down to my knee, teeth gritted against the pain, bracing the butt of the spear on the ground for support. The slave steps back once more, his breathing not even labored.
My Father slowly walks around us. "How can you protect yourself, when you can be fooled by a feint so readily? Remember, the eyes see more than what is right in front of them. School yourself in using the eye entire, look through the sides as well as the front, and you shall find your enemy harder to surprise you. Again."
Sweat running down the back of my head, I blessed the Gods once more that I am Mulan, and so dirt, sweat, find no purchase there in unkempt hair, but slide to fall in the dust. I raise my spear in the defensive posture again, and see a suggestion in my Father's eye of disapproval. He nods slowly, and the trainer moves in once more.
"Your eldest brother shall succeed to the estate. Your next brother is destined for the priesthood. What does that leave you, my youngest?"
Since the question was direct, I am bound by law to answer, even though training is in session.
"The way of the warrior, Father" I reply.
"The way of the warrior" he echoes. The trainer looks to my right, but this time I move there, bringing the point up in front of me, using the longer reach of my weapon to keep him at bay for another second. Small jabs and kicks test my defense; it holds, for the moment.
"But is it enough to be a warrior? Can our duty be served in merely swinging a sword?" He holds out his hand, and in an instant another slave places a cup in it, cool water drawn from the well.
"No, Father" I reply, my eyes never leaving the face of the trainer as we move around each other inside the roped circle. To put a foot outside is to taste defeat; a bitter thing, one I have known before, and the beating that comes with it.
"No" he says, moving slowly about us, his eyes watching as we test, probe for openings. "We of Thay have a duty to be better than mere warriors. Our duty is to serve Thay, and its Red Wizards, as they fulfill their duty. And what is that, my son?"
"To rule the world, Father" I reply...and just as suddenly, my opening came. For a wind sprang up, whirling, as we did who fought in the circle; strong, flinging the training slave’s hair into his face, and bringing sand and dust to fly up into his eyes. Instinctively he closes them, his hands moving upward, and I move in. My spear point rises, darts, but at the last second that my spear would pierce his chest, I stop, the point resting on his breast...and my Father shouts "HOLD!"
Both of us freeze in place, trainer and student, and my Father steps close to us, looks me in the eye, then swiftly raises his hand and strikes me across the face, his eyes showing anger.
"What did you do?" he softly asks. And in an instant, I see the answer.
"I failed to use every advantage" I reply. "I had him in that moment, and I did not use it".
"And allowed your enemy to live" he says. "An enemy alive is an unbearable thing, it is like a slave without chains. Both must be ruled; the one with shackles of iron, the other through death". Swift as a snake, his hand moves out, the dagger within it striking deep into the hole in the back of the trainers head, severing the spine, and sinking into his brain, death the result. "And sometimes with both" he says, bending to wipe the blade clean against the tunic of the slave who fell to the ground without making a noise.
Rising, he approaches me once more. His eyes take in my face, a face so much like his. "This is life's most important lesson, my son. But I fear that you have not the wit to remember it".
And in an instant, I see what I must do. Looking him in the eye, I hold my right hand out, my palm flat, a silent request for the dagger. Raising one eyebrow, he places the weapon in my palm. I turn, and lay my left hand flat on the table nearby, and before I can regret my decision, take the blade and sever the smallest finger where it joins the hand, the wound immediately welling blood that flows, bright and red over my hand as I hold it up before his eyes.
"I will have this reminder every day, Father...and it will not happen again". We both stand there, the only sound the small breeze as it flows away, the small sound of my blood striking the dust. His hand rises, the palm up, a silent request in his eyes for the dagger; I place it into his palm. Taking it, he grabs hold of the hem of his robes and cuts it, tearing off a strip that he uses to bind the wound; the bleeding slows, stops.
He looks at me once more, his eyes weighing, assessing...and then he nods.
"Go to the house, rest the remainder of this day, and in the morning be gone. There is no place here for you any more, for you are a man now, and so must make your own way in the world. Be strong, remember your teaching, remember your duty; serve Thay".
So saying he places his hand on my shoulder, the first time and the last time he did that in my life, and turned and walked away. I stood there a moment, hearing only my heartbeat and the small buzzing of the flies as they settled onto the body of the trainer...and I remember that lesson as well, place it in the wound on my hand alongside the other.
That death is swift, and comes when you least expect it.
Make ready.
RE: Nebtha Badru - BrandenburgAngel - 02-07-2014
{Oh, nice.}