Thedor 4, 229: Duke Vs Squire Round One

Duke Vs Squire Round One
Summary: Duke Aidan takes his Squire, Oxley Crawford to spar
OOC Date: 04/01/2014 (OOC)
Related: [http://daeren.wikidot.com/of-kincaids-and-haraveans]
Players:
Aidan Oxley 
Kincaid Manor - Practice Yard
Behind the manor in the courtyard.
It is day 4 of the month of Thedor, 229 2E

Oxley doesn't say anything about making heirs. Instead, he just rolls his eyes a little, smirks, and follows Aidan. As they walk, he asks, "Have you met the Laniveeri prisoners yet, sir?" He tilts his head a bit, "Are they as misguided as their father?"

Aidan seems to breath a sigh of relief, for getting out of the heavily female dominated discussions. "The Laniveer prisoners?" that interests the Duke, shaking his head, "Unfortunately I've not been privy to making the acquaintances of most of the foreign diplomats here. And why do you ask?"

Oxley shrugs, "Just curiosity, mostly. They are the enemy, after all." He smiles, "There's rumors, is all. Just, that there are Laniveeri in the castle." He purses his lips, "I've heard they're prisoners, not diplomats."

"Enemy…" Aidan looks over at Oxley, "Are you aware the Lady Senga was born in Laniveer?" He asks casually, though he follows up with a shake of his head, "Sometimes enemies aren't as easily determined by which nation they come from. Sometimes, the most dangerous enemy is those who we believe to be our friends." He nods toward the yard and mutters, "Let's get underway then. Help me into my leathers." The Kincaid manor has a small courtyard, which is sufficient enough for a proper practice. "I'll have to see what I can learn of the matter though," he says in after thought.

Oxley nods, "You're right, of course. I apologize. Lady Senga…" He thinks a moment, and then nods again, "I'll be more careful of my words and feelings, sir." He takes the Duke's leathers and begins helping Aidan into them.

Once the two have gotten into their leathers, since armor is opted out on in the case of sparring matches, so one can feel the wallop of a sparring sword, he nods to Oxley to enter the ring. "Lady Senga gave up much to become a Kincaid and I know her intentions are with House Kincaid, yet, she would be terribly offended to be called the enemey or to have people of her nation called as much. As much as I detest the Laniveer's, we have welcomed one of them into our family." He gets into position across from Oxley, "You will beget Heirs on some woman or another, I'll have you know. Your cousin, Ronan Crawford, is the sole survivor of his family. He'll need his cousins to produce heirs…" the sparring sword is lifted and bounced a bit in hs hand, to get the feel of the weight. "Ready?" he asks, through a faint grin, coming at Oxley with his sparring sword raised.

Oxley sighs, shaking his head a bit. "You know, my father sent me to you so you'd beat my ill tastes out of me. He'd be infuriated if he knew you instead sought to simply teach me to keep them hidden." He lifts his sparring sword, "I do um… I am thankful to you for that understanding, sir. Though, I'm not… I'm not sure I could ever… do… that." He looks uncomfortable. He lunges, the sparring begins.

There's a rather hard thwap of a sound as Oxley dodges, bringing his sword in around on Aidan's head of all places. "FUCK!" Aidan curses out as he staggers a few steps away, lifting his free hand to his head, bent over at his waist as he can already feel the swelling there. "What the HELL Oxley?! Trying to take off my DAMN head?" And yes, he'll stand there cursing a bit more, straightening eventually as his hand is still trying to massage out the stunning thwack he earned to the back of his head. Even with a sparring sword, there's a bit of moisture as he pulls away his fingers. "Well-" he does look at his fingers and admittedly grunts, "That would've hacked into a man's skull had we been working with real swords. Damn." He shakes his head, trying to readjust himself, "Who said I wouldn't beat your tastes out of you yet? Come at me!" He waves for the squire to come at him, poised with his sword up.

Oxley laughs. When with a sword, it's one of the few times he's aggressive with the Duke. "Sorry, sir," he says, though he's still grinning. "I thought you knew to duck," he says, teasing with a chuckle. "If I'm too skilled, you could cede, sir. I won't tell anyone." He grins, and then he's told to come at him. He laughs, then gets serious again, and begins his assault anew.

The laughter riles up Aidan, even though he's always been taught to not let the anger feed into his actions, he can't help it. His brothers had spent most of their lives practicing on the fields, and while Aidan did as well, he was caught up since he was seventeen being a Duke, mostly which consisted of verbal wars rather than not. Thus, he spent less hours with his blade the older he got and it's simple to fail to control one's anger when his head is already pounding from the first hit. And it's showing, as the Duke once again misreads the play and follows the attacks with multiple parries but eventually his sword swings and misses. While his arm takes a full on hit from Oxley's blade. He grits his teeth against it, but it's obvious even with the leather that he'll end up with a bruise from it. "So much for me beating anything out of you tonight. You -have- been practicing a lot more, haven't you? Speedy little shit."

Oxley nods, "I have been, yes," he answers. Seeing he has riled his knight a bit, he withdraws the teasing. He smiles, a little proudly at the last. "I run every morning," he answers, which is an unusual hobby in these times. "Speed is a greater ally than strength when you're my size, sir." He lifts his sword, "Again?"

"Yes damnit-" he snaps over at Oxley, "I've got to make sure -I- can survive the coming war against you younger bastards!" There is a curl of his lips, though this is currently rattling the normally stern Kincaid to be so unprepared against the sudden and driven assault from his squire. As for the mention of running every morning, well that'll be the day. Aidan has more important things to do than fall into a routine of a squire himself. He's a knight but age has crept up on him, as well the life of luxury. "Let's go—" and he'll step in close now to get into a few parrying strikes against Oxley, blade sweeping up to counter-strike and enter a series of pivotal motions. Aidan still has it, it's just a matter of if he can land a hit against the younger man, rather than just keeping their blades bouncing off one another.

Oxley swings, misses, and their swords tap a few times before finally, Aidan swings and connects. Aidan's sword strikes Oxley's chest, and he jumps back, "Ow!" He hops a moment, tapping the sword on the ground as he walks off the sting. "Okay okay. Clearly, the old man still has some spunk in him yet." He smiles, rubbing his chest. "Hrm…" He looks up, thinking in an overdramatic way, "Nope." He looks back at Aidan, "Still no interest in courting a lady." And he lifts his sword.

Aidan uses the moment as Oxley breaks off to work out his right arm, which feels the sting of the earlier blow, pumping blood through by stretching and straining the arm back and forth. He also draws a hand up to wipe at his brow, smirking at his squire from across the arena. "What? Old man?!" He snorts, "You little puke, you've not seen anything yet." He cracks his neck with a side to side jarring, rolling his shoulders and kicking a bit of dirt ahead of a boot. The last comment has Aidan point his sparring blade at Oxley, "I don't care if you don't have an interest. You're going to wed and fuck one anyway." And he'll follow that up with a meaningful delivery of his weapon, arching down to have them go into another sudden and furious exchange of blows.

Oxley laughs, but then the older man is moving in. His face quickly wipes to serious, and he steps, ducks, and swings. Their swords clack several times, quick and hard, and then Oxley lunges forward, getting in a strike to Aidan's left leg. The moment leaves himself open, and Aidan's sword slams into Oxley's left hand. "Son of a biscuit maid!" he shouts in pain, shaking his hand and stepping out of the combat circle.

Aidan doesn't let Oxley step out of the combat circle. In fact, despite the snap to his leg, he's following Oxley with a pronounced step and reaching forward with his hand, attempting to hold him up just for a minute while the opposite hand still clutching the hilt of his sparring sword comes forward to blast Oxley one in the jaw - no sooner does a shoulder snap forward hard into Oxley's chest and a foot come out to sweep underneath the younger man. The point being to get the younger man on the ground, where he'll grab the youth's collar with both hands, shoving him to the ground. He'll hold the boy there, looking down at the young Crawford with that hard intensity that intimidates and threatens further violence.

Oxley isn't expecting the hilt to the jaw, and as he always does in the first moment of an unexpected fistfight, he flinches, his eyes clench shut. Aidan's should slams into his chest, and he falls backward, a move made even more quickly by the sweep to his leg. He crashes to the ground on his backside with an, "Oooff!" As the dust settles around him, Aidan lands atop him, grabbing his collar. Oxley turns his head to the side, cowing slightly to his knight. His lip quivers, and he watches his knight, uncertain and out of breath.

Aidan's one knee is in Oxley's abdomen as his other knee is beside the younger's waist, though his arms have shoved the younger down. In reality, the younger has clearly shown his prowess against the older man. It's a subtle reminder that Aidan is on the downslope of his golden years and such youth like the young Crawford are the rising stars of the nation. It does not please Aidan however to see the lip quivering, "In a fair match, you win. War is not and you will learn to take a hit without flinching!" His tone lowers, becoming colder, "You will also learn to accept the fact that you must hide what you are and show affection to women. You hear me? War will be upon us in a matter of weeks. Your -HOUSE- needs you to be a man and produce offspring. Otherwise your line is -dead-…" he sighs and steps back off Oxley, hauling him up with him, grabbing the squire's arm to pull him up, "Enough for tonight. My head is pounding."

Oxley closes his eyes, nodding slightly, and then Aidan's pulling him to his feet. He stands there, tall and proud a moment, swallowing, and catching his breath. He looks off to the trees, "Yes sir, Duke, sir. I'm sorry." He looks back at his knight, and then nods. "I'll be better." Without brushing himself off, he moves to help his knight remove the leathers, taking the sparring swords and returning them to their cases.

"Enough-" Aidan snaps at the apology, remaining quiet while the youth helps him unstrap from the leathers. "Listen," Aidan looks over at Oxley, "you hit like a damn hammer. Keep that up along with your speed and maybe you'll do something worthy of being knighted, when the time comes." As the leathers are removed, he shrugs a bit and works out his arm, still tender from the wallop there. "Come on kid, there's sky herb to smoke and brandy to drink-" he offers and points them back toward the manor, showing a little limp with every step though.

Oxley smiles, "Yeah?" about the brandy. He nods, "I'd like that." He laughs a little, and he picks up their bags, carrying them as they walk. "A hammer, huh?" He glances at Aidan with some adoration. "Thanks." He looks at Aidan's head, "You know, you take it like a nail, sir." He smiles.

"Shut up you little shit—" Aidan scowls as he limps back to the manor, needing ice for his head.

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