Hey guys, it’s me, yo boy, the author.
So, can I get some reviews or opinions on what I’m writing?
As of right now, I have written up to chapter 29
I think the story is going well, but I’m biased, so do leave a review roasting me, thanks.
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“Here we are, wait by the shed; all the training weapons are in there.” The roid Nord known as Farkas remarked in an emotionless voice.
“Alright, thanks, Farkas.”
Septimus proceeded to stare at the other trainees swinging weapons around; the most common ones seemed to be battleaxes of the two-handed variety, greatswords, and one-handed swords.
There were only a few one-handed axes and, for some reason, no great hammers or maces.
Eventually, Vilkas came out of Jorrvaskr and walked up to him.
“Alright, young blood, time to figure out what suits you best.” Vilkas walked into the shed.
Septimus took a peek inside and called out.
“Shouldn’t I start with physical training first, rather than weapons?”
Vilkas walked out holding two one-handed swords.
“Not really.
Not every weapon uses the same muscles; the best way to train is to specialize in one weapon type and master it, then go from there.”
He handed Septimus one of the swords.
“So which one did you master?”
Vilkas scoffed while showing him how to properly grip the sword.
“All of them, lad, I am master-at-arms for a reason, although I have my preferences.
Anyway, give it a swing, tell me how it feels.”
Septimus swung the sword around like he had watched the other trainees do.
“Hmm, grip it with both hands and try again.” He did, but Vilkas then smacked the sword, almost causing him to lose his grip.
“Stop, I don’t think swords are for you.
It’s not bad, but we can do better.
Try this axe.”
Septimus tried it, but he fumbled even worse than with the sword.
“No, you look like you’re cutting wood, not axes then; try this.” Vilkas passed him a longer sword, not quite two-handed.
“This one can be wielded both one- and two-handed; give it a swing.”
Vilkas stared intently at Septimus, a frown on his face.
“Your arms are too stiff, hmm, not much of a swinger then, try stabbing, here’s how to do it.” After following the instructions, Septimus began repeatedly stabbing the air.
“Not bad, much better than before.
Hmm, that means you’d do pretty well with a dagger, but those aren’t weapons good for honest combat, so we’ll skip them.
That leaves us with…”
Vilkas walked back into the shed and came back carrying a few sticks of different sizes.
Septimus stopped to take a breath.
“What are those, staffs?”
Vilkas grabbed the longest one and passed it to him.
The first one was three heads taller than Septimus, even without a pointy end.
“That one’s too long, decent for army formations but awkward by yourself.
Give it back and try this one.” He took the spear back and took a shorter one, only about 2 heads taller.
“Ok, this looks better.
This is how to hold it; now stab a few times.” Septimus did as told and took a few stabs.
“I don’t like this one, Vilkas, feels awkward to face so sideways.”
“That one’s the best long spear for your height; we can try a short one you can wield one-handed.
They are trickier to wield and somewhat lack power compared to the longer one.”
Septimus nodded.
“Sure, I’ll try that one too.
Can I ask why no one else is using spears?
I watched people train, and no one’s using them”
Vilkas answered from inside the shed.
“They don’t suit the Nord way of fighting; they are a lot more common with the Bretons and are somewhat used by the Imperials.
Here, we prefer strong steel and power.”
“Alright then, I assume you also mastered the spear then.
How would you rate it?”
“I have, although it’s one of my weakest weapons.
I do know someone who could give you some tips.
As for my opinion on them, they are a solid weapon, easy to learn but hard to master.
Also, if you prefer the short variety, it can be paired with a buckler, or something.
Try to avoid large shields; the weapon focuses on speed and agility.”
Vilkas walked out of the shed carrying a stick that reached Septimus’s shoulder.
“This one should be good.
Let me show you how to position, bend your knees, always stay mobile, never take attacks head-on.
We’ll go into different stances and movements later; for now just figure out how to stab.”
And so he did; for several hours he just stabbed at a training dummy, Vilkas had left at some point and only returned to call him to dinner.
Tonight, Septimus sat with the other trainees; to his left sat a Nord man named Torvar and to his right an imperial woman named Ria.
“So, how was your first day, Septimus?
Have you decided on what weapon you will focus on?” Ria asked while chewing on bread.
“It was fine.
I didn’t choose it as much as Vilkas insisted it suited me.
Also, nice to see a fellow imperial in the companions; let’s get along from now on.”
Ria looked at him, puzzled.
“What do you mean?
When I joined, I just said I want to use a sword; they watched me swing for a bit, then gave the ok, how did it go for you?”
Septimus then proceeded to explain the process he went through to choose a weapon.
Torvar, now paying attention to the conversation, commented at the end.
“So what you’re saying is that you’re bad at swinging but good at stabbing, so you’re stuck with a spear; might as well give up and join the thieves guild then!” He shook his head disapprovingly.
“Can’t even swing a sword properly!”
Septimus shrugged.
“Well, what about you then?
Torvar took a swig of his Nord mead and looked at Septimus.
“It could be; don’t need much else to beat your pointy stick, but just cause you asked, I prefer axes and maces.”
“Ahh, of course, that way when this whole companion business doesn’t work out you can still moonlight as a lumberjack, smart.”
Torvar bristled.
“Watch it, new blood.
I’ve been here for half a year now, ill show you exactly what you’re up against at training.”
Feeling the situation tensing up, Ria intervened.
“Altright, relax, we’re shield brothers and sisters now.
If you want to fight, do it on a mission.”
Septimus turned to look at Ria.
“Talking of missions, have you been on many, and what are they usually?”
“I’ve been on a few.
They pair us up at first, a companion and a couple of trainees; the ones I’ve been on are mostly queling disputes, like tavern fights, and dealing with petty criminals and the occasional wild animal in town.”
“So you’re acting as guards then?”
Ria shook her head.
“No, we’re mercenaries in the end; at tavern fights we get hired to make up numbers.
I’ve heard stories of sometimes both sides hiring companions, and they end up brawling with each other.”
“So they hire you before the fight even starts?”
“Well, yes, and no, sometimes they plan it; other times it’s revenge, or as they call it, defending their honour”.
She laughed.
After they finished their meal, the trainees still hung around the great hall, talking; Septimus did the same, trying to mingle with his shield brothers.
Some time later, Vilkas came up from downstairs and called him over.
“I told you I know someone who can teach you a trick or two when it comes to spear.
Come, I’ll introduce you.”
Septimus followed Vilkas downstairs.
They went past the barracks and into the area only allowed to the companions; it was similar to the game but much larger, a giant underground cellar with dozens of rooms.
“Here we are.
This is the archive; here we keep journals of old companions and request forms for completed missions.
Come in.”
Inside was an underground library; it looked clean, but the piles of paper to the side made him suspicious of how organized it actually was.
Seeing Septimus eye the pile of papers, Vilkas sighed.
“That’s where the members drop the forms at; it’s better for them to leave it there and for someone else to organize it later.”
Deeper inside was another door.
Vilkas walked up to it and knocked.
He waited for a moment, then opened the door and entered, Septimus following him in.
Inside the room was a man Septimus instantly recognized; even if he looked different from the game, the first impression of the man could be summarized in one word: old; he both looked and felt old; he had snow-white hair, with braided hair and beard; he wore the companion armour although it looked much too large on him, time took its toll on his roid muscles.
‘That’s the leader of the companions; no wonder he dies in the game, he looks like he has one foot in the grave already.’
Vilkas stood to one side.
“Septimus, meet Kodlak Whitemane, Harbinger of the companions, legendary warrior and an avid weapon collector.”