Galahad's Training

[Galahad of Pelles]

Lesson 1. Brutality

Galahad gritted his teeth together as his cheek made contact with the solid dirt ground beneath him. Blinking the stars away from his eyes he took a moment to catch his breath barely registering Arthur's voice from above him.

"You must remember the second hand, Galahad." He exclaimed. Galahad remained silent as he placed two hands from under his body and pushed upward back onto his feet. Nodding his head once to Arthur he turned back to his opponent. He was a tall man with a weather beaten face and short scraggly beard. A more experienced assassin and more in control with his own skill than the new starry eyed recruits. The lesson, as painful as it may feel, was to teach the recruits how to deal with the pain they would most certainly experience in future missions. It was naive to assume every enemy they were to encounter would fight honorably and they needed to understand the necessity to adapt in such a situation for it may cost them their lives.

The tall assassin lurched forward making Galahad jump back. Quicker than what seemed possible the long blunt sword swung in a steep arch near his head and Galahad quickly remembered what they had been taught earlier in the morning. Ducking down he moved in the opposite direction of his opponent's arm before jumping up and hooking his arm around the assassin's shoulder, trapping the sword arm. But before he could do anything the second arm reached over and wrapped around his neck placing his head within an unbreakable headlock. Then the other man's fist connected sharply with his ribs making Galahad double over and vulnerable. It was shortly after he found himself promptly on the ground clutching his stomach gasping for breath.

Dazed he stared at the cloud of dust as it exploded through the air, the small huffs of his breath disrupting the fine particles on the ground. The sun beat down on the men in the training field and Galahad felt the pestering sweat run down the back his neck and for a moment he remained on the ground precisely where he was happy to finally be able to regain the ability to breathe once more.

Arthur sighed pursing his lips at the downed man. His most recent recruits were dropping like flies and it was to be certain Camelot's physician was not going to be happy with his highness for sending so many bruised men to his care. But the men had to learn what was to be expected from their role, as the veterans helping teach the young had, or they would surely not last long. Turning to the closest of his men he directed his head over to Galahad. "Take him to Gaius."

But with a grunt of pain Galahad stood up, an arm wrapped around his stomach, as he pinned a long stare at his opponent. His ankle gave way and he stumbled but quickly regained his footing and moved back into position preparing for another attack.

The second hand Galahad reminded himself dropping his arms down with his fist clenched. He has two hands.

With a shrug the man before him raised his sword once more in his right hand. The two quietly circled each other before he lunged forward at Galahad, sword swinging in yet another graceful arc. Galahad stepped back and dropped down before stretching upward and locking his arm around the left shoulder of the man. When the arm with the sword swung back Galahad swiftly grabbed his opponent's wrist feeling the strain against his grip. Pressing his thumb in the line of the man's wrist the sword was immediately dropped from the numb hand and Galahad kicked the sword away with his foot.

The older man scowled in concentration and suddenly Galahad was flipped off his feet and onto the ground with the man on top of him. They rolled disturbing the dust and dirt into masses of dark clouds as each man reached for the advantage: the sword. Pinning Galahad's wrists to the ground halting their tumble the man pressed his knee into the younger man's chest emitting a sharp breath from Galahad. But Galahad relaxed his hands and slipped them through the pin and wrapped his arm like a snake around the man's neck, reenacting the similar headlock he had been in before. Both men on their knees, the younger lifted his leg up ramming his knee in sharply into the older man's sensitive exposed stomach winding him. Galahad jumped back and grasped the sword's hilt before raising it against the man's neck his chest heaving in heavy pants.

Galahad's heart pumped the precious blood he need to survive loudly in his ears and he blinked quickly as the adrenaline wore off, his vision flickering. Holding out a shaking to the man below him he pulled his former opponent up into a standing position and gave a courteous handshake. The young recruit then turned to the prince, his eyes wincing against the blistering sun.

Arthur lifted a brow. Galahad composed himself, saving the pain for later. That had been after all the lesson. Survival first. Pain later.

866

[Prince Arthur Pendragon]

Excellent post!
Accepted, feel free to add your new rank to your signature and continue training when ready!

PS: sorry for the delay!

[Galahad of Pelles]

Lesson 2. Precision

Galahad pulled the string tight, his fingers barely touching the corner of his lips. He eyed the target with one strong confident look before releasing the arrow from it's string and allowing the wooden shaft to launch into the arrow while he watched it land... promptly in bushes.

His shoulders deflated, his usually prestige posture slouched, and he let out a rather undignified noise of annoyance. Had he been with the rest of the recruits he would never had done such a sound but he was alone (or so he thought, he had spent the entire day focused on the target it became his only focus and he wouldn't have noticed or at least cared at that moment if someone else was there.) Galahad found a comfortable position in the dirt of the training ground letting his arms hang from his knees. His bow merely acting as a distraction for his hands as it gave a soft twang from it's movements as it played into accompaniment with the crickets and the sounds of nightlife.

He let his hand slowly rub his face, the very discreet stubble on his jaw bristling on his palm. Allow his hand to cup his chin he stared at the target in silent thought. The rest of the recruits, after some time and a few misplaced arrows, had grown accustomed to the weapon and had at least hit the object they were aiming at: the old wood target riddled with holes from the abuse of years of being hit with blunt arrows. But no, not Galahad. He hadn't even hit stupid thing.

Galahad took a calming breath, his eyebrows raising up high on his head.

Maybe Lancelot was right. What was it he had said... flying with wings badly? Sighing he stood placing the wood of the bow into his left palm and reaching to grab an arrow with his right. Notching the arrow he pulled the string to the corner of his mouth, his hand at his jaw. The muscles in his back flexed as he took aim at the target. With one deep breath he let the arrow release with a loud whistle.

...

Nothing. Galahad sighed dropping his head. Why was this so difficult?If his arrow could fly badly with wings then it certainly had to be blind as well! His determination had let him stay out on the training course into the late hours but so far all he had done was waste arrows. He had done everything, everything, they had told him. He had did everything the exact same way the rest of the recruits had done it. He had taken the bow into his left hand and pulled the arrow back with his right. He had held the breath. His feet were fine. His arrow was most certainly placed in the right direction.

Starting to pace back and forth, slow thoughtful steps, he glared daggers at the target, his eyes showing the intense annoyance as something had snapped after the last arrow. His patience was completely gone now. He hadn't had any trouble when throwing knives. He had picked those up quick, the blades feeling perfectly balanced in his palm before he would throw them at his intended target. But these arrows wanted to kill him.

He was ranting again. He knew it. He didn't care but out of habit he took a deep breath and place his hands together, as if to pray, in front of his face, his thumbs into the sensitive skin under his chin and quickly calmed himself. Staring ahead at the target his brain tiredly worked to understand what he was precisely doing wrong. And then he saw it.

Furrowing his brow he shut his right eye and looked at the target. Quickly blinking and switching different eyes, his left eye now shut and his right eye open. The target moved. Not physically but enough that if he looked strictly out of his right eye as he had been then the target looked like it was further to his left. But with his left eye the target didn't move at all. Galahad looked down at his hands and stared at them blankly.

He was left handed. He had been firing the bow right handed.

Placing his hands on his hips, he nodded looking at the target feeling utterly stupid. Picking up the bow he looked at it and flipped it around, grabbing an arrow and notching it, his left hand pulling at the string. The muscles in his arm were less strained than his right and he held the string to his jaw with more ease. Slowly releasing the tension on the string he looked at the target then at his bow once more before taking aim and swiftly releasing the arrow. Instead of a loud whistle the arrow left the string in silence until there was a loud thunk.

The eyebrows on Galahad's forehead shot up as he stared at the target, his arrow held fixed deeply in the center.

His eyes light up as his lips twitched into a smile. Galahad let out a joyous laugh, clapping his hands together once in victory before he quickly went to collect his spent arrows.

873

[Prince Arthur Pendragon]

Accepted!

You know the score by now, feel free to post again when you wish and you may now update your signature.

[Galahad of Pelles]

Lesson 3. Healing

UMPH Galahad was pulled from his muses as his wrist pulled sharply up into his jaw.

"Sorry!" Victor, the recruit he was paired with, apologized.

"No, no. Victor, you must bind the arm to his chest before you tighten." Gaius said moving over to the pair and placing a firm hand on Galahad's arm, securing it to his chest with one skilled hand. "It would be pointless to choke yourself with a broken arm."

"A most undignified way to go." Galahad lightly jested seeing Victor once again curse under his breath as he became once again lost in his knotting of the sling.

Galahad smiled softly in amusement at the site around him: large burly men fumbling around each other, various bandages tramping each others limbs in strange angles.

Loud complaints had erupted from the men in the morning as they had been lead in the middle of a large meadow early, way before the sun had made an appearance, the sky a soft navy, only to find out they were spending the day learning the art of basic healing.

A sharp, "Would you prefer to know how to live after being stabbed or die in the woods to be eaten by animals?" from Gaius had been enough to cease all complaining. Galahad, tired as he may been from training and far less observant than he should have been at that hour of the morning, could have sworn he saw a twinkle of amusement flash in the elder physician's blue eyes after the color had drained from several of the more young gullible recruits' faces at the thought of being eaten by wildlife in the forest.

To be honest it had been a rather relaxing day as Galahad had allowed his mind to wonder into the depths of his brain while Victor attempted to sling his "broken" arm. When his arm was finally released from his restraint Victor plopped down to the ground in victory and passed the starch fabric to Galahad. His partner taking a more dramatic role, held his arm tightly in his grasps clearly distressing to Galahad he had injured his arm.

"To think Galahad, if this knight business doesn't end well I could become a performer instead." Victor joked as Galahad's deft fingers probed Victor's arm.

"You certainly had me convinced." Galahad replied moving onto the next step as he began wrapping the arm before angling Victor's hand upwards and pinning the arm to his chest. All had gone well until suddenly to two tips of the fabric had met in front of Victor instead of one being up front with the other to the back of his neck for them to be tied. Sighing in frustration he wrapped the bandage and started again. Victor laughed but said nothing as Gaius had moved to stand in the center of the group again.

"The most serious incident you gentlemen will face is poisoning. Whether it is from a wound or a hidden curse in your food." He said lifting a vial filled with a dark purple color. "This is the most deadliest of them all. Mors Certa. You won't have any sign of symptoms until a total of three days after you have ingested this draft. Then as if to appear out of nowhere you will suffer from intense stomach cramps, fever, and muscle spasms. You lose complete control. It is as if your body has turned on you completely and because it takes so long to actually affect its victims when these symptoms begin it is only a short while before the final stage has set in. By then there is nothing that can be done. Death is certain."

A short pause fills the small group and Galahad stops for a moment in his attempts to sling Victor's arm. The thought of ones body sends a harsh tension among the men.

"It is more than likely you will suffer at least one type of poisoning." Gaius adds sending each of the men a serious piercing look. "Some to that extreme. Others not so. One can never tell beforehand."

Again silence and Galahad quietly clenched his jaw, the other men showing brief subtle signs of distress before schooling their features once more as they had learned.

Then as if he hadn't essentially described their possible impending doom Gaius pulled up a small leather satchel and pulled out a dried brown roll of leaves.

"Now, when you first begin to notice any signs of poisoning due to a wound you will want to clean it with this. Hot water." He said. Galahad once again undid his wrapping of Victor's arm and began a third time.

"You could begin to feel a fever, the spot of the wound is tender, or discoloration that spreads along the skin. For an example if James received an arrow wound to the shoulder, and I digress that an arrow head is more than likely been dipped in poison, his skin along his shoulder may become swollen and hot to the touch as well as black and green in color." Gaius explained. Pulling out a green dried leaf from his pouch he continued, "You will eventually gain a fever. I want you all to take a whiff of this. This leaf is named aduro. It is distinguished by its sharp scent."

Galahad ceased his binding for a moment and pulled the leaf from his own pouch and sniffed the leaf. Not expecting the sudden smell his nose twitched making his eyes water.

"It's like a strong peppermint." Victor stated his nose wrinkled as well.

"Precisely." Gaius stated. "You can easily suck on this or crush the leaf and place into hot water. But I warn you that you should wait to use aduro only when you are in safety of a camp or resting place because this will make you incredibly drowsy."

Placing the leaves back into his bag, Galahad furrowed his brow concentrating back onto Victor's arm.

"Time will only tell when it comes to poison. But acting quicker is the better." Gaius finished. "Now, who is still having trouble with the leg splints?"

After some time the men had began to curse loudly in frustration and the tension seemed to leave as quick as the day seemed to have progressed.

"Do you suppose he's right?" Victor asked quietly looking away from Galahad.

"What? Being poisoned?" Galahad spoke. Victor remained silent but that merely answered for the recruit. Biting on his cheek in thought Galahad started his binding again, his irritation for not being able to do it properly set back for him to think. He was aware of the risks as was Victor. Galahad didn't exactly want to die with his body no longer being in his control, his muscles spazzing out of control and his fever high enough to make him delirious. But...


Wiping any further discussions that were taking place within his mind he undid the fabric around Victor's arm and started one last time, remaining silent until finally he pulled a tight knot keeping the other's arm immobilized, the binding tight and resolute.

"Yes." He answered sitting back and looking at his work. "Yes, he's probably right."

1203

((RP for Gaius with permission from Prince Artie. And again SORRY for the delay! I hate it when I'm sick.))

[Prince Arthur Pendragon]

This is excellent! I really like your different take on training- not many people choose to cover healing and you made it interesting too!

Well done!