Euotioa: Fallen Lands Draft Chapter One

Euotioa: Fallen Lands

Draft Chapter One

         Penelope drew a labored breath as she brought the sword in front of her chin. Her mind was ran rampant with tactics while she watched the dwarf circle her. His weapon was also raised and though he jutted it forward in her direction, it was only to confuse her even further. "Good Penny, good stance!" said the Dwarf. "But keep your back sword raised." In an instant, he swung forward. Penelope darted backwards while cursing. She had forgotten the sword she also held in her right hand as well. She drew another breath in a defensive stance; this time, neither hands were limp. The fight had now past the point of planning. Penelope strutted forward to attack.

         Her arms flailed, slashing with her right hand and stabbing with her left. She even spun in a counterturn, trying to confuse her opponent. WHACK, WHACK, WHACKWHACK. With ever clash of the wooden swords, there came a pang of anguish in the back of her mind. The Dwarf laughed, "Come now girl, you're flailing! You're flailing! Arms taught, like this! Or this." The Dwarf had sidestepped her, now presenting his own strikes. He wasn't as fast as a human, but his hits were direct and strong as a Dwarf would hit. Penelope had her arms brought closer as he jabbed closer to her chest. She wanted to strike, but he left no time for either hand to attack. Frustrated, she stepped forward with a growl, clashing both swords together. As luck would have it, the Dwarf's blade was also caught in between, just inches above her nose. "Very good Penelope. Not a great situation...but good." With just one hand he began slowly pushing their swords toward her heart. "You've placed your bets with that move, kiddo. Make something of it!" Penelope grunted, still trying to outmatch his strength. Her eyes darted below the dwarf's as he grinned ever so confident. He wasn't looking after his own defense, so close to the brink of victory. Penelope freed her left hand, leaving the right to do the heavy lifting. She slashed out in the Dwarf's direction...but he saw it a mile away. The blade was withdrawn to his shoulder, then pushed into Penelope's chest. "Ooof!" she cried. The swords were wooden, but still packed a punch. The Dwarf laughed as she stumbled to the ground, clutching her abdomen. "Dead, I'm guessing." he added, taking a seat on the grass next to her.

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Penelope drew another handful of water to wash her face. She looked into the rippled waves and saw a young girl with long, bright blonde hair and blue eyes. She was good looking like her father, but that was the only, if more general comparison they had in common. She had a few bruises, mostly around her ears from where Ansel had whacked her with those damned swords. "They stick out like Elvish ears," he had once told her. "We can tie up your hair, but if you want to fight, I think wearing a big helmet would be beneficial." He was joking of course. Penelope was an excellent pupil, even for a girl. She had the perfect body for fighting; fast calves for movement, bulky arms and torso, with just the right weight for dodging and parrying. She fit into most men's armor,(the few times Ansel had snuck her into a body armor shop) and could wield mostly anything. "You know, I think it's the dual swords." she heard behind her. Ansel sat by the brooks, tightly gripping her wooden weapons. "They don't feel right in my hands. Too narrow, not enough heft." he said. Penelope strode over, plucking each from his hands. "I told you, they're a good fit! The best fit." she said, practicing her swordplay. "Besides, what would you know? All I see in books is Dwarves with broadswords and greataxes." "Yes, and scimitars, and spears, and the dreaded halberds." said Ansel. "We were even great with bow and arrows before guns came into use. My point being that I don't want you learning a fool's way of fighting Penny. You're better than that."
         Penelope laughed, then took a swig from Ansel's flask. "I know I'm better. You cheated just then, you know that?" Ansel's brow furrowed. "Cheated? How did I cheat?" "You tricked me into attacking. I should have rolled out and started anew, but you knew I would leave myself open if I kept at it." Ansel threw the girl her swords. She caught them in an expert fashion. "Course I lied to you girl. How do you think fighting is in the real world? Shall I send an angel to come sit on your shoulder, parlaying all my shit I'm going to spew in your ear?" There was silence. Penelope eyed him over while preparing her next words. Ansel was a good fighter, but if there was anything Dwarves were as good at, it was arguing. "All I'm saying is...this is practice, right?" she said. "Yes, this is practice. Practicing for a real fight." he retorted. Penelope rose, standing over him. "And just when am I going to see real combat? I've barely held a real sword and I'm tired of bearing splinters in my ass!" "Better splinters than scars girl. Trust me." The Dwarf said. He went to refill the flask with water from the brook. "You'll wield a sword, a real one. In time."
         After the break, the two began their practice once more. Penelope performed better, but her malice continued to grow towards her situation. Ansel was a good teacher, a warrior, just like herself. Her deepest conscious brushed the idea of him being her father, but the thought quickly grew into nonsense. Dwarvish offspring were usually in proportion to the Dwarf, no matter which gender the parent was. She couldn't see herself coming from his line. He had dark black hair like her father, but it was too curly, not straight like her own. He looked younger than most dwarves, old enough to look like her father. Dwarves appearances deceive others, however, and Ansel was fifty years old, while looking around thirty. Despite all these discrepancies, she took to questioning Ansel when their next break came. "Ansel, who do you think my father is?" Ansel sighed, wiping the sweat off his wide forehead. "I imagine he's a drunkard, the way you parry." She punched him while he giggled, hard. He barely brushed it off with his strength. "I'm serious, dammit. Uncle Dom has had his mouth shut about it since I was born." "I dunno Penny. Maybe he has a good reason to keep it from you." The answer was sincere this time, but it didn't fill the void of questions in her head. She tried a different route.
         "Do you know where your father is?" Ansel lay across the grass staring into the clouds. It was midmorning, sporting a bright Euotioan sky. "I don't know where he is. Last I heard he was moving back to Southern Euotioa, near Girardeau maybe." he said. "Damn it's hot. I'm glad to be in Hommelfelle this time of year. Can't imagine how those southerners stand the heat!" Ansel's eyes fell upon Penelope; she wore a pensive face, waiting for an ansewer. Ansel sighed; "My geuss is he's moving back to the Impassable Mountains. He came home cross one evening, something about no respect at his shop." "Your father was a baker, right?" "Yes, that he was. Well, not originally. He used to be a miner, but there was too many of those where I'm from." Ansel broke to refill the water pouch once more. "To be honest, there's not many professions a Dwarf can have pride in." Ansel continued. "There's mining, then there's fighting...I suppose a little of both of those when you clear out spider caves. Smithing is still good, although like I said, too many of those...". "What about being a king?" "Oh there's no more of those Penny. We've long been past ruling over our own kind."
         Penny joined him by the brook. She bent down, letting her open toes dig up the mud. "I can't live my life under Uncle Dom's wing," she said. "I'm sick of being caged inside the city gates like an animal. I want to see the world, fight my own battles, like the Dwarves!" "Hmmm, I think your needs are a little bit different than a Dwarf's girl." Ansel grabbed a rock, then simply dropped it into the water. "Dwarves like staying put. We only moved because the Gods asked it of us. And well other reasons." Penny stood, wiping her feet and preparing her boots. "What other reasons?" she asked. Ansel blushed, scratching his head. "Well, some Dwarves have...aspirations they like fulfilling. When the gold mines dry up, you try your hand collecting it in cities. Or when you can't compete with the best smiths, you fight and forge where a bunch of dopey humans, those who can't tell real steel from a clay chamber pot. And when your done fucking all the girl's your height and age...your heart sets out for a taller variety."
         Penny gave him a wry smile, tossing him his extra cloak. "You'll need a lotta gold for that, the way you look." Ansel roared with laughter. "You kidding me Penny? I don't need money. I have experience! You ever seen a Dwarvish girl? They may be shorter, but they have tits the size of cannonballs!" Penelope giggled as Ansel pantomimed himself being smothered in breasts. "Come on, let's go down to Lucid Fawn," Ansel said, gathering his things. "I'll tell you all about my Dwarvish girls. Be nice and I may even give you a few pointers before some poor lad of yours does." Penelope punched him, much harder. Now the Dwarf gave a sharp cry to go along with his harsh laughter.