Kapitel 272: Companionship

The woman named 'Jackle' just scoffs at the challenge however, "To best you would imply an actual fight! You'd go down like a sack of stones! I don't even know how you were accepted here in the first place, you empty-headed braggart!"

"Oh, she's got you there Bureld. You just gonna take that? Where's your pride as a man?" a woman with warpaint on her face and wearing hide armour remarks with a smirk, obviously enjoying riling Bureld up.

"Y-you think!?... THAT DOES IT!" the bald Nord exclaims, lunging towards Jackle with wild fists. He was broader and sturdier than Jackle, but obviously lacked her agility and reach. His first few strikes miss, leaving him open to the Orc woman's counterattack.

*Pap! Pap!*

Two jabs to the face cause the Nord to stumble slightly as he attempts to avoid more, his earlier fierce expression changing to one of surprise, caution, and a slight, almost imperceptible fear.

Michael and Vilkas watch as the fight continues, the duo wailing on each other, but it's clear that Jackle is the superior opponent. They both lack any sort of real technique, but they were fast. Jackle might be able to reach Mercer's speeds if given enough training.

"Other new bloods, their tempers run hot, so it's best to let them get it out of their systems... Besides, Bureld could stand to be cut down a peg or two." Vilas remarks with crossed arms.

So they're newbies...? That makes Michael wonder how tough the older Companion members are... "To be honest, I'm surprised to see an Orc here. I thought them and Nords didn't get on well?"

Vilkas shrugs, "Your race doesn't matter to the Companions, as long as your will is strong and your arm is stronger. We would probably have some Cats here too if they weren't barred from the city."

The fight quickly comes to an end, Jackle knocking the wind of the Nord with an uppercut before pulling his head down into a knee strike. The sound of Bureld's nose breaking causes a few to wince, but the rest just cheer and jeer as the fight is concluded.

"Know your betters, Nord. Or you'll only live a short, stupid life." Jackle spits, heading back to her seat and downing her mead, ignoring the few bruises forming on her dull-green skin.

Michael glances at Vilkas, "So, what's this 'test' I'll be taking?"

"I'd usually have you meet the Harbinger, but old Kodlak is out on business, so it falls to me to determine your worth... Come out back, we'll see if your confidence is just arrogance." he says, heading through the hall and out Jorrvasker towards the training grounds.

The other Companions pick up on this and follow, wanting to watch the 'new blood' get the crap kicked out of them. They'd all been through it before, so it was time they laugh at someone else experiencing it. The only one left behind is the unfortunate Bureld, who was still nursing his broken nose.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Outside, Michael is told to leave his weapons on a nearby bench as Vilkas tosses him a blunted steel one. "If you'd prefer something else, take one from there." he says, gesturing at the nearby weapons rack.

Michael shakes his head, "I'll be fine with this... Annnd this." he says while grabbing an extra dagger, presenting a confident face despite the fact he was internally screaming since his Gandalfr runes wouldn't work with training weapons...

"Good, then come, attack me." he says, raising his steel shield while preparing his sword for a counterattack.

As tempted as Michael was to simply Blink Strike behind him, it was obvious this was just a physical exercise. The Companions were mainly Nords, so using magic was a sure-fire way to either get kicked out, or ambushed as you slept...

Michael ignores the jeers of the other Companions as he steps forwards, sword in his right and dagger in his left. He'd never trained with shields before, and he wasn't going to use this opportunity to try. So he decided to dual-wield and see what'd happen... At worst he could just drop one of his weapons.

He marches forwards and steps around Vilkas, only to find the man's defence to be rock-solid. His shield never strayed from Michael, making it almost impossible to actually try to attack him... Fortunately, this wasn't some poncy duelling class with strict rules.

He bounces forward on the ball of his left foot and slams a hard heel into Vilkas' shield. The Companion however just knocks his foot to the side and makes a stab at Michael's ribs, only for it to be blocked by Michael's sword.

With the shield temporarily out of the way, he pushes forwards, keeping Vilkas' sword locked with his own and attempts to stab Vilkas over the shield with his dagger. The man easily ducks back however, bringing his shield back around and slamming it into Michael's arm, causing him to lose his dagger from the impact.

With that, Michael backs away to gather his wits and plan his next moves. Vilkas defences were seriously tough, stronger and more skilled than any shieldbearer he'd seen back in Halkeginia. Not to mention how much stronger the man was compared to the humans of that world.

Michael goes forward for another attack, slamming the hilt of his sword against Vilkas' shield, another counter-attack approaches, but Michael subtly uses Convection to slide slightly to the left. This confuses the man as he'd never encountered such strange movement before, allowing Michael to drop his sword and get an elbow strike into Vilkas' chin, only for the man to tank it like a champ and jab his blade at Michael, the blunt tip of which sticks against his sternum, signalling the end of the spar.

"Alright, that's enough. Good fight." Vilkas states with a nod of approval. "You're far better than what that lot over there did." he says, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the still jeering crowd of Companions. Regardless of Michael showing strength, it was in the Guild's nature to downplay and banter with one another.

"So, am I in?"

Vilkas pats him on the shoulder, "Aye, you're in. Now put away the weapons, I'll show you where you'll be sleeping."