Page 539: Get It All Out
Get It All Out
Summary: Out in the training ground, Daryl needs to get some things out of his system after the latest news from Tanglewood Manor. And then Robben shows up…
Date: 13/01/2013
Related Logs: The events around the Ashwood/Erenford betrothal.
Daryl Erik Robben 
Training Ground, Tanglewood Manor
Set slightly below the standard ground level, in a wide, shallow pit, the training grounds are relatively spartan, flanked by the exterior barracks building and the protective outer wall of the Keep. Thick posts have been set deeply in the ground at one end of the 'field', wrapped thickly with padding to serve as a makeshift enemy for bladework. At the far side, a few circular targets await archers to assail them. But the space is largely left clear for one-on-one bouts. That is, after all, the best way to learn.
Sunday, January 13 290

The word is out. As night approaches and a certain message has reached Daryl's ears, none have seen him around the manor until now, and even then, he was very discrete upon his entry. Even now, with his reinstated status, he wears plain, ragged pants and dirty well-worn boots. He's standing in front of one of the sparring dummies, the cracks of his strikes echoing throughout the training ground with each strike. Fierce, strong.
The sky has already opened up, and while the night above them is lit with stars, there's a steady rain that pours down. By the look of the recently reinstated Ashwood, he's been out here awhile. The man is soaked. A single, brute strike cuts through the padding of one of the posts and makes a large dent into the wood. It's less practice and more just smashing into the wood.
A couple men at arms help a man with a viciously bruised face as he's escorted away from the training grounds towards the courtyard, looking dazed while his buddies half carry him under each of his arms. Hm. Wonder how that happened.

The word is indeed out and Erik is one of those who have heard of it, which caused the young knight to wince when he received the news. Now, the Jast Knight's first thought was to go find his Deputy at the Ash and Oak but after thinking on it, he realizes that the Ashwood would most likely not be there as this is rather upsetting news. Where Erik would be is the Training Grounds if it had happened to him, which was where the knight had been upon receiving news of Miranda when he returned from the Flint Camp, so that is where he goes.
On the way in, Erik sees the heavily bruised man and shakes his head but does stop them with a word, "Make sure he sees a Maester to confirm that it is nothing worse than physical wounds. And let that be a lesson that more training is needed, real blades do not leave you alive after an exchange that resulted in that." Then with a dismissive nod, the Jast Knight heads deeper in and sees Daryl lashing out at the wooden dummy.

Crack! Thwap! Thunk! The strikes never end, and now he begins to hold the sword with two hands, heaving it in great swings against the post, jaw clenched tight. The boom of thunder covers the sound of his strikes then, and a lightning bolt lights up the sky in miraculous fashion…But Daryl doesn't seem to notice a thing. More knicks and dents cut into the post as he releases his anger, each blow letting out a grunt, despite how fatigued he looks.
Again. Again. Again. "Gaaagggh!" a sideways strike. "Aghhh!" A vertical swing. His chest heaves with exhaustion, his anger and stubbornness pushing his body beyond its limits. With a final, devastating crack of his practice sword, the weapon splinters and snaps, the lower handle half soaring away out of his hands, the upper half clattering beside the pole in a couple pieces. Another booming sound of thunder as Daryl lunges forward, almost falling as he attempts to catch his breath, bulging arms grasping the practice pull as he braces himself on it, eyes closed and only able to suck in deep breaths of air. What more could be taken from this man? Or the remnants thereof? …What would his sister think.
"Yes Ser," The men respond as they pass, the dazed man unable to give much of a response as he more or less is dragged into the courtyard.

For the time being, Erik just leaves his Deputy out there venting his anger and energy into the wooden target, certainly not objecting though with the rain coming down, the other noble could catch a cold. When the practice weapon breaks and it looks like Daryl is now spent of energy, the Jast Knight steps out to the training yard itself, apparently not caring if he is also soaked from the rain. "You're lucky that target can't fight back, you had openings left and right, /Lord/ Daryl." He does hold a hand in case there was an immediately reply coming, "But, sometimes it is best just to unleash without thought. What's done is done, remember that. And remember what you told me yesterday, what your sister wanted you to learn. We do and accept decisions on what is best for the House." His voice is clear and steady, more neutral than anything else, he isn't here to chastise his Deputy or teach.

Daryl clings to pole with what remaining strength he has left, eyes clenched shut as his temple is pressed against the practice pole which now has a variety of damage to it, the padding torn and soaked, and where it is, deep divots and nicks set into the wood. He can do little but just inhale, refreshing his body with much needed air and rest. "Gods DAMN IT!!" He yells angrily towards the skies, as if opposing the seven themselves.
And as if the were replying, the sky luminates with another streak of white lightning, which pierces and branches across the dark canvas of the night, followed by a rumbling booming thunder roar. Daryl unclasps himself from the dummy, eyeing his hands and finally noticing the long bloody scrapes and cuts that line them from such vicious, repetitive swinging. He turns, slowly…And stares at the Jast knight some ways from him. A moment of silence, until thunder claps again. "…What's done is done…?" A few more breaths. "…Is that what you just said?" Waiting a single moment further to regain his strength, the Deputy starts marching straight for the Sheriff, his eyes aflame with anger… Frustration… Despair.

"That is what I said, Lord Daryl. These decisions are not ours to make, it is made for the good of the House." That is repeated once more as Erik watches Daryl advance on him, smirking at he knows that the other man may be in the mood for a tussle and fight. If it is what his Deputy wishes, then so be it. His own shirt is of course getting wet but the Jast Knight takes no notice, eyes fully focused on Daryl now.

Daryl cranes his head away, his features darkening as if he cannot believe what the Jast is saying. While deep down he may know it to be true, and he may've even spoke such things recently… But now? Now he wasn't ready to hear it yet. There's a long chuckle, a shake of his head. It's not the happy kind. Slowly, the Deputy just turns without a word, moving to the side and gathering two practice swords, one clenched tightly in his hand, the other held loosely. He steps towards the Sheriff, that fury still in his eyes. He wasn't mad at his friend…But…What other man was around for him to truly release it on. The last one had his face broken. He tosses the practice sword at Erik's feet, just a little ways behind him before he moves to give the man a one handed shove. Nothing too brawny, but a challenge. He turns and takes a few steps back, his voice grinding out in a growl, "…Pick it up." His chin is tense, and his anger can be seen returning as his strength does. Another series of bolts streak. Daryl just waits with his sword in hand, soaked…Green orbs a lit with the likeness of the Stranger himself.

Practice blades, certainly not what Erik had expected as he looks from the blade on the ground back to Daryl, shaking his head. "If that is what you wish, but I won't be holding back." Certainly not after seeing that Daryl didn't hold back against the other guy who’s face was all bloody. Turning around, he leans down to pick up the wet practice blade before gripping it in hand, once, then twice, to find a comfortable hold. He then moves to the practice ring where his Deputy is waiting for him and after a practice swing or two, the arrogant smirk appears. "Last chance to back out, Lord Daryl. Your pride is damaged, might as well save your body from falling to the same state."

It would seem that with all that has happened lately, Robben has decided it's time to get some weapons practice done again. So he's making his way out to the training ground now, looking around for a few moments before trying to decide what to do.

It's raining steadily out right now, lightning bolts shooting across the sky while clouds begin to come in large swathes, covering any glimpse of the stars that were previously visible. Daryl is shirtless, and completely soaked, clutching a practice sword as he watches Erik move for the sparring arena first. It seems the Deputy wants to let out a bit of aggression. Daryl just shakes his head at Erik with another grinding, low chuckle, about to head over towards the Jast when he peeks over his shoulder and spots his younger cousin. There's a look to the Sheriff. And then Robben. The practice sword drops from his grip as the Deputy starts for the man who is set to be marrying his former betrothed, jaw tight and his gaze unrelenting. It's a quick stride, but not jogging, just steady. He offers no words as of yet.

When it looks like Daryl is about to attack, Erik waits with anticipation, apparently more than willing to go a few rounds with his Deputy as the young knight is rather confident in his own skills, in spears and blades. But when his opponent's attention is diverted, the pleased look turns into a frown, following the other man's gaze. Seeing who it is, the Jast Knight fully understands and is already on the move just as Daryl makes his. Catching up to the other man, Erik reaches out with a strong grip to his Deputy's shoulders and pulls his back towards the ring, /hard/, perhaps enough to throw him a few stumbling paces away, "Do what you want to do /in/ the ring. Not out. And pick up your fucking sword." Erik then turns to Robben who is watching from the side, apparently undecided and unsure. With the practice blade in his hand, the young knight tosses the wooden blade to the other Ashwood noble, "Take it and go, seems like there are some issues to work out."

There's a pause as Robben's gaze falls on Daryl, and he looks quite unsure about what to do when he sees his cousin's reaction to him. "Daryl…" he offers, voice a bit quiet, before he pauses a bit at Erik's actions. Stepping slightly to the side as the practice blade is thrown to him, he lets it fall to the ground, before he moves to pick it up again. Nodding a little bit, "Unless you object, cousin?" he offers to Daryl, words a bit firmer now, as he steps over towards the ring.

Daryl glares daggers at Robben, even as he stumbles back some from the interception, he presses again for Robben, colliding with Erik as he is again blocked off. "-You- did this!!" He barks angrily, constantly kept at bay from the Jast as he shouts over his shoulder with malice at his younger cousin, "You've wanted her all along, you fucker!" His roaring anger can be heard both over the sound of rain and occasional thunder. "Pick it up, gods damn it!" As Robben does so, Daryl hurries to his sword, the shirtless Deputy apparently eager to get things underway as he clutches it within an already sore and cut hand. As more rain pours down, he marches for the ring, his gaze never leaving Robben, a look of loathing. Anger…But not hate. The Ashwood takes one side of the ring and tightens his jaw. Giving him fair enough time to ready himself, but little more, Daryl will lunge forward with a strike of his sword towards the other man's chest with an angry grunt.

Erik's role here now is to just make sure things are fair and that both Daryl and Robben both have a weapon in hand before what is suppose to be a sparring match begins. When it begins and it doesn't appear that there will be shenanigans for a moment, the Jast Knight goes to fetch his own weapon, a training spear, an added armament to help him keep watch and keep the other two in line in case things get out of hand. Sometimes to settle a heated dispute or just to let of steam, this has to happen, but under appropriate supervision, which Erik has appointed himself as tonight. The rain coming down certainly doesn't bother him as his eyes are now focused on the two fighters.

"Daryl…" Robben begins again as he hears the words, grimacing a bit now. "For what it's worth… I'm sorry it had to be like this. But I did not do this." Not denying that he's wanted the lady in question, though. Stepping the rest of the way over towards the ring now, getting ready for the incoming strike. Which comes a bit more forcefully than he expected, and although he tries to deflect it, he takes most of the hit to his chest. Taking a few steps back there's a quick breath, before he adds, "I know you're upset…" A brief pause, before he moves forward, attempting for a swing to Daryl's sword arm now.

Looks like someone's been practicing. As Daryl's strike collides true, there's no smile of satisfaction, no grimace from the thud, no reaction to the rain emptying from the heavens down upon him, deaf to the thunder that echoes within the keep for a good few seconds. There is just a focused, determined anger. As if he was letting out all the pent of turmoil within him, from the loss of his title, (now regained)…To the loss of his family, his dear sister…To the removing of his betrothal…His wife to be handed over to his little cousin with such little warning. It's all being emptied, here. Now. On his own flesh and blood unfortunate enough to be within his path. As Robben swing comes, Daryl's sword comes down quicker, smashing his cousin's sword into the dirt before it has a chance to touch him. There's no hesitation, no holding back as the Deputy moves to quickly counter a powerful strike to Robben's exposed ribs. "-Fuck- you!' He seethes back through clenched teeth, "Why?!" He roars, as if it was the opposing man's fault. Blinded with rage.

Erik is not only making sure the fight is done properly without any underhanded business but he is also studying each of the men's attacks and defenses, footwork, the usual to keep in mind for the future. Either to help them improve, or use against them, whichever would come up first. Despite Daryl being emotional, the Jast Knight sees that his Deputy is more skilled with the blade, now the question is whether his lack of emotions will be his downfall in this match.

Robben doesn't manage to get his sword up again in time to avoid that strike, and he lets out a bit of a pained grunt as the sword makes contact with his ribs. One hand going to wipe at his eyes very briefly, before he tries to strike once more, this time a quick slash for the ribs as well. "Why? You should ask yourself the question, Daryl. It was you who fucked up, after all…" A brief grimace, as he keeps from saying much more, stepping back a little after his slash is delivered.

The wind picks up some, shifting and altering in random course as it invisibly envelops and flows around the keep, pushing the rain at almost a sideways angle, splattering against the bare chest of the Deputy and everything else around them. As Daryl hears Robben's words, his eyes narrow in fury. "You little -SHIT-! I'll break you in two!" He knew it was true. Perhaps it is why he is so lost to his emotion, and Robben is simply the target to take it out on. As the incoming strike from his younger cousin approaches, it is close, but the newly reinstated Lord squeezes his sword in to parry before it contacts, and then lowers himself into a spin on his heel, slashing an upwards diagonal strike at the backside of Robben's leg, on the other side of his kneecap, lifting as he does so in an attempt to sweep the other man's feet out from under him. "Come on!" He taunts, "Aemy needs a -man-! Not a -BOY-!" Erik can notice there is form there, but it is a bit sloppy with the lack of focus as he cleaves with great strength rather than deft skill.

"Bring it on, cousin," Robben offers, words kept rather quietly. "If you can't handle the truth…" He moves to block that strike at the back of his legs, managing to block it as he spins a little as well. "What she needs is someone who can make her happy. Not a moody drunkard…" He may sound a bit harsher than he would do usually, but that might also be to piss Daryl off further, right?" A quick slash for his cousin's knee now.

Daryl remembers to breath, exhaling and inhaling in more balanced, rhythmic rises of his chest. His hands sting from their grip…How long has he been swinging a sword for? He cannot remember. Nor does he care. He needed to rid this mind, his misfortune…Both warranted and set upon him…He could not let it burden him any further, or he would surely break. And indeed Robben's words do their work well. Daryl raises his sword to strike a little too soon, and Robben's slash cracks into his knee, buckling it some, but he remains standing. The Deputy tries to steel himself, focus now after he feels the blow collide. He follows that swing in a vertical slashing motion, moving to arch his practice sword down onto Robben's shoulder.

The words being exchanged by the cousins has Erik smirking but he still does not interfere, apparently pleased that Robben has finally found his footing and his swing as the quieter one is apparently finally getting the upper hand, perhaps both in words and blades. The Jast Knight continues to observe though, to pick out points of fault and whatnot, though the emotional factor is of course there which is an excuse for such poor forms. Poor in his opinion of course.

And this time Robben's ready for the incoming strike. A quick step to the side, and he swings in the direction of his cousin's stomach, trying to add some extra strength in the swing now. "Ah, you saw how the Erenfords were. Like nothing you did would be enough. I know it hurts now, but maybe it was for the best, for you?" It's offered a bit quietly.

As fatigue sets in, Daryl's movements become less wild, less energy overexerted in his strikes and parrying defense. As Robben blocks his previous strike, he nods with gritted teeth, almost urging his opponent on. "Yes…Robben. Just like that." What was he playing at now? Where once he so blindingly raged, now he has calmed as Robben has begun to block- and even counter his malicious swings. The Deputy doesn't answer anymore, raising his sword upwards to send Robben's strike high and wide before again attempting that spinning, sweeping strike low at the man's legs to chop them out from under him.

The change in the flow is of course noted as is the change in Daryl, the wild berserker and tactless attacks apparently changing, changing for the better. Erik isn't surprised of course and knows that if his Deputy continues to become composed, this sparring match may begin to favor Daryl once more. For now, he continues to watch on, not ready to intercede until one side is the clear victor and the other side is unwilling to stop.

Frowning as his strike doesn't hit, Robben hurries to get his sword down to at least block most of the attack. Holding the sword there, he looks straight for Daryl's eyes, if possible. "Look, whatever else I can say, I'm sorry for how this hurts you. But you know how I feel about her too, don't you?" Letting the words hang there for a few moments more, before he swings for Daryl's knees again, a bit quickly.

The rain begins to lighten, and the wind slows some, but it’s still coming down upon them. Soaked, increasingly tired, and having burnt a lot of that rage that so plagued him, Daryl's motions become more fluid and flowing. Heaving great breaths and the occasional wince as the handle of his blade continues to ache at his palms, the Ashwood Lord calmly lowers his blade as it thuds Robben's strike back. "…I know," is all he offers back, before feinting a low strike and then coming around to bring another heavy slash at Robben's ribs once more. He meets his younger cousin's gaze unsteadily.

And this time, Robben follows that feint, and so is unable to block the real swing. There's a brief cry in pain, before he brings back the sword, then swings it with as much force as he can, for Daryl's ribs as well. Payback time, isn't it?

Daryl is visibly exhausted now. He couldn't count how many times he's swung a blade tonight, whether it be at a dummy or Robben himself. He puts the last of his energy into surging forward, catching the other man's strike with his sword, blocking the majority of the hit but part of Robben's strike glances his side. The two come toe to toe…Literally, and Daryl stares the other man in the eyes for a couple seconds, swords locked. Then he drops his practice blade, letting it fall in the muddy dirt at their feet. Arms go around his cousin, almost lifting the other man a tad to support his weight because he knows those rib strikes likely hurt him. With clenched teeth, he speaks over the rain into Robben's ear with a hiss, "Listen to me, now Robben. Hear this for I will only say this -once-…" He takes a couple breaths, one fist thumping the other Ashwood's back as he continues, "Aemy is the most perfect, innocent and good hearted woman I have -ever- met. My first true love. I know you already know this…But she deserves -every- bit of happiness that comes her way. Every -fucking- bit. You will treat her with the utmost respect, love and care that she deserves, for every day you are with her…Learn from my mistakes, Robben…And cherish her for everything she is worth." His breath comes out raggedly, as he tightens the hug, "…She deserves the best…She deserves you." Then, without warning he releases the embrace, one hand pushing Robben away as he spins and moves to silently walk off towards the courtyard, idly spitting off to the side as he moves swiftly, despite the slight limp from where Robben had struck his knee. "…Do not expect me at the wedding." He just continues on, the soaked Deputy not looking back, gaze leveled towards the barracks and courtyard beyond.

The Jast Knight had been watching and was ready to intercede when Daryl actually closes in on his cousin, to what could be a grappling maneuver. But Erik relaxes when it appears that only words would be shared between the two, thumping the butt end of his practice spear into the ground and leaning against it. When the two disengage, Erik would only watch silently as the Deputy appears to have finally released his anger and frustration, as well as most of his energy. When the Ashwood departs, they young noble knight turns his eyes to Robben.

Letting out a bit of a breath as he sees that his strike at least partially hit his cousin, Robben watches the sword dropping. Then blinking momentarily as the other man arms go around him, and there's a brief wince at the pain from those hits he took. Nodding as he hears Daryl's words, he listens rather carefully. "I know she is. And I swear to you I will do everything I can to make sure she gets all the happiness she deserve." It's offered just as quietly, before he hears that last part before he's released. "Thank you, Daryl…" It's offered just as quietly, before he has to work for a few moments on getting his footing. Raising his voice a bit as Daryl moves off. "I know how much it must hurt, Daryl. Believe me. Because it felt like that before." When the news about Daryl's now-broken betrothal was given. Frowning a little as he hears that part about the wedding, he nods a little, with a sigh. "You will be welcome, should you want. Even if we're supposed to expect you or not." Watching his cousin's back as he departs, he lets out a long sigh now. Looking over to Erik after a few moments now, he takes a few deep breaths.