Galin (the beginning)

Galin Ridgewood, the Jhaengot (pron. Yan*go) bastard; was given two options for his sponsoring knight.

Hallean Wexell – The Wexells, while not one of the major ruling families, is one of the most important. They are one of the wealthiest families on the continent as their hills are riddled with gold and silver deposits. Hallean is a bit pompous, and truth be told not much of a warrior; but he has done well in jousting at tourneys. He is taking on the Jhaengot bastard out of the respect his father had for the family patriarch, a man who had done the Wexells years of good service.

Marcus Kefalin – A knight from a cousin-branch of the former ruling Northern family, back before the Aldaires ruled the land. They are a rather minor family now, though; and Marcus is sometimes called “the commoner,” though it is not a name he likes to hear. He has offered to take on the Jhaengot bastard.

Galin dosn't have to think much about his choice. even though Hallean Wexell is the more prominent Galin is much more worried about physical prowess then political power. Marcus Kefalin being of a lower class dosn't bother him in the least, in fact he feels like he will get along much better with him then some pompous prick who cant even hold his own in a fight.
After he makes his decision however there is a twinge of doubt. "maybe I should have gone with Hallean Wexell /after all he does have much more money and political lee way. but how much does a knight have to worry about politics anyway?" he thinks to himself. but his decision has been made and ultimately he beliefs he chose the right one. he probably couldn't deal with Hallean looking down his nose at him for very long. but after all bastards are looked down upon by a large majority of any nobles. he hopes Marcus will be less inclined to do so due to his lesser financial status.

(OOC: im guessing Jhaengot is my family?)

Sir Marcus Kefalin meets Galin in the practice yard, dull practice armer and a blunted battle axe in hand. He is a plain faced man with brown hair and a trimmed brown beard.

"Take up your weapon and we'll get started," he says simply.



(OOC: Yes, Jhaengot is your father's family name. Also, please consult spellcheck on future posts.)

"straight into the action. I'm liking this so far." Galin thinks to himself. He has to cover up a smile of excitement as he picks up a training sword and a shield and readies himself for the upcoming combat. He feels his pulse quicken and his senses sharpen at the sudden release of adrenaline. He wipes the sweat from his brow then turns to Sir Marcus with his blade and shield raised.

The axe comes down hard in an overhand chop and Galin barely gets his sheild up in time, his arm jarring from the impact; before he can react it comes in again, this time bashing into his side. Even with the rounded axe blade the attack does damage, leaving what will surely be a bruis beneath.

Sir Marcus continues with his assault, moving to quickly for Galin to get in more than a few counter attacks. After about an hour of non stop attack it suddenly stops, leaving Galin's ears ringing in the quiet. Both men are breathing heavy and lathered in sweat.

"You faired poorly," he says. "We will try this again tomorrow."

Without another word, the Kefalin knight exited the practice yard leaving his young ward battered and bruised. There were other knights and squires and guards sparring in other areas of the yard as well, but none near by.

Galin was sore. Not just from the bruises and scrapes, he was used to those, but from the fact that he did so poorly. He wasn't used to losing when it came to combat He could take on one of his fathers soldiers with ease. The soldiers weren't true warriors he suddenly realized. They were nothing compared to a knight.

Standing there in the courtyard Galin knew that being a knight was no child's game and he needed practice. Galin started practicing stances and and postures. After that he went to a wooden training dummy and practiced slicing and stabbing techniques. When he got bored with that he scanned the training yard looking for someone who looked on his skill level. when Galin found one he approached him and asked him if he wanted to spar.

"Spar with you?" the armored teen asked in a breaky voice; "Okay."

Galin's opponent is maybe a year younger than him, but of an equal height and with a slight weight advantage; he introduced himself as Bies Logoth, he wore his family sigil on his tunic; a white sword fish in a blue sea under a yellow sky.

He was strong, but not as fast as Galin; though the Jhaengot bastard gets in more hits, the Logoth boy's hits hurt more and for longer.

After some time Beis was called away by an armored man near the edge of the yard.

"Sorry," he said; "I must go now."

Much happier with his performance against the other squire Galin puts his training blade and shield up. He decides that now is a good time to get some breakfast and heads into the dining hall to grab some bread.
On his way there he takes in the sights of the keep and he knows he made the right choice. "This is where im supposed to be."

It takes little time to reach the dining hall. Of all the rooms in the castle, this is among the largest. A great vaulted ceiling stretches high above, beneath it two long tables sit side by side stretching from one end of the room to the other. The kitchens are just beyond the dining hall.

Breakfast is greasy sausage and spiced potatoes. They're cold and not the best looking or smelling things Galin has seen, but it's food and he is hungry.

The hall is somewhat sparsely populated this morning, some half dozen guards sit at one table, a lone blacksmith sits at the far end of the same; and a trio of knights sit at the other table.

While scarfing down the sausages and potato's Galin attempts to listen to any interesting conversations sitting close enough to the Knights to hear anything they might say.
After breakfast he decides to explore the castle a little bit more and starts to walk towards the forge to examine some the weapons.

[OOC: Not so fast, you wandered in the mess hall there's more to be said/done before you leave.]

Galin sits not too far from the knights. Their conversation ends the moment he sits.

"You there, boy;" The eldest of the knights said. He had a receeding black and grey hairline and a black handlebar mustache. He didn't appear to be much of a warrior to look at; but he was a knight so surely there was more to him than he could see. "You're the Jhaengot bastard aren't you?"

"They put you with the Commoner, yes?" asked another knight, a broad shoulderd barrel chested giant of a man asked from behind his thick fire-red beard.

"Come on over closer, lad;" encouraged the third man; a pale skinned blonde man with a smooth shaven face and pale blue eyes. He spoke in a soft almost-whisper of a voice.

[ OOC: sorry i was just trying to make my post longer haha]
"Yes sir I am the bastard and Sir Kefalin has taken me as his squire" Galin says a bit defensivley thinking that they may mean insult with the way that they refer to him as "bastard" and to Keflin as "the commoner". Despite that he walks over to there table.

"That's a good lad," the big burly man with the red beard said; "calling him by his proper name. Don't mind the nickname though, The Commoner is fond of it."

"Aye," the elder of them agreed; "You should call him by it."

"Has he trained you yet?" the third, quiter fellow with the long blond hair asked. "What weapon are you training with?"

"No Sir I don't think he will like that and yes he has trained me I use the sword and shield." Galin is still suspicious. "I'm very sure that he dosnt like being called the commoner if i remember correctly" Galin thinks to himself as he makes sure to look all of them in the eye and stand up straight to show that he is not intimidated despite the fact that he is indeed a bit worried.

"You'll be lucky if you learn how to poke a whore," the bigger man says, laughing at himself.

"That's unlikely, from what I've heard of the man;" the elder knight says, standing. "I will leave you two with the bastard of the North."

"Not me, you won't;" the red bearded one said, standing as well. When the big man stands his sheer size is intimidating; he stands three heads taller than anyone Galin has ever seen; and he is thick like a bull with muscle. He nods his head to the blonde man before walking away, the elder knight following him out of the hall.

Galin is left only with the quiet one. "Don't mind them," he says; "They are bitter and foolish. I am Refis Manitos." He smiles, letting the name sink in. He is well known as one of the best jousters in the land."You've had the pleasure of meeting Sir Jalik Falton and Sir Yorden Utanos; the Red Bear."

"Pay attention to what the Commoner teaches you, he is a skilled warrior."

"Don't worry Sir Iv gotten used to there type" Galin says as he takes a seat at the table. "Why don't Sir Jalik and Sir Yorden have the same respect for Sir Kefalin's combat ability that you do?"

Sir Refis ignores the question, drinks at the last of his soup and heads for the door.

Galin is left alone at his table. The few guards still sit at the other table, some ways down its length.

Galin rapidly eats the last of his food pondering the strange conversation. deciding that he would try and avoid the knights he just talked to he gets up and begins to walk out of the dining hall in the direction of the armory to examine the weapons and armor as well as to talk to the weapon and armor smith to find out what exactly he should try to learn to wield.

The armory is located just outside the castle, not far from the royal stables. A barrel chested man with an ale belly hammers at a new piece of steel when Galin approaches, sparks flying from the molten red blade.

He doesn't look up, but notes your presense. "I'll be with you in a moment," he says, hammering away. "Take a look around while you're waiting." iTING TING TING

On the wall are many variations of sword, daggers and knives, hammers, axes, and maces.

[OOC: google it up and pick what you want. I'm likely to approve just about anything]

Galin is like a kid in a candy store. His eyes light up at all the possibilities. His mind is racing trying to decide what he wants between two different weapons. A sword ( http://www.larpwarrior.com/products/bladesinger-long-sword ) or an Axe ( http://www.thevikingstore.co.uk/larp-gaelic-war-axe-754-p.asp ). After debating it for awhile he goes with the sword. He takes it off the weapons rack and gives it a couple of swings to test out its weight and balance. Finding it extraordinarily balanced he is pleased he turns to the black smith and simply say's. "What do i need to do to get this weapon?"

The smith finishes with the blade he was pounding at and he dips it into a barrel of water, it steams immediately hissing loudly. He walks into the shop area, wiping his hands on a cloth.

"Aye," he says; "That's a fair price, that one. You have a good eye."

He stands beside the boy, a full two heads taller than the young man. "If you have 145 gold it's yours."

[OOC: There's no way you have 170 gold. You have a kings note worth 50 gold (you recieved it upon earning your squiredom) + roll a percentile.]

"I have other fine blades as well, perhaps they will be more to your liking."

[OOC: That's a large blade so it's more expensive. There are plenty of less ornate blades for less than 100g.]

Galin places the blade down a bit dejectedly. "Sadly I don't have enough gold for it. Can you show me some less expensive ones?" The blacksmith Shows him around the room and he finally settles for a much simpler blade that has a bit more weight behind it but is less well balanced ( http://www.medieval-weaponry.co.uk/acatalog/bastard-sword.html ). "So how much would this one cost?"

(OOC: How do I use the percentile thingy?)

[OOC: to roll a percentile (or any dice) go to the picture of the white die with six red dots, above the comment box that you are typing into. That will bring up a drop down list, select the appropriate option.]

"You're looking at seventy eight gold," the smith says. "I'll throw in a knife and whetstone, no extra charge."

He smiles a bit but his eyes remain serious. The sword, though a bit top heavy, is still a fine piece of steel. The handle is long enough to grip two handed if need be. The knife was a fair enough blade and the whetstone would keep them sharp.

[OOC: I'm hoping that you roll enough to afford it. Only 28g outside of the kings note.]

Okay, well that worked I guess. Now edit in your response to the smith and we'll go with that roll.