Giles wandered out through the door and Rolf, curious about how things were going to take place. In the back of his mind, his head was spinning with an effective way to manage the brigands. Just going in and hitting them with steel was a very good method and he'd have probably suggested that if it wasn't for the fact that he was the only proven combatant within his awareness. Non-soldier types trying to fight with swords and sticks usually got to being pretty chaotic, and one could not trust an untrained man to provide the approriate cover one might expect fighting in a group. So instead, he resolved to listen.

"Do you know where the bandits are holed up?"

he asked.

Rolf nods to Broskow about meeting up with Cinar.  He thinks to say something about not going on the cheap for this expedition, but decides not to.  It probably goes without saying he's going to push for as many men as he can get.  Even if he has to dip into his own somewhat meager funds to pay for it.

Once out of the room he pulls Bromdaeg and Giles to the side.

"We'll have to track them from where they attacked the workers.  Hopefully the tracks will be good enough to follow despite whatever time has passed since they were made." Rolf says in reply to Giles query.

"I myself can track, but I'm a middling tracker at best.  We should get someone who can do it well or we'll potentially be running in circles in the woods for days."

Shifting gears he says to Bromdaeg, "I know this is not a high priority, but I wanted to make mention the caravan I was with stumbled upon a canyon with a couple of caves nestled at the bottom.  About a days ride from here."

"I would have explored them, but one cave entrance was lined with skulls and it was decided it was too risky to search.  It could be inhabited by creatures, or not, or be filled with ore, or not, or be brimming with both.  Who knows."

Addressing the pair he adds, "Once this hostage affair is over if you would like we could go there to investigate.  With at least two more swordsman I would think."

"I was going to mention it to the mayor until I found Broskow has that job.  I think that maybe not telling him is for the best.  The less he knows the less he can find ways to interfere."

Bromdaeg shakes his head as Giles asks if the dwarf knows from where the bandits came.  "Aside said, we phoned da play straight enough, bet we was a surge party.  We weren't quipped for take in a fight to Moradin knews where.  The prince seemed ta go off clear enough ta da east.  Tis herd to hide wagons's whats been lewd dead down to the the bricking pint."

Bromdaeg nods at Rolf too when he speaks.  "Sewn sill ick a plan.  Oil lick fewer to it, bet won thing at a time."

He laughs too when Rolf makes mention of hiding the information from Broskow.  "Aye.  Ha dun much like held en things ta me self, bet bye the gods that man can't bet due harm when he says his mind."

OOC:  Let me know if there is anything else you need before moving on.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:15, Sat 11 Sept 2021.

"To the east then." Rolf says in reply to Bromdaeg as he looks to his leave of the miner and let him get back to work.

"Lets find this Cinar and see how many men we can get.  I have to imagine there's more than a dozen since they likely break up into sub groups at any given time so we should expect more once we find them." Rolf says to Giles.  There's much the two need to discuss, but for now time is of the essence.  There are men taken hostage and for every minute that passes increases the chance harm will come to them.

Giles nodded, barely understanding the dwarf but it seemed to be the way he would expect things to go. In response Rolf spoke too, "I can't say I disagree Rolf. Things can wait until the bandit threat is neutralised. he said, while walking off with the group.

"The good news is, the bandits think we're probably holding out on them for the reserves of gold. That desire might help us manipulate them to a more advantageous position.

Rolf listens to Giles and ponders the Bandits motives for hostages.  "That's the thing, I'm not sure what taking captives gets you if you don't ask for ransom, which they haven't yet.  What's their play?" he asks openly.

"Is it to draw out our fighters and attack us in ambush?  Then overwhelm the Three corners and do as they please?  Or is it they have eyes on us and if they see us head after the hostages, the bandits do an end around and pillage while we chase a false trail."

"We're going to have to be really careful and keep a wary eye out for a trap if it's the former.  They have to know we're coming and we should expect them to be fully prepared."

"If it's the latter I don't know if there's anything we can do about it."

With the last information shared with Bromdaeg and a bit of speculation on the nature of their situation, Rolf bids the dwarf goodbye and focuses on his problem at hand.  It seemed the two most pressing issues were to advertise his needs for adventurers and to nail down as much financial assistance as he can from Cinar.  Unfortunately, it seemed likely that both items had the potential to fall far short of the need...

---

The word spread around the small town of Three Corners quickly, almost immediately after the word that bandits had taken hostages from one of the mining trains.  A party was needed to rescue the workers, and if possible deal with the bandit problem right at the source.

Rolf was not entirely unsatisfied with the outcome...  Though it was not the dozen men he had hoped for, he no longer expected that he would have the funds to pay for such a party anyway.  There simply wasn't the money to pay for it.  Instead, what answered Rolf's call was a motley band of adventurers he had never as yet met, although some of them seemed familiar with each other.

There was the swordsman, Gustav, who was building a bar in the town.  The work had stopped on his premises due to a lack of materials, and Rolf had managed to insinuate that the bandits were likely at least partially to blame.

There was the Minotaur, Magnus.  Though quite literally a monster, Rolf was surprised by his rather quiet demeanor and gentle baritone.

Then there was the slight Muslim woman, Sajaa.  Of all of them, she was perhaps she was the most out of place, although the wicked looking blade at her waist and the steel gleam of her eye did not leave Rolf any impressions that the girl couldn't defend herself.

And then there was Rolf and Giles.  The mage and his apprentice.

Though it was far short of his goal, Rolf felt his chances were low of anyone else showing up.

Magnus, Gustav, and Sajaa join the thread.

OOC: It is 1630 on the 3rd of January.  Each of you may have a few months to kill for timeline alignment here, with the exception of Rolf/Gustav/and Giles who have just a few days, but I'm not going to get too fussy on the details.  Magnus, your trip down with Arnold was successful (despite all the great ideas I had for roleplaying the trip down, alas, we'll have to skip it), though Brashear was less than ecstatic that he was being brought a one-handed, criminal recruit.  Sajaa, you've had a month or two around the border towns moving from place to place.  I've added the funds from the sale of your horse and assumed that you've been doing odd jobs to keep your funds around the same place.  Gustav, while I had the intention of letting you build your bar, there simply hasn't been enough game time, though we'll get around to it soon, I promise.  Thanks again everyone for the patience.

Over to you Rolf and Giles for your recruiting.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:33, Tue 28 Sept 2021.

Gustav has brough a Pony Keg of beer down and is selling off pints for 6 coppers.
He hasn't been able to do much in the way of food and has staked out a location for the Tavern he hopes to build, but only his waon and tent is there now.
He notes Sajaa, who seems quite out of place... Young Lady, you seem far from your kind. I would not affront you by offering you a beer, but I will offer a dry and private place to sleep with less chance of being accosted during the night.

Magnus did not have any place he could really call home. His parents owned a roadside inn way out east, but he had never even been there, just having heard about it in letters.

But if he had to claim some place, it would have to be Three Corners.

The Minotaur had lived there for some months during his rest and recovery after Perdition, and he had volunteered to stay and to defend the fort during the now infamous Wazifi siege.

The truth had mingled with fiction as the stories were told and retold. Some of the deeds were painted as heroic, others terrible, some sickening. The one where he had charged and then gored a horse ridden by a Wazifi cavalryman was particularly popular.

Whatever had happened that day, Magnus had been in the thick of it, and he seemed to know Brashear fairly well. Giles and Gustav and even Terri as well by the look of things.

He had hauled in a prisoner shuffling along in hobbles when he had returned, something about being involved with catching a murderer up in Raphael, but he was back with a new ugly stab wound and apparently planned to stay for some time.

He had wept, quietly and by himself, when he had heard the news about Rondald and had been making sure Terri had plenty of firewood, in addition to checking in on her frequently to offer manual labor or friendly conversation.

But for the most part, he kept to himself, catching up with old friends and a few of the legionaries he had come to know, and trying not to grow fat in his little loaned room in the Fort during the chilly winter weather.

Upon hearing that there had been trouble with Bandits, and now having good reason to reunite with many of his friends at once, Magnus now attended the meeting in his sturdy winter clothing, seeming a little older and perhaps even a little larger than he had before.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:03, Wed 15 Sept 2021.

Sajaa al-Kassem looks up from her plate, her golden eyes meeting the keen, green ones of the tall, dark-haired man standing over her.  It has been a month since she made the decision to abandon her nijab and burqa to better blend in with the heathens, and still she feels naked and exposed. Always on the alert for the trouble that seems part and parcel to a woman traveling alone in foreign lands, she is immediately suspicious of this man.  Between her constant fear of being caught by the Sheik’s bounty-hunters; and her natural wariness over the often less-than-honorable intentions of the men she’s encountered at home and abroad, Sajaa cannot help but go immediately on the defensive.  As she meets the man’s gaze, it occurs to her that her right hand has closed discreetly over the handle of the sword that rests in its scabbard beneath the table, in the empty chair beside her.

From his heavy accent and the cut and style of his travel-worn but expensive-looking clothing, Sajaa presumes the man is no native to Megalos. Earlier, she saw him lug in a keg of ale and begin selling it to the locals.  Perhaps he is a traveling merchant.  That he is mindful of her religious intolerance to drinking alcohol is comforting, but his offer of a dry and safe place to sleep puts her on edge…  More than once in her travels she has been duped by a lecherous pig’s falsely kind words and gentle smile.

But Sajaa does not rebuff the man.  She has come here to this rustic little shack of an inn, in this backwater village, desperately searching for work.  And perhaps this man can help her in her endeavor.

”I already have a place to stay, but thank you for your kindness, Lord.” She lies haltingly in Anglese, dropping her eyes and bowing her head on instinct.  ”But I do beg your assistance, Lord, if you will.  I have been told a capable woman with horse and sword may find employment here.  Would you know, Lord, if anyone is hiring?”

OOC: It has been 6 weeks since Sajaa crossed the Makarem River and entered Megalos.  Since then she has remained on the move, wandering from village to village, doing her best to remain incognito while at the same time finding work here and there to support herself.  Whether it is washing dishes at an Inn, to mucking out stalls; to scrubbing laundry, no job is too menial for Sajaa.  To make up for her deficit in earnings, she sold the bay gelding, but has kept the black mare. She has paid off her Quirk, “always wears hijab” so has shed it, and replaced it with some comfortable, average wealth clothing of leather and wools (loose fitting trousers if this is something the women often wear, otherwise whatever dresses or gowns). She keeps her long black hair intricately braided as seen in her Character Description pic. I’m not experienced playing in large group threads, so let me know if I should avoid branching off into individual conversations such as what I’ve done with Gustav, so as not to jar with the flow of the narrative, or if I’m cool to continue this side-scene.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:45, Wed 15 Sept 2021.

At the mention of Sajaa looking for work Magnus perked up a little from where he was hunched over the table on his elbows, a mug of Gustav's beer in hand. He was happy to support his compatriot in his business venture after all.

The interest was professional, although that huge, broad face with its large black upon black eyes the size of a large chickens eggs were always difficult to read for the unaccustomed.

His coat was thick and had turned a russet brown with the cool winter months, his long tunic some sort of green wool with a belt wrapped around his middle.

Even after his time south of the border and there living at the Fort, he had difficulty figuring out the Wazifi. It was not the people in general, they seemed pretty similar to the common folk everywhere he had been, but it was all the different sects, styles of dress and customs. What's more he always felt awkward asking about it during the few occasions he had been in a position to do so.

Magnus happened to be a mercenary by trade, just about the only semi-steady work he had been able to find in his life given his obviously inhuman features, and so the prospect of this beautiful young woman with her horse and her curved sword pursuing the same line of work had obviously drawn his curiosity.

Even as she is waiting for the Ale Merchant’s reply to her question, Sajaa glances past the man to see the huge bovine monstrosity that had so astonished her earlier when she first walked in, swiveling its great, horned head to gaze directly at her.  Its hairy mass is squeezed into a chair at a nearby table, sipping from a tankard, and its attention is suddenly drawn to her.

Quickly, she looks away, her face flushing.

Her people know the creatures as Rajulalthawr -- what Megalosians would call Bullmen.  And though Sajaa knew they existed, she has never before seen one in the flesh and it both fascinates and terrifies her at the same time.  That it is lounging so placidly here in this establishment, eating and drinking like any other human customer -- and not crashing about bellowing and slaying everyone in a berserk rage as the stories told -- mystifies her.  Barely anyone seems to be paying any mind to the shaggy brute, and this surprises her even more.

Perhaps it is safe, after all... She thinks to herself, though the hand on the sword beneath the table tightens.

Looking now with focused interest on the Man to avoid the Bullman's gaze, Sajaa tries to interpret the meaning in the beast’s big, liquid black eyes.  She has long learned how to read meaning in the eyes of lustful Men -- but surely the way the beast’s eyes perked up when they locked on her -- could not mean the same thing. Indeed, a human woman must be just as hideous to a Rajulalthawr as it is to her!

...Or perhaps it just wants to eat me! She thinks to herself.

OOC: Pretend not to notice Magnus. Keep conversing with Gustav.  In back of head, thinking of the lyrics of an old love song she’d heard as a child back in her village:  Tale as Old As Time...  True as it can be… Barely even Friends… Then Somebody bends… Unexpectedly…. LOL, just kidding! PS, not sure if I was supposed to make a Perception Roll to even notice Magnus noticing her, so delete if the roll was required and should have failed.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:00, Wed 15 Sept 2021.

I am Gustav, late of Arraterre. I expect your offer of a sword for hire will soon net you some work, but I can use some help as well. Can you cook?  I won't ask you to wait tables here, as the men have no manners. Safety for a woman is hard to find here, hopefully you have better than my tent which offers better protection from the weather than the ill mannered brutes that work here. Oh, and Magnus there is a friend and companion from past adventure, I vouch for him.

“Cook?”  Sajaa replies to the man -- Gustav of Arraterre’s -- inquiry.  So, he is not just a traveling merchant, but the proprietor of this establishment!  Her heart leaps at the prospect of a job.

“Why … why yes, Lord.  I can cook.”  She says, bowing her black-haired head.  ”Not professionally.  Though I have been cooking for my family since I was a little girl.  I would need to learn the recipes of your local cuisine, for my experience is limited to Al-Wazif dishes -- rice, poultry, beef, vegetables and nuts flavored with saffron, lime, cinnamon, turmeric and parsley, and the like.” She risks a smile.  ”Not everyone likes Al-Wazif food.  But I am a quick learner, Lord! And a very hard worker!”

The ember of hope flickers in her heart at the prospect of employment here.  Perhaps her arduous, constant flight can come to an end and she can start planting some roots. But then her smile fades: ”Oh, but, Lord Gustav, you should know that my God forbids me to touch the flesh of swine in any fashion.  I hope that does not present a problem?”

At Gustav’s casual mention of the Bullman -- Magnus its name -- speaking as though the beast is an old friend, Sajaa is comforted.  She glances around the room, marveling at the variety of ethnicities and races -- this Minotaur -- and, over by the hearth, a whiskered Dwarf.  Her own countrymen are far less tolerant of non-humans and non-Muslims, so she is intrigued and encouraged by the progressive nature of her new home.

Taking a deep breath, she turns her head back to meet eyes once more with Magnus's and offers the brute the slightest of a nod and a smile.

What an amazing and wonderful place is Megalos!
This message was last edited by the player at 13:41, Thu 16 Sept 2021.

Magnus raised his clay mug a few inches and nodded in greeting. "How's it goin?" he asked, the baritone of his voice causing a slight but perceptible tremor in the diaphragm as it rolled out over the other conversations in the establishment and the clinking of utensils.

Amid the other conversation, Gustav mentioning the "ill mannered brutes" that did seem to abound in these out of the way frontier towns. The prospect of employment. Magnus waited for an opening to ask Gustav a question, and when he found it a hint of an almost nostalgic smile tugged at the corners of the Minotaur's mouth.

"Hey Gustav, do you remember the name of that little Wazifi girl that came along with us out to the tower? The one that never spoke?" he asked in a way that suggested that while she was obscure to him, that he was asking purely out of curiosity. The tone was classic, and recognizable as an "old war story" told among those that had served together.

When he said the "tower", it was obvious to Gustav that he referred to the Tower of Octavius. The Wazifi village of Tabuk was less than an easy weeks walk south of Three Corners, and the infamous tower was but another thirty miles from Tabuk. The place where the mad wizard Haj Umr ibn-Hussein abd-al-Rahman al-'alim Takali, who consorted with the dead, had made his stand.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:37, Thu 16 Sept 2021.

I can't say as I do, Magnus,

My Lady, I am no Lord, just Gustav is enough.  Your cooking will do fine, compared to what they eat now, they will think it a feast, assuming we can get the things to cook.  Yes, I am aware of the prohibition, we don't have a lot of four legged pigs here, so I doubt it will be a problem. We should talk about how we wish to do this and how much you wish for your cooking services. First though, by what name would you like to be addressed?

Sajaa feels a great weight lifted from her when Gustav agrees to hire her.  Since fleeing Al-Wazif, she has been constantly fretting about finding the financial means to support herself.  Though she presumes the pay she can earn as a swordswoman will trump that of a cook’s salary, she has to start somewhere and, as her mother used to say,  A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.

”Ashkuruk! Thank you, Lord …. er … Master Gustav!  I promise I will work hard.  I can start whenever you need me.” She says, rising from her seat and bowing, her eyes glistening. ”Though I do ask that I be permitted time away now and then should I receive opportunities to earn additional wages as a swordsman!”

In answer to his request for her name, she smiles.  ”You may call me ….” She hesitates for just a second, then:  ”Mitra, Sire.” It isn’t so much an outright lie as it is a diversion from giving her real identity. One can never be too careful.  Hopefully Allah will forgive her for this minor infraction.

OOC: I figure with her on the run from bountyhunters, Sajaa is going to use an alias, I hope it doesn't cause too much confusion. I suppose Gustav and I can work out the details and logistics of her employment in OOC if that cleans up the thread more.   Google research says the average salary of a typical cook is about $29,500 per year, which calculates to about $570 (rounded up) which comes to about $14.25 an hour (US dollars).  Not sure how the economy works here.  But she’d make an initial offer of $15 an hour plus be given the opportunity to earn tips. These wages are negotiable, of course, as she’s in dire straights.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:03, Fri 17 Sept 2021.

Magnus seemed to see his "in" when Mitra mentioned that she would prefer time away to pursue mercenary work. With his initial curiosity peaked, he cleared his throat.

"So you're a sell sword?" He asked her, and settled his large glossy eyes upon hers. Gustav's inability to recall the girl, and the change of topic both seemed to flow easily. His time was neither suspicious or doubting, but rather had all the intonation of somebody trying to spark up a conversation.

To be completely fair, there was nothing about Magnus that suggested that he was a mercenary himself, well aside from maybe his heritage and his hulking build. His woolly appearance, comfortable looking green tunic and lack of any sort of armament hardly spoke to a hired killer.

Sajaa (who has now adopted the alias, Mitra) turns toward the deep, rumbling voice addressing her, and once more finds herself meeting eyes with the great, shaggy Beast.  It is still seated at its table and so she takes a tentative step nearer, her golden eyes wide.

”Well … Sir … “ She stammers in her heavily accented Anglese, uncertain how to address a monster.  ”I am not yet a sellsword … but I am quite interested in pursuing such an occupation.” She glances to Gustav.  ”On the side, of course, as Master Gustav has honored me by hiring me as his cook.”

She finds herself staring, slack-jawed at the brute.  It seems far more intelligent than the stories described Rajulalthawr to be.  Her breath suddenly catches when it occurs to her she had mentioned beef as one of the main ingredients in Al-Wazifian cuisine.  Is a Minotaur not beef, too?!  She wonders, praying that this Magnus did not overhear that particular comment -- though judging by the size of the creature’s ears and obviously attentive demeanor, she doubts she could be so lucky.

She steps over to her table and pulls out the spare chair on which lays her rolled up prayer rug.  From within the roll, she draws out a slightly curved saber, its handle ivory studded with gems -- clearly a sword designed for someone of a means far greater than that which “Mitra” would apparently have.

”You see.  I have a sword, Sir Magnus.  A good one, and I believe I have a natural talent with it.”  She says, her mind flitting back to how she ran her husband through … and the way she so efficiently butchered the two bounty-hunters south of the river.  ”I have a horse, too.  And will soon have armor.”  She steps nearer, fascinated by the beast.

”Are you, too, a mercenary, Sir?  Or do you know of anyone seeking such services?”

Oh, Allah, how much my life has changed! Here I stand unmasked, unchaperoned, chatting with mythical monsters in this far away land, sword in hand, and adventure in my heart!

OOC: GM reserves the right to veto this as the sword’s image if he thinks its too fancy looking for Sajaa’s character.  I took a risk hoping the sword was fancy seeing it belonged to a wealthy and powerful Sheik.


This message was last edited by the player at 18:03, Fri 17 Sept 2021.

Magnus listened attentively, in a way that suggested that he was actively curious and not just waiting for a turn to speak.

The admission about her "not yet" being a sell sword met with a nod of evident approval, if that confirmed his suspicions or he simply appreciated the honesty, or the humility, it was difficult to say.

When she produced the sword he looked at it mutely, but he made no move to inspect it more closely nor did he seem particular moved by its beauty or decoration. He did not even seem particularly surprised by the girl possessing such wealth, or at least that broad face did not show it.

"I suppose I am, yeah" he nodded slowly a few times, raised his mug to his lips and took a sip.

"I've found that it gives you a lot of freedom, but you do pay for it, in other ways" he told her with a hint of weariness. He rubbed at his mouth idly with his hand before he continued. "Have you looked into the laws up here in Megalos by chance? About arms, armor and whatnot?" he asked her with a slight cocking of his horned head.

”Goodness, no! I did not, Sir!” She replies, aghast, suddenly lowering the blade and stepping back to her table to return it to its sheath and then sliding the ensemble back to hide it in the rolls of the prayer rug.

”Am I breaking the local law here by possessing this sword?  And if so, how do I remedy that?”
This message was last edited by the player at 19:31, Fri 17 Sept 2021.

Magnus raised up one hand in an almost sing gesture. "Well Major Brashear, who kind of runs the show around here, he's a good man. I don't think you'll see any trouble in Three Corners." he explained, a rural twang rounding out his words.

"But you're gonna draw more attention than most, that's just the truth, so if you travel around up here in the north you are probably gonna find that some people might take notice, and a lot of that is gonna depend on where you are and if they generally enforce that sort of thing." he took another sip. "Swords...well, that complicated. I want to say folks that own land can carry a sword?" He glanced to Gustav, who carried one regularly

"I've never quite gotten a straight answer to that one. But I would stay away from any sort of pole arms, cross bows, the heavy armors. Leathers are fine...and you can get a writ from the local authorities for the right price, just to make things official. It helps if you're with the Armsmens Guild" he told her, before he gave a sort of gentle smile. "Just trying to give you fair warning, it would be a shame get such a pretty sword confiscated over somethin' like that."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:43, Fri 17 Sept 2021.

”The Armsmen’s Guild?” Sajaa asks.  ”Is that the local militia?  Do they hire? Or are they all volunteers?  Might one earn coin through them?” She asks.  Then she smiles and bows her head apologetically.

”Forgive me for all my questions, Sir Magnus.  I am new to these parts and do not want to start off on the wrong foot!”

OOC: Love the dialogue and happy to continue unless the conversation needs to be segwayed to OOC.  Still figuring this group thread stuff out.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:59, Fri 17 Sept 2021.

"Oh, it's no problem" Magnus shrugged. "The Armsmens Guild..." He began, then trailed off in thought for a few moments. "I want to say it began as a way to organize all these various mercenary groups? I imagine if you have a pack of trained killers roaming around the countryside, you're gonna want to keep track of them, know how to reach them in an emergency...tax them." He theorized with little gestures of his hand. "Also a way to keep them in line, so if they wind up causin' trouble, you can kick'em out of the Guild, which means that can't work on the big official jobs for the Empire." his tone seemed to indicate that this would be a big deal in the mercenary world.

"I have been meanin' to look into it more, I talked with a Guild Officer about it years ago, just, have not kept up with it.  But for you, it's a way to hear about jobs, get some legal protection, make some good connections. There's an annual fee to belong I think." he clucked his tongue. "Should probably look into that myself...there's been plenty of work lately, so it hasn't been as big a deal last year or so." he grew silent for a few moments before he looked back to her. "You've got a horse though, and a weapon already. Sounds like you're well in your way. Do you have any, well, training?" he asked delicately.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:38, Fri 17 Sept 2021.

Gustav Listened attentively, he had to fight not trying to pick up the fancy shamshir she produced, obviously it was not hers, but had been acquired by her, that might be an interesting story too.   Well Mitra, I think we can help you there too, I also have been a sell sword, which is how Magnus and I know each other.  May I look at your  uh sword please, I am always intrigued by swords. I will not harm it or you and will return it in a moment, but would like to test it's balance. As for instruction in sword fighting, I can provide the basics at least. [Gustav is quite sure that she needs to learn Saber, not sword, with this blade, but wishes to be sure].