*Swish, woosh, swish swish, wooooosh

Erik sliced up, swung down and sideways followed by an uppercut and downwards cut before finishing with a large and fast sweep, heavily impacting the target dummy with each hit. The Greatsword he had pulled out of the Mound of Blades the night before resting easily in his hands.

The sword was roughly 160cm tall from tip to pommel and with its wide blade weighed somewhere between 4 and 5kg, a monstrous weapon. Erik had dabbled in longsword fighting in the past, but while longswords are also used with two hands, their average length and weight was far less than the Greatsword he was now swinging around. An average, well made longsword would roughly be 110cm with a 1,5kg weight.

Of course, even with the additional strength of a Norscan it would be very difficult to swing the beast of a Greatsword around. The length wasn’t the problem, Greatswords could be far longer than the one Erik now owned. The problem was that it was simply too heavy. A usable Greatsword would weigh around 2-2,5kg due to the tapering, narrow blade. This Ceremonial Imperial Greatsword was more akin to an edged slab of steel.

The only reason Erik was able to handle the enormous weight was due to spending Favour for stats. During the meal with the Witan yesterday he had listened to many tall stories and past achievements of the mighty warriors. This then continuously fuelled Erik’s desire for strength and battle and in turn easily increased his Khornite Favour.

In total, he had gathered a bit over 50 Khornite Favour, barely enough for Erik to exchange it for 5 points in STR, raising his total Strength to 20. This 10:1 ratio of course was only for the first bought stats. The same ratio would be applied for a couple more times, but after that the cost would exponentially go up while earning Favour would also become more difficult. Gaining 50+ Favour from listening to war stories was most likely a one off. More Favour would have to be earned by ambition, battle lust and actual combat.

And right now, with a STR stat high enough to comfortably wield his sword, Erik was grinding away to try and increase his Two-handed proficiency. He had been at it all day and it was now well into the afternoon.

In the morning he was happily surprised when Sigrun had shown up with a change of clothes and breakfast. They ate their porridge and smoked meat breakfast together and amicably talked. At the end, Erik asked for a place where he could train and exercise, so Sigrun took him to a smaller plaza. There, Erik found what was best described as a sandpit where the earth had been stamped firm, frozen over during cold nights and dotted with a number of wooden posts bearing cut marks from extended use during training.

After a small warm up, Erik first swung his sword a couple times in the air to try and get a feel for it, quickly feeling tired from holding the sheer weight of it. He then spent the Favour for STR stats but an unforeseen effect occurred.

The extra STR points were essentially a small gift from Khorne and when Erik was infused with a sliver of the God of Wrath’s essence, Erik went berserk, madly swinging his sword at the wooden posts and actually destroying 2 of them in minutes.

Coming down from that high and seeing the destruction he had unwittingly wrought, Erik was very glad no people had entered his field of vision. If someone had… he would most likely have cut them in half in his mad rage.

Nonetheless, it was a valuable lesson for the future. And yet he couldn’t help but wonder what the effect would be when he inevitably exchanged Favour of the other Gods for stat-points…

In the afternoon, after a short stop for lunch, Erik continued swinging his sword at the wooden posts. His Two-handed proficiency had started at 125 and he had only managed to increase this by 1 point by continuously hitting the posts. Recalling the sensation of clobbering the thrall from yesterday, Erik felt another impulse well up within him.

‘Not enough! It’s not satisfying enough to hit dead wood! Give me live targets or better yet, a sparring partner or challenger!’

At this point after being continuously barraged by these sudden thoughts, Erik didn’t quite know how to feel. Were these impulses and thoughts really a result of the Chaos Marks, or were they really just his unfiltered feelings, previously kept hidden in the depths of his heart? And were they slowly being unchained by being in an environment that cared little for the laws and societal norms he had grown up with?

This train of thought was partly due to Erik rationalising his actions and another, major, part was simply because he found he couldn’t keep a certain someone out of his thoughts. A certain someone who, even now after a full day of mindlessly swinging his sword, was still attentively watching him.

Erik was well aware she was probably told to do this, but he couldn’t help but hope she was at least slightly attracted to him as he was to her.

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Erik continued his training for the next 9 days but had changed it up a bit. He wanted to try some things to see if they would help increase his proficiency gain.

Sadly, sparring was not possible because the Jarl had decreed no one could face off against Erik until the first Trial. And Erik was still averse to just asking for a slew of useless thralls to test his blade on. So instead he asked Sigrun where the cattle and livestock were being slaughtered. And the results were positive, slaughtering animals while using both hands on the killing tool gave vastly more proficiency than performing practice cuts. Sadly, only a limited number of animals were killed each day so he couldn’t endlessly grind them either.

His new training regime then looked something like this: In the morning he would head to the slaughtering field where he would grind for proficiency. Then, after quickly washing off the blood, he would have lunch with Sigrun before he continued practicing technique on the wooden posts.

He no longer relied on the afternoons to increase proficiency, but simply used the time to familiarise himself with using longsword techniques with a larger blade.

This was very important, because while proficiency was important, it only helped with being able to swing faster and keep the edge of the sword better aligned for clean cuts. It did not magically teach him the best way to wave the sword from cut to thrust or top left to low right and back to left.

And Erik continued this regime for these 9 days and the gains did not disappoint. He had gone from 125 to 126 on day 1 but by lunch on the 9th day his proficiency had reached 148. Sadly, similar to spending Favour for stat points, gaining extra points in proficiencies also got harder as the values progressed. And Erik slowly came to the understanding that, most likely, fighting and killing other people would be the single best way to rapidly increase his proficiencies.

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Erik enjoyed his almost leisurely training days for this time period, but it wasn’t to last. At the end of the 10th day, as Erik was about to finish up and walk back to his cabin with Sigrun, who would have a thrall sent to retrieve their dinner from the Jarl’s Hall. They would eat together while conversing and Sigrun would return home before dark. And as they walked, Erik carrying his Greatsword wrapped in a sheet of soft leather as he currently did not have a proper scabbard, they were stopped by a group of young Marauders, ill intent written on their faces.

‘Annoying’ –Was Erik’s honest thought upon seeing the approaching men.

“Why are you always bothering Sigrun Hellesdottir?” Was how the leading youth initiated the confrontation.

‘Can I punch him? I want to punch him…’ –Was the next impulsive thought Erik felt strongly about. He had just finished practicing his forms and was feeling slightly frustrated at already hitting a bottleneck with his current training regime.

As a consequence of this frustration, Erik replied with just two succinct words:

“Piss off.”

Taken aback, the group momentarily did nothing as Erik made to just walk past them. But one of them wasn’t having any of it and made to grab Erik’s shoulder to stop him.

‘ANNOYING!’

And with that impulse, Erik turned around and smashed his swords hilt in the offender’s sternum, immediately winding him and throwing him on the cold ground.

“Told you to piss off, moron. Your mommy never taught you basic manners?”

Usually, Erik would probably have tried a different approach. But the annoyance from the bottleneck, the persistence of the group and his budding possessiveness over Sigrun being threatened by them out of nowhere simply didn’t allow for that.

“Fuck you!” “Why don’t you piss off outta here, huh? Go die somewhere out there!” And other similar noises came from the group of offended youths. They were originally looking for trouble and they were not going to just let it be.

Still, Erik hadn’t completely snapped and was still very reasonable. Otherwise he would have unsheathed his sword and hacked them up, something he was already starting to itch for when the onslaught of curses continued.

He snuck a glance at Sigrun, seeing she was attentively watching him, seeing what he would do.

‘So easy, just cut one of them and they’ll shut up.’ –Was his impulse, but Erik didn’t want to start a bloodbath. Yet. He had a better idea.

During one of their dinnertime conversations, Erik learned that his first opponent hadn’t been decided yet. The Jarl believed it best to arrange for a suitable challenger on the day itself. But this was a pretty good opportunity to pick one, right?

So, Erik slowly and deliberately pulled out his sword and rested it on his shoulder, ready to strike, and calmly looked his ‘enemies’ in the eye.

Realising they had already put away their own training weapons, seeing sharp naked steel shut them up. Seeing them quiet, Erik carefully picked the words he would challenge them with.

“Fucking finally, done yapping? That all you can do, huh, yap like puppies? All bark but no bite?”
–And Erik chose the simplest way to provoke them, by insulting them.

“If you’ve got a problem with me, don’t come at me in a group like this and start cursing, what are you, some Reiklander bed-wetter? Or a silky Border Princeling?”

Seeing the rage build up on their faces, Erik changed tack while he took his sword off his shoulder and slowly waved it in front of him, pointing at each of them one by one.

“Hey, I know! I’ve got a great idea! In like, 10 days I’ll need to fight someone. Why not one of you ladies? Though I’m supposed to fight one of the new Marauders, a little sideshow before the main event wouldn’t hurt! Gives the tribesmen something to watch! Unless one of you happens to fit the criteria?”

With the challenge thrown out, the now very angry young men all started screaming they would accept Erik’s challenge. And having reached his goal, Erik turned to walk away, with Sigrun at his side, and left a few final words:

“Take it up with the Jarl! I’m off to have dinner with my date!”

And as a bright smile lit up his face, stunning the women they passed on the way, Erik’s good mood persisted through dinner and until he blissfully fell asleep under his warm fur covers under a now familiar roof.

~Bleep! – Player Erik earned Favour! Tzeentch approves of your small scheme!
~Bleep! – Player Erik earned Favour! Khorne approves your desire for battle!