13th of Ymiden, 718, Early Morning
Jon hoped to be done practicing by the time Alistair was awake. Hopefully, he'd be able to look a little less like a fool by the time this was done. He had gone on an adventure to learn a few more qualities with Transmutation. It had been a complete and utter distraction from the goal Hob wanted for them (flaying men in the Crazed Corner) but ultimately a little more healthy. Jon needed to learn a weapon, and something as sexual and elegant as the whip seemed to suit him like a glove. It had the potential to be an immensely powerful weapon. Jon was sitting down, the whip uncoiled in his lap, as he extended his ether through it. He snaked himself through the weave of the whip. The little tassle at the end that was so harmless when it was still, but lashed the flesh off of men's backs when it was hurtled through the air at high speeds. The wood of the handle, and how the leather was intricately wrapped around it. It was a surprisingly good grip. It had a little flair to it as well; it was black cowhide and bamboo. Lightweight. Jon had little trouble handling it, and the entire weapon was so light it was hard to believe it would hurt anything. It seemed so...delicate.
He remembered stone. How tough and unyielding it was. He didn't want to impress upon the leather that it had to become immovable as stone...but it had to hit as hard as one. The leather was flexible as it always had been, but unlike cowhide which could be gently scratched with a fingernail, it didn't yield to Jon's exploratory scritching at the leather's surface. It was interesting; there was a tie between the ether surging through the woven leather straps, and himself.
He stood up and uncoiled the weapon, letting it flop onto the grass like a dead snake. The chief use of a whip started with momentum. Somehow he had to get that endpiece going so fast, it sliced through flesh. Having his ether extended into the whip helped a little bit; it wasn't some dead thing in his hand now. It was a part of him. He tried drawing his arm back and flinging it forward. That did...nothing. The whip flung forward with his strength...and flopped back onto the grass. He tried again. A simple fling of the arm didn't get the momentum he needed. He tried snapping it up and down. That was a little faster; the short jerk caused a merry little snap of the whip's end. Progress. He tried again, this time with a little harder gesture. The whip snaked back and snapped him just under his lip. Jon swore and brought the back of his hand to his chin, examining the blood on his hand with wonder. What good was a weapon if he just hurt his own damn self using it? There had to be a better way.
He had an idea. He extended out his arm, then brought it up around over his head. The whip whistled through the air as he twirled it in the air above his head. Good. That was the momentum he needed! That was the speed! That threatening whistle was everything he thought it would be. Now to use it. He brought the whip down and across his body in one sharp motion. He'd built up enough speed in the body of the whip that it shuddered down through the length of leather and snapped at the end. The effect was a loud, resounding crack that rippled across the lawn outside of Kaelserad.
Jon grinned. That was better! Again!
He brought up his arm, putting more and more effort into getting a good speed going. Then down and across the body again. Crack! The whip snapped its leathery jaws in the air. He'd got it moving fast enough, now could he translate that motion a little better?
His first thought was defense. He needed to shorten the amount of time building up momentum and more the amount of time spent expending that energy and essentially 'reloading' the whip. Whips were speed incarnate, and so he needed to be. He crossed the movement over his body again, and instead of resting flicked out the whip sharply, brought it up, around, and down again. The X motion, once he'd performed it a few times, was fluid. He could walk forward, crossing the blade of leather over his body like a small wall of pain. Anyone would be driven back at the prospect of getting whipped in the face. Up, around, down, around, down the other side. It was a movement he needed to be fast at. Surprisingly, doing such a thing required a lot of repetition. After a few yards crossing the whip defensively, cracks raining through the air, he was tired.
Jon took a breather, flicking the whip up into his hand to make a loop. He had the presence of mind to think that was a useful skill as well. He needed to be able to recall the whip as fast as he flung it out. He was still panting a little as he snaked the whip out and practiced recalling it. What if he could temper how hard he hit someone? Oh, he wanted Alistair's pert little ass raised up for him so he could give it a few smacks. The whip was a fine weapon and he would practice it dutifully...but he couldn't deny it's more dubious uses in the bedroom. He flicked it around his body. The whip rounded itself around his shoulders and waist, tapping his rear lightly with the tassel. There was a certain naughty little thrill to doing that.
'I think if you tried to get your mate to bed you with that thing he'd end up carving his name on your rear end out of pure rage.'Hob chuckled, though Jon sensed he liked where his mind was going with this.
"He'd have to get close enough to try." he chuckled. "If I get good enough, I could even tangle up that spearhead of his. If he'd ever spar with me. I think this weapon will be a hell of an advantage. I could snake out and grab someone's ankle, or strike the hand they're holding a sword with. Encircle their necks."
'Try it out on something.'Hob encouraged.
"Something living?" Jon mused at the idea. Perhaps. He strode toward the woods with the whip loosely coiled around his body, the handle thumping loosely against his shoulder. He knew where the game lay in these woods. He'd spent most of Ashan and all of Ymiden hunting and practicing his magic. Rabbits would be laying low and slowly starting to browse at this time of day. He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet and slowly picked his way through the underbrush. He had to be slow, and careful. Rabbits would be just as fast as the whip crack. He had to aim for a rabbit who either wasn't aware of his presence or had seen him and chosen the tactic of laying still. The first one he found almost toppled him; it darted out of a bush and ran right between Jon's legs. It was gone before he'd uncoiled the whip, to Hob's thunderous laughter. "Yeah yeah." Jon muttered, continuing on his way.
Out a little further into the woods, and he spotted her. A doe browsing the Ymiden leaves that were sprouting all along the forest floor. The weeds were growing into a thick carpet ready to be munched on, and this little rabbit was perhaps a bit brave going out in the middle of the open like this. Jon slowly lengthened the whip in his hand. He stopped, letting her settle. She didn't know him, and was content to ignore him for a patch of clover. Jon struck at her. The whip unfurled and snapped out. He really wasn't expecting to catch her, but he saw the tendril of the whip end curl around her paw. The knot just before the end of the tassel suddenly made sense. It locked around her ankle and as long as he held it taut made it extremely difficult to get away. The rabbit squealed, leaping into the air. She kicked, struggling and panicking. Jon walked toward her, coiling the whip carefully. It reminded him of fishing. Too fast and he'd release the knot and let her free. Too slow, and she'd chew through the leather. He reached her, and crouched down. The rabbit was panting madly, eyes rolling.
Jon seized her by the scruff and held her up, freeing her foot from his whip. Gods, he didn't have anything to dispatch her with!
'Of course you do.'Hob said lightly. 'Bite her.'
"What?" Jon asked incredulously.
'Snap her spine with your teeth. It's what I do. It's what every other predator would do.'
"Can't I just let her go?"
'Just try it once. You'll have something to grace Alistair's table with...and you can claim you hunted it all by yourself. She's a fat rabbit. I'm sure your lover would appreciate it. It's easy. Strike just behind her head. Hold the crown of her skull in your teeth...and snap your head sideways.'
Jon looked at her. All six pounds of wiggling nose, eyes rolled in terror and legs kicking occasionally. She was such a fluffy little thing. Just minding her own business when she'd gotten caught by him.
'All the other rabbits are hiding. She was foolish, and she would have paid for it by the claws of an owl or the teeth of a fox if not you. Do it.'Hob commanded.
Jon gingerly leaned forward, opening his mouth. His lips opened reflexively, and the bloom-like spreading of his lips sent the rabbit into another peal of panick. She squealed when he closed his mouth around the back of her head, and wrenched. He felt it. A sharp pop of something separating. Then the tear of something critical deep inside her spine. She kicked frantically in death throes, and Jon spat out fur. He looked in disgust as she kicked her last and laid limp in his hand. Well then. That was over...and he had something to offer Alistair. He felt a little bit of pride coming from Hob as well.
'Ah my little mage growing up.'Hob teased.
Jon hoped to be done practicing by the time Alistair was awake. Hopefully, he'd be able to look a little less like a fool by the time this was done. He had gone on an adventure to learn a few more qualities with Transmutation. It had been a complete and utter distraction from the goal Hob wanted for them (flaying men in the Crazed Corner) but ultimately a little more healthy. Jon needed to learn a weapon, and something as sexual and elegant as the whip seemed to suit him like a glove. It had the potential to be an immensely powerful weapon. Jon was sitting down, the whip uncoiled in his lap, as he extended his ether through it. He snaked himself through the weave of the whip. The little tassle at the end that was so harmless when it was still, but lashed the flesh off of men's backs when it was hurtled through the air at high speeds. The wood of the handle, and how the leather was intricately wrapped around it. It was a surprisingly good grip. It had a little flair to it as well; it was black cowhide and bamboo. Lightweight. Jon had little trouble handling it, and the entire weapon was so light it was hard to believe it would hurt anything. It seemed so...delicate.
He remembered stone. How tough and unyielding it was. He didn't want to impress upon the leather that it had to become immovable as stone...but it had to hit as hard as one. The leather was flexible as it always had been, but unlike cowhide which could be gently scratched with a fingernail, it didn't yield to Jon's exploratory scritching at the leather's surface. It was interesting; there was a tie between the ether surging through the woven leather straps, and himself.
He stood up and uncoiled the weapon, letting it flop onto the grass like a dead snake. The chief use of a whip started with momentum. Somehow he had to get that endpiece going so fast, it sliced through flesh. Having his ether extended into the whip helped a little bit; it wasn't some dead thing in his hand now. It was a part of him. He tried drawing his arm back and flinging it forward. That did...nothing. The whip flung forward with his strength...and flopped back onto the grass. He tried again. A simple fling of the arm didn't get the momentum he needed. He tried snapping it up and down. That was a little faster; the short jerk caused a merry little snap of the whip's end. Progress. He tried again, this time with a little harder gesture. The whip snaked back and snapped him just under his lip. Jon swore and brought the back of his hand to his chin, examining the blood on his hand with wonder. What good was a weapon if he just hurt his own damn self using it? There had to be a better way.
He had an idea. He extended out his arm, then brought it up around over his head. The whip whistled through the air as he twirled it in the air above his head. Good. That was the momentum he needed! That was the speed! That threatening whistle was everything he thought it would be. Now to use it. He brought the whip down and across his body in one sharp motion. He'd built up enough speed in the body of the whip that it shuddered down through the length of leather and snapped at the end. The effect was a loud, resounding crack that rippled across the lawn outside of Kaelserad.
Jon grinned. That was better! Again!
He brought up his arm, putting more and more effort into getting a good speed going. Then down and across the body again. Crack! The whip snapped its leathery jaws in the air. He'd got it moving fast enough, now could he translate that motion a little better?
His first thought was defense. He needed to shorten the amount of time building up momentum and more the amount of time spent expending that energy and essentially 'reloading' the whip. Whips were speed incarnate, and so he needed to be. He crossed the movement over his body again, and instead of resting flicked out the whip sharply, brought it up, around, and down again. The X motion, once he'd performed it a few times, was fluid. He could walk forward, crossing the blade of leather over his body like a small wall of pain. Anyone would be driven back at the prospect of getting whipped in the face. Up, around, down, around, down the other side. It was a movement he needed to be fast at. Surprisingly, doing such a thing required a lot of repetition. After a few yards crossing the whip defensively, cracks raining through the air, he was tired.
Jon took a breather, flicking the whip up into his hand to make a loop. He had the presence of mind to think that was a useful skill as well. He needed to be able to recall the whip as fast as he flung it out. He was still panting a little as he snaked the whip out and practiced recalling it. What if he could temper how hard he hit someone? Oh, he wanted Alistair's pert little ass raised up for him so he could give it a few smacks. The whip was a fine weapon and he would practice it dutifully...but he couldn't deny it's more dubious uses in the bedroom. He flicked it around his body. The whip rounded itself around his shoulders and waist, tapping his rear lightly with the tassel. There was a certain naughty little thrill to doing that.
'I think if you tried to get your mate to bed you with that thing he'd end up carving his name on your rear end out of pure rage.'Hob chuckled, though Jon sensed he liked where his mind was going with this.
"He'd have to get close enough to try." he chuckled. "If I get good enough, I could even tangle up that spearhead of his. If he'd ever spar with me. I think this weapon will be a hell of an advantage. I could snake out and grab someone's ankle, or strike the hand they're holding a sword with. Encircle their necks."
'Try it out on something.'Hob encouraged.
"Something living?" Jon mused at the idea. Perhaps. He strode toward the woods with the whip loosely coiled around his body, the handle thumping loosely against his shoulder. He knew where the game lay in these woods. He'd spent most of Ashan and all of Ymiden hunting and practicing his magic. Rabbits would be laying low and slowly starting to browse at this time of day. He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet and slowly picked his way through the underbrush. He had to be slow, and careful. Rabbits would be just as fast as the whip crack. He had to aim for a rabbit who either wasn't aware of his presence or had seen him and chosen the tactic of laying still. The first one he found almost toppled him; it darted out of a bush and ran right between Jon's legs. It was gone before he'd uncoiled the whip, to Hob's thunderous laughter. "Yeah yeah." Jon muttered, continuing on his way.
Out a little further into the woods, and he spotted her. A doe browsing the Ymiden leaves that were sprouting all along the forest floor. The weeds were growing into a thick carpet ready to be munched on, and this little rabbit was perhaps a bit brave going out in the middle of the open like this. Jon slowly lengthened the whip in his hand. He stopped, letting her settle. She didn't know him, and was content to ignore him for a patch of clover. Jon struck at her. The whip unfurled and snapped out. He really wasn't expecting to catch her, but he saw the tendril of the whip end curl around her paw. The knot just before the end of the tassel suddenly made sense. It locked around her ankle and as long as he held it taut made it extremely difficult to get away. The rabbit squealed, leaping into the air. She kicked, struggling and panicking. Jon walked toward her, coiling the whip carefully. It reminded him of fishing. Too fast and he'd release the knot and let her free. Too slow, and she'd chew through the leather. He reached her, and crouched down. The rabbit was panting madly, eyes rolling.
Jon seized her by the scruff and held her up, freeing her foot from his whip. Gods, he didn't have anything to dispatch her with!
'Of course you do.'Hob said lightly. 'Bite her.'
"What?" Jon asked incredulously.
'Snap her spine with your teeth. It's what I do. It's what every other predator would do.'
"Can't I just let her go?"
'Just try it once. You'll have something to grace Alistair's table with...and you can claim you hunted it all by yourself. She's a fat rabbit. I'm sure your lover would appreciate it. It's easy. Strike just behind her head. Hold the crown of her skull in your teeth...and snap your head sideways.'
Jon looked at her. All six pounds of wiggling nose, eyes rolled in terror and legs kicking occasionally. She was such a fluffy little thing. Just minding her own business when she'd gotten caught by him.
'All the other rabbits are hiding. She was foolish, and she would have paid for it by the claws of an owl or the teeth of a fox if not you. Do it.'Hob commanded.
Jon gingerly leaned forward, opening his mouth. His lips opened reflexively, and the bloom-like spreading of his lips sent the rabbit into another peal of panick. She squealed when he closed his mouth around the back of her head, and wrenched. He felt it. A sharp pop of something separating. Then the tear of something critical deep inside her spine. She kicked frantically in death throes, and Jon spat out fur. He looked in disgust as she kicked her last and laid limp in his hand. Well then. That was over...and he had something to offer Alistair. He felt a little bit of pride coming from Hob as well.
'Ah my little mage growing up.'Hob teased.
