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[WP] You're a princess locked in a tower, only you locked yourself there so you could focus on your training. You follow a rigorous daily routine of exercise and meditation. Normally you have to fend off the covetous knights who come to 'rescue' you, but this latest one has asked to be your pupil.
Strike to the chest! Sweep the legs! Follow with a driving attack!
I move through the motions the way water runs through a stream. My arm swims in the air before striking the practice dummy. There are no thoughts in my head. Thinking during battle is like tying oneself to a heavy stone. Thoughts weigh a person down. I will not be constrained.
It’s ironic. In a way, I’d done that to myself.
Years ago, I’d locked myself in one of my father’s tallest towers when news arrived of mother’s kidnapping, I’d snatched all the books and scrolls of combat from the royal library and sought refuge in the safety of hard stone and constant training. Meals were brought to me and slid under a slot in the door. For so long I had allowed myself a meal if—and only if—I’d felt I had trained hard enough that day.
Throw the elbow! Drive the foot down!
“Had enough yet?” I ask my practice dummy. It smiles back at me.
When I began my training, all I had were my dollies and stuffed animals. I quickly turned them into the types of villains who would snatch a girl’s mother away. A few I kept tucked near my pillow, away from my wrath, but the others became my darkest adversaries.
The torn face of a stuffed bear stares up at me. It’s one remaining eye dangles from a thin string. Cotton pokes out of its cheeks, neck, and arms.
“Yes,” I say and cradle the bear in my arms. “You fought bravely all these years, Arch Bearington.” On the far wall is a ledge. I place him there. “You’re in the Hall of the Fallen. May your days be filled with—”
A knock at the door.
“I’m not hungry yet!” I shout. “Come back later.”
“I haven’t brought any food,” a man’s voice says behind the door.
“Another knight here to rescue me?” I ask as I make my way toward the door. “It’s not me you should waste your time on.” I pound a fist on the door. It rattles in its hinges as if afraid from watching all my blows against my enemies for years. “Don’t make an enemy of me, door,” I whisper.
“What?” The voice asks.
“Nothing.” I rest my hands on my hips. “It’s the queen you should concern yourself with, not me. She’s still missing I take it?”
“Yes, princess Aliena.” I hear the quiver in the man’s voice. What kind of trembling knight would be of any use to me or my mother?
“Then this conversation is done.” I begin to turn away from the door.
“I’ve not come to rescue you!” He calls. “Or your mother. I wouldn’t know how!”
I turn back to the door, intrigued. Of all the callers I’d received over the years, none had professed to be worthless. All had boasted that they could protect me from this or rescue me from that.
As if I needed their assistance. If they could only see the remnants of my fallen foes on the ledge—they’d know. My training is almost complete. I'm almost ready to set out.
“People speak about your training, princess Aliena.” The man—boy?—continues. I look to a mirror that hangs some feet away and touch my cheek. So many years have passed.
“Was it the woman who does the monthly floor scrubbing? Or the one who brings me my weekly bath water?” I narrow my eyes and clench a hand into a fist. I trusted their discretion.
“Princess, it doesn’t matter, does it? I've come to learn. To train.” The voice sounds lower than it had before. Is he on his knees behind the door?
He continues, “I’ll do anything you say. Follow every order!”
“Why should I?” I ask. It would be nice to have an actual person to train with. One of the scrolls often quoted, ‘Boards do not hit back.’ At the time it seemed so obvious as to be silly. Now I understand. “Has your mother also been taken?” I ask.
“No…” His voice is barely a whisper. “I…” He clears his throat. “My mother always says that honesty is the best. Truth is, princess, none of the knights will have me for a squire. You’re my last hope. It’s either train as your pupil, or go to work in the mines with my father.”
In the Art of Warring Knights, the author states clearly: Show no mercy. An entire chapter is devoted to it. But I’ve never heard something so pathetic before. Perhaps this boy is an opportunity to overcome these useless emotions. I can make a show of allowing him to train, while really I’m the one who’s training.
I open the door. It creaks from so little use.
Not a boy, but a young man my age, kneels on the floor. I notice that his eyes are several times too large and I almost gasp.
It’s just his glasses. Thick lenses like the bottoms of a glass mug sit in front of both his eyes. Hair the color of the reddest fire sticks out at odd ends as if he’d just been walking through a windstorm.
“So you’ll have me?” He rises from the floor and those large eyes bore into mine.
“Close the door behind you.” I walk over to my row of stuffed animals and pick up Madam Unicorn. “I want to see what we’re working with.”
“Thank you,” he says and closes the door. “I’m Jack.” He extends a hand out to me.
I ignore it.
After I set the unicorn on the dummy stand, I turn to Jack. “This is Madam Unicorn.” He raises an eyebrow and smiles. “You wouldn’t be so calm if you knew the countless mothers she’s taken over the years. All the orphans she's created.” I move to the side. “Attack! Now!”’
Jack looks to me and then Madam Unicorn.
“You said you’d follow every order. Are you a liar, Jack?” I cross my arms. I don’t like liars. “No! No, princess Aliena.” He looks to the dummy stand. “I, it’s just that… it’s a stuffed animal.”
“Well, I’d say it was nice meeting you, but it wasn’t. Have a good—”
He cuts me off. “I’ll do it!”
A shout like a baby’s war-cry emerges from him as he charges Madam Unicorn. His fist swings clumsily through the air and grazes the soft fur of the stuffed animal. Red-faced, he turns to me.
I sigh. “I guess I should show you how it’s done.”
“Yes, please.” He moves away in a hurry.
“Strike the throat!” I shout. My hand storms into the unicorn’s neck. The wooden stand tips back. “Drive the knee!” I drive my leg upward, connecting my knee to the stuffed animal’s underside. It bounces high in the air and then falls on the floor below.
I look to Jack. His expression is better than I imagined. Instead of mere awe on his face, he looks terrified. He now knows the truth: his master is a ruthless warrior. Unstoppable. Unfeeling… when she has to be.
“See, it’s easy,” I say and set the unicorn back on the stand.
Sweat rolls down Jack’s forehead. He seems to be a shade paler than earlier. Is he really so rattled over striking an inanimate object?
This will be harder than I thought.
Another verse from the Art of Warring Knights comes to me. ‘To truly master a skill, one must be able to teach it perfectly.’
Jack isn’t just my pupil. I now realize—he’s the ultimate test.
“It’s not much different than the previous ones. Besides, even if it were real, your attacks wouldn’t even earn its attention.” I point at the stuffed animal.
“It’s a dog,” He says. “It looks just like the one I have back home.”
“A real dog?” I ask, my heart fluttering at the thought. I’d been so long in this tower that I’d forgotten that some of these toys had living equivalents in the real world.
Jack nods. “His name's Scrappy. He used to do this thing with his paws where—”
“Enough!” I shout. Once again I point to the stuffed animal. “This also happens to be named Scruffy.”
“Scrappy,” he says with a note of remorse.
“And I order you to attack.” I cross my arms. “Or go follow your father into the mines.”
He makes his way in front of the dummy stand and draws a deep breath. Jack winds up into one of the stances I’d taught him—Crazy Angel—one that I’d created after reading Heavenly Poses: a Treatise on Stances and Combat Postures.
“Oh no!” Jack squeals as he lifts the dog off of the stand and falls backwards. “He’s licking my face, princess! I don’t think he wants to be attacked!” He lifts the stuffed dog up to me. “Can't you hear? He’s saying that he’s a good boy.”
I’m not amused.
“Fine.” I grab the stuffed dog and toss him behind me. We’d been practicing for days now. Stuffed animals had served me well. But that was in the past. Their sacrifices had transformed me from novice to master. Time to move on. I reach down and help Jack to his feet.
“We can use a different one,” he says, and then points to a pink elephant near my pillow on my bed. “What about that one?”
“No!” I stand in front of him. No one touches Sir Trunks. “We’ve done all we can with those, now it’s time for real sparring.”
“What? Me and you?” Jack asks. He takes a step back, shaking his head. “I can’t strike the princess. Your father will have my hands!”
“But I’m not your princess, am I?” I step forward until we’re so close I can see myself in the iris of his dark blue eyes. I can smell the cloud of his fear. It’s a scent I’ll have to get used to. “I’m your master, and you’re my pupil.”
A knock at the door.
“I’m not hungry!” I shout. If this is another knight I’ll—
“Princess Aliena,” a woman answers. “It’s Marjorie.”
I glare at Jack. “Was she the one who told you about me?” He shakes his head no. Impatience in my voice I say, “You may come in, Marjorie.”
The cleaning lady opens the door. Her heavy bucket scratches the wood floor as she lugs it behind her. Soapy water sloshes and spills over in wet splats.
“Jack,” I move to the center of the room. “Wizened Tiger stance, now!”
“We’re really doing this? Now?” He looks at Marjorie and whispers, “With her in the room?”
“You think your enemies will fight you in secret?” I ask, and then wave to the row of stuffed animals. “My enemies have watched as I battled them for years. Audiences do not frighten me.”
We get into our stances. I strike first.
My hand is a blur of awesome power as it smashes into his chest. As Jack is knocked back, my hand explodes with pain. I gasp.
It seems I’m unused to attacking such un-fluffy targets. No matter. My resolve is hard as iron. It’s the stuff blacksmiths use to forge the strongest weapons. With it I’ll crush my foes and spit at their memories.
I return to my stance. So does Jack. He doesn’t appear to be too hurt, though he does rub the spot I struck with a frown. Strange, I thought it would devastate him. Bearington had lost over a pound of stuffing to that same attack.
We circle each other. My eyes stay on his.
It dawns on me that I haven’t been in the same room as another boy my age in years. Even then, the only man allowed in my room has been my father, and he only visits on my birthday. The last time had been a little over a month ago—for my seventeenth. We’d eaten cake in silence. I’d wanted to tell him about how well my training had been going and how soon I’d be rescuing my mother, but I know how much he hates hearing of it.
As I’m lost in memories, Jack makes his attack: Arching Dagger. His hand is a stiff line as it drives into my side. Somehow, I lose my balance and stumble backwards. My leg catches on something.
The room spins. I’m falling.
I fall into Marjorie’s bucket. Water splashes up around me as I sink down.
“Aliena!” Jack rushes over and yanks on my hand. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think.”
“That’s princess Aliena!” Marjorie clutches her sponge in both hands. Possibly afraid she’ll be implicated in my fall. “You actually struck her!” Her voice is trembling as is the rest of her.
“Ha!” I push Jack away and leap from the bucket. “Even a master knows when she can learn something new!”
We spend the rest of the day exchanging blows. Jack had the upper hand—at first. He hadn’t spent years waging unceasing war on soft enemies. My hands had to learn what to expect; my eyes to track a moving opponent. But I learned quickly. The hours roll by.
“I think today was beneficial for both of us.” I approach the window. The sun is low and the day is almost over. “We both have battle scars now.”
“I have a question, Aliena.” Jack turns red when I turn and stare at him. “Sorry... Master Aliena.”
“I’ve decided that you may address me as Princess Master as well.”
Jack nods and asks, “Don’t you think part of our training should be outside?”
My heart almost leaps into my throat. Outside? I haven’t been out of this room in so long.
As if reading my mind he says, “Didn’t you say that a warrior needs to know all of his, or her, battlefields? They must be like the back of one’s hand. That’s what you’d said, right?”
I hate it when he uses my words against me. A master must not be quoted… unless it makes the master look good. Otherwise, it’s insubordination. This isn’t a rule I’ve read, but I’ve been toying with the idea of writing my own book, sharing all that I’ve learned.
“When our training is complete,” Jack says. “How can you fight your enemies without leaving the room?”
“They…” I can’t speak. Honestly, I’d always imagined fighting them here. They’d come to me. I thought I could summon them the way my father does his subjects and councilors. I straighten up. Puff my chest out. “Very well. We’ll schedule a time.”
“But Master, didn’t you say that now is always the best time, in battle and in life?”
I grit my teeth. He’s doing it again. Quoting me.
“I’ll be there with you.” Jack opens the door.
My hand squeezes Jack’s. It’s more for his protection, I tell myself. All this… space. A master must keep track of her pupil. He’s come so far, but I don’t think he’s ready for me to let him get too far away. Not when there's so much obvious danger lurking about.
“See,” Jack says as he points to the large gates. “We just take a walk past that, turn around, and come back.”
My teeth grit tight. I want to clarify who’s the master and who is not, but I’m too busy keeping an eye on the people moving about the courtyard. Men and women, appearing to go about their day. Any one of them could be waiting until my back is turned for their moment to strike.
I move closer to Jack. The better to shield him from attack, I reason as I clutch his hand.
When we reach the gate, my breath catches in my throat. All the world seems to lie before me. We’re on a road that leads all the way to the horizon, maybe further than that. From my window, the trees have always looked so terribly short. Now they tower over me.
“How are you doing?” Jack asks.
“I should be the one concerned. You’ve still so much to learn.”
“Master Aliena, I have something I need to confess.” He puts both of his hands around mine. “My true intention was not to train as your pupil.”
Heat rises to my face. “Is this another one of your jokes? The true warrior never—”
“No,” Jack interrupts. “Your father, the king, he’s been worried about you. I asked for his permission to get you out of your room.”
“My father…” I can’t seem to follow.
“It was all my idea.” His cheeks blush in the fading twilight. “You probably don’t remember, but I knew you before you went into hiding. My father doesn’t work in the mines. He’s Tom, your father’s master builder.”
His words were like the sneakiest parry. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak.
“I can’t keep up this lie.” Jack squeezes my hands. “If you’ll still have me, I’d like to be your pupil, but I had to tell you the truth before we go on.”
Fooled by my own protégé.
My voice tries to waver, but I overpower it like the true warrior I am. “You betray me and then ask for further instruction? I couldn’t have been cut more deeply if you had struck me with Spiraling Razor!”
I shove him away. His face falls, as does his hands which hang useless at his sides. In the moment, I consider hammering him with an open palm, or leaving him on his back with a sweep of the legs. But the greatest hurt a warrior can feel is shame. I choose to leave him with that.
As I make my way back inside the castle walls the sun has fully set. I can barely tell where I’m setting down my feet. Sounds drift by in the night like hidden blades unsheathing. The meager starlight seems to be more of a burden, creating shadows all around me.
“Will of iron,” I whisper as I contemplate every attack an enemy could make, and how I would react.
My belt feels light and it’s then that I realize I’d left my sword in my room. The most common saying in the Art of the Warring Knights: Preparation is half the battle. Another hard won lesson from today. Another would be: don’t trust anybody. All they want to do is gain your trust, all while lying to your gullible face.
I start to realize that I’ve been walking too long. It didn’t take this long to get out past the gate. I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. It’s so dark now. My feet keep stepping over squishy round things. If only I could see in this gloom. My eyes are so used to the bright light of torches in my room.
Something hard smashes into me. As I bounce back and rub my face, two hands drop on my shoulder.
“Ha!” I grip both hands by the wrist and push up. My awesome strength overpowers my attacker. His hands fly upward. “You’ve made your last mistake!”
I sweep my right foot, trying to trip the assailant, so that I can then follow up with a closing strike to their throat. Unfortunately, my enemy has legs as strong and stiff as wood.
The explosion of pain in my leg is a tool, I tell myself. It will sharpen my resolve like the greatest whetstone. Hot tears build behind my eyes, and the bruised sensation in my leg grows, but I grit my teeth and bear it.
I give my best war-cry and pull my attacker’s arms. They both come away with little resistance. I fall backward and land on several of the round squishy things on the ground. There are patches of wetness under my legs and back.
Is that blood? I wonder as I keep hold of my foe's detached arms.
“Aliena!” A voice calls. “Sorry... Master Aliena—are you okay?”
I turn to see Jack running with a torch in his hand. As he gets closer the light spills over my surroundings. I’m in a melon field. I seem to have landed on a couple of them, their juice is what I feel underneath me.
“I went to your room but you weren’t there,” he says through his panting.
“I know I'm not there!” I snap. “I’m right here. I fought—” I look up at my attacker.
“A scarecrow?” Jack asks. “I guess it’s a step up from stuffed animals.”
I pick myself up and glare at him. The air is heavy with a mix of the smell of earth and the sweet aroma from the cracked melons.
“Hey!” A voice shouts. “You the ones pinching my melons?”
“Pinching his melons?” I ask.
“It means stealing,” Jack explains under his breath.
The man moves in from the darkness. He’s more than a foot taller than I am, taller than Jack. He’s bald, but has a thick beard that is so greasy that parts of it shine from Jack’s torch. He grabs my wrist and yanks me forward. My shoulder pops, but thankfully stays intact.
“Look at this!” He spins me around. “You think it’s funny to crush my crop? Don’t say it wasn’t you, you’ve got the stains all over your dress.”
“You had better let go of her,” Jack steps forward. “You’re holding the princess.”
“No one can hurt me,” I say, but in reality the man’s grip does sting a little.
“Yeah, right.” The man rolls his eyes. “Like I’d believe that. One, everyone knows that weird girl stays locked up in her tower. Two, look at her.” The man spins me around by my arm. “She’s filthy. You really think I’d fall for that?”
“I think you’ll fall when I knock you down!” I try to twist from his grasp, but he holds firm. His other hand flies out of nowhere and backhands me across the face.
New, falling, stars are added to the sky. Hot pressure again builds behind my eyes. I hear a ringing in my ears.
“No more of this foolishness,” The man says. “You’ll pay for the damages, or there’s more where that came from.”
“Jack,” I whisper as I rub my face.
“What?” He’s already at my side, glaring at the man.
As he drops the torch, moving into the stance, I spin so that my captured arm is behind my back. I jump and kick both feet into the man’s stomach. His belly is spongy and my feet seem to sink before they hit something hard. I feel his grip on my hand disappear as I’m launched away from him.
I hit the ground in a roll. When I come up, I see Jack slicing the air with his hand. So sharp is his attack that I think it might cut the wind in two. I’ve taught him well.
His hand crumples against the man’s shoulder. Jack’s face twists into one of pain. The man grabs Jack by the throat and lifts him into the air.
“Drive the knee!” I shout as my leg blasts upward into the man’s crotch.
He immediately drops Jack and collapses. I stand ready. Waiting for his next move, but the man just writhes on the ground.
“You should think twice before grabbing a warrior who’s read The Art of Warring Knights twenty-nine times.” I reach into the pocket of my dress, not really expecting to find anything as I rarely have need of money. My fingers close over a silver coin that I’d meant to give to Marjorie to have her bucket fixed. It was worth more than a few melons, but I couldn’t help but pity the man. I drop it near his face. “For the plants I destroyed.”
“And the scarecrow.” Jack rubs his throat and picks up the fallen torch.
“It attacked me.” I turn in the direction of the defeated scarecrow, but it’s too dark to see. The torchlight only goes so far.
“Should we tell your father about this?” Jack asks me.
“No,” I say. “This guy's not worth it.” I turn to Jack. “Do you still wish to be my pupil?"
“Yes,” Jack says. He glares down at the man. I see violence in his eyes. I take his free hand and lead him away. A warrior needs to know when the battle is over, or else he will fight the wrong enemies.
“Very well.” We turn back to the castle. “I’ll train you to fight and you train me to travel outside my room.” I look up into his eyes and say, “We’ll do what my father and his knights couldn’t.”
“Rescue your mother?” He asks, but it’s not so much a question as an agreement.
As we walk back to the castle, my legs shake underneath me. It must be the adrenaline from a battle well fought. My hand tightens on Jack's and he squeezes back. The world seems bigger than it had before. My safe room is so very far away. I think I may never get back and my lungs can't seem to get enough air.
My face still stings, and as I touch a finger to the sensitive skin, I remember the heavy thud as the man collapsed in the dirt. I had felt both awe and humility of my power. The memory is like steel casing around my nerves. My breathing settles and my legs steady themselves. I keep hold of Jack’s arm, not wanting to get lost again.
I think back to another verse from another book: One battle at a time leads to one victory at a time. I want to share it with my pupil, but I feel he’s learned so much today.
An Appeal to Darkness (or why your Rogue should succeed almost all of their stealth checks at night)
So, you're a Rogue with tons of experience in burglary, and you roll a 5. Let's say for argument's sake you've got a +6 Stealth bonus. Guess what? That means 25% of the time some random dude is gonna notice you're there despite being a professional sneaker-upper. That is tremendously unreliable and you'll probably be alone while 'scouting' for loot. Miss an attack 25% of the time? No biggie, you get another one next turn. Lose a stealth roll? Now the entire castle is on alert. The cost-benefit analysis does not favor stealth ever*.
\Not an actual claim or guarantee, some purchase necessary, see your DM for details)
But wait, says you, the DM, this is exactly how it works. You are correct. This is why the party chose to infiltrate at night. They get advantage, right? WRONG. Bad DM. Sit with your mistake quietly in the corner. The cloak of darkness (not to be confused with the spell and accompanying Warlock abusing it) makes the area the Rogue is sneaking in heavily obscured. Torchlight only reliably stretches out 20ft, then it becomes lightly obscured for another 20ft. Let's take a look at the rules for obscured areas:
Darkness and other Effects that obscure vision can prove a significant hindrance.
A given area might be lightly or heavily obscured. In a lightly obscured area, such as dim light, patchy fog, or moderate foliage, creatures have disadvantage on Wisdom (Perception) checks that rely on sight.
A heavily obscured area - such as Darkness, opaque fog, or dense foliage - blocks vision entirely. A creature effectively suffers from the blinded condition when trying to see something in that area.
A creature trying to spot something in darkness cannot do so. And if they're in the dim portion of light, the Rogue doesn't get advantage, the creature sitting there picking their nose gets disadvantage. If you know about passive perception, you know where I'm heading. When a creature has disadvantage on a passive check, they just get a -5 to their passive score. That means the passive perception of that average guard is a 7. That +6 bonus your Rogue has? Just try and fail that check now. Thousands of rogues are cheated out of stealth checks every day. Please, do your part and let your Rogue sneak.
But my monster can hear the Rogue!
Look, I get it, you don't want to have your stuff completely bypassed by one flanky boi. I want you to try something. Stand up and try to sneak up on someone who can't see you. Chances are, you, as a completely untrained peasant, can do so with reasonable success. Now, imagine a skilled acrobat with oiled leathers and padded shoes. Unless you are walking through stick/rubble covered terrain or on top of a piano or talking to your friend loudly on the sending stone, you are silent. If you absolutely can't get over this, then just make it so moving silently halves your movement speed.
The Rogue can't see in darkness either!
Yes. You are correct. If you are a Rogue sneaking in the darkness, make sure you have some way to see, either with darkvision or lights to guide you without moving within them. Otherwise you are likely to walk into a wall and then you'll make some noise and the guy above will be finally be right on the internet.
RAW you can't sneak in dim light because you are always able to be seen!
Fine, if you want to be that pedantic, tell your Rogue to be a Wood Elf. Darkvision and the ability to sneak while lightly obscured. You know what, RAW if your Wood Elf covers themselves with leaves they can sneak even in bright light because 'moderate foliage' counts as being lightly obscured.
RAW darkness blocks line of sight and therefore someone in the dark can't see light out of it!
If you are willing to accept this, congratulations, you have been promoted to the Rules Lawyer Supreme Court.