Friar Fight



The soft rain pattered against the puddles mud that lay down the road to Cotswold.  In the distance horses could be heard in the stables.   The voice from the tavern carried even loudly throughout the rainfall.


The dark robed figured trotted down the muddy road, his staff in front of every step caking the mud upon its bottom as he moved.   Hooded, the rain seemed to bead down the side of his hood and cloak.  Onward he trotted towards the great city of Camelot.


Passing through the village he noticed many new adventurers bartering with eager merchants at the young warriors perusing their wares.  To the side of the bridge this figured moved and notice young Acolytes practicing staff styles on each other, honing their skills.   The wore novice robes, and their heads still shaved from their first confirmation into the brotherhood.


The robed figure stepped into the circle, cocked his head and grinned. Positioning his staff across his front.


“Care for a lesson?”


Carefully the 5 students formed a circle around the robed figured.


It was then it had seemed like all noise had stopped, only the wind blowing down the causeway gave any hint of sound.   The sound was pristine, you could hear the grains of sand tumbling over each other, the leaves of the trees wrapping in the wind.


The whistling of the staff came through the wind, sensing it was to his right the robed figure took up his staff and parried in incoming one.  With his left hand he grabbed the novice’s robe and tugged him forward over his own foot. 


Two more novices charged with staves, quickly the robed figured jump and spread his legs, one each kicking the novices in the head.  They were thrust back five feet sliding to the ground dazed.


The fourth novice came flying in like a whirling dervish; quickly the robed figured dodged up and down and danced around the novice.   Quickly he drew up his staff and struck at the novice, quickly the novice saw the attack and began jabbing with his staff.


Knowing his impatience would get him; the robed figure grabbed the thrusting staff in mid thrust, using his own momentum to plunge him forward onto the novice.   Drawing up his elbow the robed figure smashed the novice in the fast cloth lining him to the ground.


Standing in the middle of the 4 dazed novices the robed figure like a statue holding a staff in each hand looked to the remaining novice.


The novice, obviously seeing the challenge that lay ahead of him drew two dirks from his back twirling them and crouched to a defensive stance.


The robed figure toss one staff to the ground and twirled the other round in the air.  Taking his stance he again twirled the staff around to his back with his arm draped over it, with his left hand forward…. almost in a beckoning motion.


It seemed an eternity passed, the novice staring into the eyes of the robed one, as if waiting for that sign, that moment to launch their attack.


As the high noon sun crept over the trees the ray of like cut thru the leaves forming a spotlight around the two warriors, as pretext for a fight.




The novice launched himself towards the robed figure, right blade forward, left blade high.  Quickly the robed figure drew his staff twirling around to the front parrying the right blade, quickly the left blade made its way for his torso.  The robed figure then twirled his body round the novice to his read and pushed off from his back.


The novice spun around then rushed again, vigilantly the robed figured parried the attacks both again.  It was then in that moment the novice in mid parry kicked out towards the middle of the staff snapping it in two.




Quickly the robed figured took each part of the broken staff in each hand and begin a furry of blows against he novice.   The novice returned with a mighty whirlwind of blades. 








It was a beautiful dance or blades and clubs, the two warriors danced around each other parry and waving their weapons, none of them scoring a hit.


Then the novice quickly turned his back, thinking this to be a false move the robed warrior quickly attacked then retreated quickly.  The novice then moved his blades in a backward motion


Evaded the apparent backstab the robed figure brought his dual sticks around to the front smashing down on the chest of the novice, pummeling him to the ground.


The robed figure then walked away across the bridge and up to the gates of Camelot city where the master of the brotherhood awaited him.


“You have done well” said the master.


“Thank you, I have returned from my journey, my task is complete.”


“You are free of your duty to the brotherhood, you may now choose to stay in Albion or leave forever.”


The robed figure, Morvegil, warrior of the robes and staff looked out over the lands of Albion and puzzled his future.


Stay or journey onwards to new realms….the question every veteran must make.