Not all of them used bare hands of course. Orjin knew eight different weapons well enough to use in combat, and there were a number of experts, such as a [Peerless Spearmaster], a pair of [Fencers] in training, a retired [Assassin], and a few [Weapon Experts]. But most were [Martial Artists], albeit with unique specializations and variations of the class.
The [Peerless Spearmaster] blinked. He yawned, and Orjin wondered if he’d been actually listening. The Garuda was a [Spearmaster]—perhaps the best in the world if you believed his class.
It was a well-reasoned argument. The warriors of Pomle looked at each other, and Salii looked a bit smug—for all of a second. Then a Stitch-man brushed hair out of his face. He hadn’t cut his hair in the six years since he’d come here to learn from Xil, the great [Peerless Spearmaster] Garuda. Orjin had never heard him speak, but the young man replied to the Drake now.
It had never been a challenge. The last person to put up a fight that lasted more than thirty seconds had been Xil, the [Peerless Spearmaster]. He had flown in thirty years ago, having just been dishonorably discharged from Nerrhavia’s armies, and demanded they settle a score from Pomle’s war for independence.
Some stayed true to a style. Xil had been the Strongest for a decade with his spear until he had given up on the post. Orjin had been there. He had seen the [Peerless Spearmaster] let his best apprentice tap him on the chest—and then the new Strongest had lost the title within the hour.
One was Xil, the aforementioned [Peerless Spearmaster]. He was an old Garuda, one of the oldest in Pomle. His wing feathers were ragged, and he stayed on the ground a lot because seventy years had made his bones brittler than he liked.
Jalte had [Ironmarrow Bones], which did. He no longer flew, and he was so heavy that Xil could flit around him. But the [Peerless Spearmaster] had put his entire force into the spear-strikes, and the fragile Garuda body whose bones normally broke easier than any other species—
“Yes. And she asked which style she should learn. My own is made up of many others and self-taught. But Xil is the [Peerless Spearmaster]; no greater exists in all of Nerrhavia’s Fallen. Perhaps all Chandrar. With a spear, he claims, a warrior can do anything, be anything. And Salthorn is a grappler.”
The [Innkeeper] swore she saw the Garuda who stood up slowly and lifted his spear—smile. Xil, the [Peerless Spearmaster], joined the bare-chested warrior that never looked at Erin, the young Stitch-man with gauntlets, and the boy with a staff.
