Since Mara fights with two weapons, the following article should prove interesting:
Thanks for the link! When I first saw the PH, I knew that they were setting up all of the missing archetypes (like the two-weaponed fighter) for the inevitable supplements. I don't currently intend to buy any more 4e books, but I will certainly swap out some of those feats when I next revisit Mara's build.
Given the realities of my workload of late, I'm switching to a M-W-F update schedule for the near future.
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Chapter 32
Wooden blades danced in a violent storm in the clearing near the mountain cabin. Mara and Torvan dodged and weaved, their boots stamping up small puffs of snow as they sparred. Each carried a wooden sword in each hand, which moved in blurs of motion as they stabbed, slashed, and parried.
Finally, Torvan overextended himself on a lunge, and the young woman darted under his reach, slapping the shorter of her two weapons up into his wrist. One of his weapons went flying. He spun around and swung his other sword in a blinding arc toward her neck, but she dropped into a crouch, and as the weapon sliced over her head, she laid the points of both of her weapons against Torvan’s groin.
“Yield?” she asked, with a hint of a smile.
“I suppose I’d better, if I want to be able to walk home,” he growled. He walked over to where his first sword had fallen, grimacing slightly as he bent to pick it up. He had turned his body to shield it from Mara, but she did not miss it.
“Are you all right, uncle?”
“Fine, fine. Just an old body letting me know that it’s displeased.”
“We keep returning to the two-sword style. Why do you give that so much emphasis? In your books, most of the references are to the large two-hander, or to the sword-and-shield style.”
Torvan clacked his wooden swords together to clear the clinging snow off the one that had fallen. “Bah. Most fighters you meet will tell you that the two-sword style is for the self-styled ‘rangers’, or court duelists who play for touches with weapons that would break if you parried them with a real blade. But it’s all about speed, girl. You’ve gotten stronger, but you’d never be able to hold up against a man my size with a heavy blade. And as for the shield... well, I’ve taught you how to use one... what’s the answer to your question?”
“Speed, and visibility,” she said. “The off-hand blade gives you the option of parrying, but also of a counter from a direction that the foe doesn’t expect.”
He nodded. “Good. It’s getting late, why don’t you...”
But he trailed off and turned suddenly in the direction of the trail that led down off the mountain. Mara heard it too, a clip of hooves on the rough soil of the path; multiple horses, by the sound.
Torvan moved quickly to the log where his sword rested. “Get back to the cabin,” he told Mara.
“But uncle...”
“Do it. Get the other swords.”
He kept his weapon in hand, but did not draw as he walked over to the cabin, taking up a position facing the trail.
The riders came into view. There were four of them, the last leading a fifth horse, equipped with a riding saddle instead of a pack saddle. All four were humans, broad-shouldered men in their twenties and thirties. They were all clad in armor ranging from breastplates of boiled leather to heavier shirts of dense chain links, and each carried an assortment of weapons.
They reined in their horses as they spotted Torvan, spreading out to form a line facing him. Their horses snorted, sending out plumes of white mist in the cold air.
“Torvan Lendoran?” asked one of the men, a lean fellow clad in chainmail and a blue tabard bearing the mark of a rearing bear.
“Aye, that’s me,” Torvan said. He held his sword easy at his side, but his body seemed like a coiled spring, ready to move.
“My name is Gael Hallas,” the man said. “Lord Bregan Zelos sends us with word that Dal Durga’s raiders are on the march. They have already struck two frontier villages, and Lord Zelos is creating a force to stop them before they can swing south into richer lands.”
“I am no longer in the Lord’s service,” Torvan said.
Gael’s mouth tightened in obvious disapproval. “The entire region is at risk, man. Lord Zelos said to give this to you.” He drew out a small, tightly wrapped parchment from a pouch at his belt, and handed it to Torvan. Torvan took his time, breaking the seal with his thumb, then unrolling the scroll to scan it, keeping his sword held easily in the crook of his arm.
Mara had emerged from the cabin, a pair of sheathed swords held together in her hands. She remained on the porch, watching the riders warily.
Torvan finished his reading. “All right,” he said. “Give me five minutes to get my things together. Wait here.”
He walked back toward the cabin. “Uncle?”
“I’m sorry, girl; I have obligations that predate your arrival into my life. I have to go.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No. You’ll remain here. I don’t want my cabin to end up as the winter den for some bear, or a pack of goblins. It’s just a band of raiders; I’ll be back soon enough.”
“But...”
“Don’t question me, girl,” he said gruffly, pushing past her and disappearing into the cabin.
The riders watched her. The one on the end of the line smiled at her, but there was something in his eyes that send a cold chill down the back of her neck. He smirked, and whispered something to his companion; both men laughed. She wanted to go inside after Torvan, but she forced herself to remain standing there, a frozen look of cool calm set on her features.
Her uncle returned quickly, well short of the allotted five minutes. In addition to his sword, he carried a short-handled axe balanced for throwing, and an unstrung longbow thrust through the straps of a bulging travel pack. He wore under his furs a breastplate of dull iron, one strap still dangling unfastened. Mara stepped in front of him and attended to the strap.
“I don’t want to stay here alone,” she said, under her breath so that only she could hear.
“Life rarely gives us what we want,” he said. “I will be back.”
And with that, he left.