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Description
Hareld cast his eyes over the recruits as they practiced their close combat skills. He had once been a front line soldier, but slowly, time had gotten the better of him. Despite this, however, Hareld was still a formidable fighter, and his superiors had seen the wisdom in making him an instructor. It was his duty to make sure that the recruits were well trained in all forms of hand-to-hand combat. Today, the young ones were practicing their skills with combat knives. Hareld had paired them off, and as he watched, one pair in particular caught his attention. A girl, Tara-Li, circled her partner, a boy named Janson. Tara-Li made a couple of mock attacks, each time drawing Janson into lunging for her. Finally, Janson lunged too far, and Tara-Li's blade stuck home, leaving a red mark across Janson's chest. Hareld had had enough.
"STOP!" he yelled, his thick Scottish accent cutting through the air.
He marched over to the pair, pointing his claymore at Janson.
"You, Laddie. What in the name of the ancestors do ya think you're doing? How many times have I told ya not to be over reaching like that? All ya doing is leaving yourself open for a counter strike!"
The boy stared wide-eyed at the imposing instructor, and tried to speak.
"B-b-but, Sir..."
"Don't give me not buts, Laddie," Hareld growled. "Butts are for sittin' on."
Hareld held out a hand to Janson, demanding the boy's training knife, and thrust his claymore back in return, causing Janson stagger as he struggled with the weight of the sword. Hareld turned to Tara-Li and nodded, inviting her to attack him. Tara-Li took up the challenge as her classmates gathered around to see the demonstration. She tried the same tactics that she had on Janson, circling and making mock strikes. Hareld didn't bite. The duel dragged on, and Tara-Li grew impatient. Her feints came closer and closer. She tried one more strike, attempting to draw the master into a mistake, but suddenly found herself spun around as Hareld grabbed her arm unexpectedly, and twisted it behind her. Tara-Li felt the cold metal of his knife drag across her throat. In a real fight, she would have been dead. But the training knives were special. The blades were blunt, and stained with ink to mark out a successful strike. Hareld tossed the training knife back to Janson, and reclaimed his claymore.
"And that's how ya should be doing it," he said to the recruits. "Be patient, and wait for your opponent to make the first mistake."
He turned and walked to the side of the training ground, his sword resting against his shoulder.
"Now do it properly this time..."

The recruits began training again, and Hareld chuckled to himself as another instructor, Margock, joined him. The two grizzled veterans, distant cousins and good friends, watched the future of the Legion practice their skills.
"This lot's going to be trouble," Margock said with a growl.
"They're young, that's all," Hareld replied, causing Margock to shrug.
"Same difference."
Hareld chuckled. They both had a reputation for pushing recruits as hard as they could, but it was for a good reason. They had never trained a failure yet, and they didn't intend to start now...

Hareld was created by , and he has generously allowed me to use him.

Description
Hareld cast his eyes over the recruits as they practiced their close combat skills. He had once been a front line soldier, but slowly, time had gotten the better of him. Despite this, however, Hareld was still a formidable fighter, and his superiors had seen the wisdom in making him an instructor. It was his duty to make sure that the recruits were well trained in all forms of hand-to-hand combat. Today, the young ones were practicing their skills with combat knives. Hareld had paired them off, and as he watched, one pair in particular caught his attention. A girl, Tara-Li, circled her partner, a boy named Janson. Tara-Li made a couple of mock attacks, each time drawing Janson into lunging for her. Finally, Janson lunged too far, and Tara-Li's blade stuck home, leaving a red mark across Janson's chest. Hareld had had enough.
"STOP!" he yelled, his thick Scottish accent cutting through the air.
He marched over to the pair, pointing his claymore at Janson.
"You, Laddie. What in the name of the ancestors do ya think you're doing? How many times have I told ya not to be over reaching like that? All ya doing is leaving yourself open for a counter strike!"
The boy stared wide-eyed at the imposing instructor, and tried to speak.
"B-b-but, Sir..."
"Don't give me not buts, Laddie," Hareld growled. "Butts are for sittin' on."
Hareld held out a hand to Janson, demanding the boy's training knife, and thrust his claymore back in return, causing Janson stagger as he struggled with the weight of the sword. Hareld turned to Tara-Li and nodded, inviting her to attack him. Tara-Li took up the challenge as her classmates gathered around to see the demonstration. She tried the same tactics that she had on Janson, circling and making mock strikes. Hareld didn't bite. The duel dragged on, and Tara-Li grew impatient. Her feints came closer and closer. She tried one more strike, attempting to draw the master into a mistake, but suddenly found herself spun around as Hareld grabbed her arm unexpectedly, and twisted it behind her. Tara-Li felt the cold metal of his knife drag across her throat. In a real fight, she would have been dead. But the training knives were special. The blades were blunt, and stained with ink to mark out a successful strike. Hareld tossed the training knife back to Janson, and reclaimed his claymore.
"And that's how ya should be doing it," he said to the recruits. "Be patient, and wait for your opponent to make the first mistake."
He turned and walked to the side of the training ground, his sword resting against his shoulder.
"Now do it properly this time..."

The recruits began training again, and Hareld chuckled to himself as another instructor, Margock, joined him. The two grizzled veterans, distant cousins and good friends, watched the future of the Legion practice their skills.
"This lot's going to be trouble," Margock said with a growl.
"They're young, that's all," Hareld replied, causing Margock to shrug.
"Same difference."
Hareld chuckled. They both had a reputation for pushing recruits as hard as they could, but it was for a good reason. They had never trained a failure yet, and they didn't intend to start now...

Hareld was created by , and he has generously allowed me to use him.