Continued from here
21st Day of Winter, 512AV
Blue Bull Tavern
Razkar felt his pulse quicken as he descended the stairs with Kevlar. Well, in his wake would be more accurate. The giant Akalak cast a shadow big enough to swallow Razkar entirely, and Razkar knew that this giant was no lumbering ox, either. He was fast and sure and experienced.
And, as Kevlar turned to face him in the rough open space in the basement, unblemished. He'd been alive for years, decades, maybe even centuries, but his face was still smooth and handsome, the nose unbroken, with all his own teeth and both ears.
Razkar noted that with some sense of awe. To go through a lifetime - several lifetimes - of street fighting and come away without a scratch on your face? You either had to be very, very lucky or very, very, very dangerous.
"Ready to-"
Razkar lashed out with his right foot and hammered the Akalak under the kneecap. The huge man grunted and swayed on his feet, but his body was already moving in response-
-forearm sweeping vertically to knock away the short jab Razkar aimed at his jaw, knocking it to the side, exposing his face-
-and Razkar's vision became a huge, crashing forehead.
He reeled backwards as the headbutt slammed into his own and blackness filled his vision. But he remembered what Kevlar had taught him before: react. Don't slow, don't stop moving, and use anything that you can.
Razkar fell against the back wall, cushioned by what felt like bags of grain. His right hand dropped into an open one as the Akalak surged forwards, right arm cocked back-
-as Razkar swept his hand out the bag and tossed a cloud of grain into the big man's face.
"Petching-"
Kevlar growled and blinked just a second too late, flecks of grain biting into his eyes. Blinded, the punch became wild, Razkar ducking under it-
-but not the knee that followed it.
The Myrian was doubled over as a knee the size of his head caught him square in the gut and seemed to turn his lower spine to jelly. A chopping hand slammed onto his shoulder, right next to his neck, expertly scrambling the nerve cluster nestling there. His whole right side went numb for a moment and the stone floor rushed up to greet him.
He lay there groaning, feeling rather than hearing footsteps retreating from him and then a deep, appreciative but slightly mocking laugh. He blinked and kept blinking until his vision was halfway normal and saw Kevlar leaning against the pillar not even breathing hard, absently picking grain out of his stubble.
"Not a bad effort, Myrian." He said, sincerity in his voice but the conditional kind, as if complimenting a student that still had a long way to go. Which was broadly accurate, actually. "But I'm no stranger to fighting blind. Same principle-"
"Principle?"
Kevlar pursed his lips, patient with the Myrian and his grasp of Common. It certainly was coming on well, but some words were still beyond him. A voice echoed in his own skull, half-mocking, half-amused.
Yeah, and you don't hear the word "principle" around here much, do ya?
"Idea."
"Oh."
"Same idea as with your eyes open, but you back away after you throw your punches." Then his voice became critical. "But you still tried to go toe to toe. Goin' for my jaw, Myrian? With our height difference?" He patted his crotch and tut-tutted like a disapproving parent. "You know where you should have aimed for."
Razkar nodded reluctantly, but was listening to every word. He was still learning the finer points of brawling, and prime among them was that "fine points" were overrated. A good, solid boot or kneecap to the crotch would floor most men, and once on the floor, well, the fight was practically over. It certainly was when he and Kevlar last sparred.
He rubbed his bruised stomach and smirked.
"Fought good blind." He backed up, well out of arms length, and put up his hands. "Again?"
Kevlar's eyes searched the Myrian's, but his body made no move to advance or strike. Just before Razkar started to get confused, he shook his head. Now he was all serious, but his brows were knitted together like he was still thinking. Formulating, planning... planning his lesson.
"I know you can take yer lumps, boy. Tonight I'm gonna get a little more... specific. Know that word?"
"Yes, have heard."
"Particuar moves. Technical stuff, not just reacting. Think you can handle at?"
With his forehead and stomach screeching at him to say "no", Razkar grinned even wider and nodded. The Akalak's low laugh rumbled through the stone basement. The tavern was muted above them, occasional roar roar outside now a mere murmur through the cobbles. Kevlar cracked his neck left... then right... and nodded sharply.
"Good. Now, pay attention."
He moved faster than anyone that size had any right to, right arm cocked close and jabbing out towards Razkar's face-
21st Day of Winter, 512AV
Blue Bull Tavern
Razkar felt his pulse quicken as he descended the stairs with Kevlar. Well, in his wake would be more accurate. The giant Akalak cast a shadow big enough to swallow Razkar entirely, and Razkar knew that this giant was no lumbering ox, either. He was fast and sure and experienced.
And, as Kevlar turned to face him in the rough open space in the basement, unblemished. He'd been alive for years, decades, maybe even centuries, but his face was still smooth and handsome, the nose unbroken, with all his own teeth and both ears.
Razkar noted that with some sense of awe. To go through a lifetime - several lifetimes - of street fighting and come away without a scratch on your face? You either had to be very, very lucky or very, very, very dangerous.
"Ready to-"
Razkar lashed out with his right foot and hammered the Akalak under the kneecap. The huge man grunted and swayed on his feet, but his body was already moving in response-
-forearm sweeping vertically to knock away the short jab Razkar aimed at his jaw, knocking it to the side, exposing his face-
-and Razkar's vision became a huge, crashing forehead.
He reeled backwards as the headbutt slammed into his own and blackness filled his vision. But he remembered what Kevlar had taught him before: react. Don't slow, don't stop moving, and use anything that you can.
Razkar fell against the back wall, cushioned by what felt like bags of grain. His right hand dropped into an open one as the Akalak surged forwards, right arm cocked back-
-as Razkar swept his hand out the bag and tossed a cloud of grain into the big man's face.
"Petching-"
Kevlar growled and blinked just a second too late, flecks of grain biting into his eyes. Blinded, the punch became wild, Razkar ducking under it-
-but not the knee that followed it.
The Myrian was doubled over as a knee the size of his head caught him square in the gut and seemed to turn his lower spine to jelly. A chopping hand slammed onto his shoulder, right next to his neck, expertly scrambling the nerve cluster nestling there. His whole right side went numb for a moment and the stone floor rushed up to greet him.
He lay there groaning, feeling rather than hearing footsteps retreating from him and then a deep, appreciative but slightly mocking laugh. He blinked and kept blinking until his vision was halfway normal and saw Kevlar leaning against the pillar not even breathing hard, absently picking grain out of his stubble.
"Not a bad effort, Myrian." He said, sincerity in his voice but the conditional kind, as if complimenting a student that still had a long way to go. Which was broadly accurate, actually. "But I'm no stranger to fighting blind. Same principle-"
"Principle?"
Kevlar pursed his lips, patient with the Myrian and his grasp of Common. It certainly was coming on well, but some words were still beyond him. A voice echoed in his own skull, half-mocking, half-amused.
Yeah, and you don't hear the word "principle" around here much, do ya?
"Idea."
"Oh."
"Same idea as with your eyes open, but you back away after you throw your punches." Then his voice became critical. "But you still tried to go toe to toe. Goin' for my jaw, Myrian? With our height difference?" He patted his crotch and tut-tutted like a disapproving parent. "You know where you should have aimed for."
Razkar nodded reluctantly, but was listening to every word. He was still learning the finer points of brawling, and prime among them was that "fine points" were overrated. A good, solid boot or kneecap to the crotch would floor most men, and once on the floor, well, the fight was practically over. It certainly was when he and Kevlar last sparred.
He rubbed his bruised stomach and smirked.
"Fought good blind." He backed up, well out of arms length, and put up his hands. "Again?"
Kevlar's eyes searched the Myrian's, but his body made no move to advance or strike. Just before Razkar started to get confused, he shook his head. Now he was all serious, but his brows were knitted together like he was still thinking. Formulating, planning... planning his lesson.
"I know you can take yer lumps, boy. Tonight I'm gonna get a little more... specific. Know that word?"
"Yes, have heard."
"Particuar moves. Technical stuff, not just reacting. Think you can handle at?"
With his forehead and stomach screeching at him to say "no", Razkar grinned even wider and nodded. The Akalak's low laugh rumbled through the stone basement. The tavern was muted above them, occasional roar roar outside now a mere murmur through the cobbles. Kevlar cracked his neck left... then right... and nodded sharply.
"Good. Now, pay attention."
He moved faster than anyone that size had any right to, right arm cocked close and jabbing out towards Razkar's face-
