Flashback Do You Even Lift? [Razkar]

[Tinnok]

Do You Even Lift? The 1st of Spring 509 A.V. “Get up, snake spawn.” The words traveled through muddied senses, though Tinnok snapped awake nearly an instant later, it was an instant too late to avoid the resounding kick that sent her out of her hammock and onto the floor. She hissed and leapt up, head throbbing and hands aching. She was going to throttle whichever of her three sisters who had done this. That was when she turned and saw Rarik standing there, a shyke eating grin plastered upon his features. Instead of going for his neck she just sent a solid kick to his groin, furious. His look of glee transformed to one of pain as he collapsed to the floor. “Myri’s name, Tin!” Her response was a growl of anger that she let slide through her teeth in a calming breath. “I expect it from them, Rik, but not you.” Her brother slowly collected himself and shook his head. “I was just getting you ready for today, save you having to face ‘em.” “Thanks.” The sarcasm dripped from her voice like venom from an adder, but she offered a hand and helped Rarik off the floor, glancing outside into the utter darkness. “What bloody time is it?” “Four bells before dawn.” Tinnok gave her brother a glare and he just grinned again, making her want to throw a punch to his gut. “And why am I up four bells before dawn?” His expression became a bit more serious. “You need everything you can get, Tin. Being a recruit is like shipping you off to Dira, period. And you’re a half breed snake, petch it they’re going to rip you limb from limb, might as well start early and give you every bit of help you can get.” The mixed blood rubbed her face. “I get what you’re saying, Rik, but none of that shyke’s gunna matter to them. They want to kill half of me, and kick the petch out of the other, getting there early isn’t going to count for Tskanna balls.” Rarik shrugged. “Well, plenty of time to get ready anyway.” Tin couldn’t help but smirk at her younger sibling, and just shook her head, ruffling his long hair before shoving him bodily into a wall and leaving the room. Caiyha, she loved that petching nuisance. He wasn’t half wrong though, she thought. It certainly beat the wakeup call her mother or sisters would give her, so the mixed blood made her way through the house, bending her body ever so slightly and taking careful steps with her bare feet in order to ensure she didn’t frak up the opportunity she had been so generously given by her brother. It was easiest to sneak in her bare feet, and she knew the wooden floor boards of the lodge like the back of her hand, placing the balls of her feet and lowering her weight step by step until she had snuck the length of the room and was at the front door. She went off a bit from the lodge to ensure she couldn’t be interrupted by prying eyes, nor would she wake any of her fellows. Sleep still hung in her weary eyes, but the thought of the day that awaited her sobered her up rather rapidly. First, stretches. She lay down along her legs, long nailed fingers reaching past her toes to touch the ground. She liked the feeling of the thin layer of scales that lay upon her flesh, how they lifted up when she pulled her hands back across them before running them back and smoothing them out. She pulled one leg over the other, pulling it tight to her chest, alternating, then lying flat on her stomach and cracking her back. Her legs went up over her head, then flipped back in a maneuver she had learned that would give her the momentum to jump to her feet without using her hands, a helpful trick when one was carrying weapons. She pulled up her legs, made them split wide across the ground, and a comforting feeling of soreness filled her body after about a bell, making her feel the way her muscles stretched and became more limber. Then came the pushups. She was a wiry individual, but the utilizing of her longbow required a serious amount of upper arm strength, and she lay her body flat to the ground before allowing herself to push up again. She did several set before arms shook with every attempt to lift her light body from the ground, teeth grinding together with the effort her body tried to put behind it. She knew she was a weakling, and tried to lay every insult she could upon herself, racial slurs and otherwise in an altogether separate mental preparation of the day to come. After this she did sit ups, sliding her feet under the roots of tree and heaving herself up using the muscles in her abdomen until her stomach burned with the effort. After that she gave herself half a bell of a break. This was only a warm up to whatever onslaught would go on today, she shouldn’t wear herself out so fast. She snuck back into the large to grab a canteen of water and hydrate a bit, drinking plenty so that she could piss before training began. Then came the sprints. She went a bit into the forest for this. It was a dual exercise for her, since warming up not speed was the ultimate goal. She remained bare foot, and concentrated upon the ground as she ran. She focused on where she put her feet, using a similar technique to that of the one that required traversing the lodge floor. The idea was to avoid any leaves or foliage that would obviously crack and crunch beneath her weight. She heard that Patient Shadows could full out sprint across the jungle without making even the barest whisper when they passed, and it was something she was keen on learning. First she started out walking, much as she had on the wooden floor, then sprinted back to her starting point and did the route again with an ever increasing pace. It wasn’t a flawless procedure, for the activity was easy when there was just loamy soil, but extremely difficult when your feet had no option other than touching piles of leaves. She tried alternating patterns, letting her feet jump onto roots that couldn’t crunch, but this ended up slowing her down more than it was worth, or at least it seemed that way. When her side began to hurt from the exertion Tinnok stopped, eyes gazing up into the sky to see it lightening. She cursed Syna, then apologized curtly to the Goddess and strode back towards the lodge: Time to get dressed. And that was the process that led to Tinnok of the Tempered Steel arriving in the Training Yards just as Syna began to peek over the horizon. She arrived early, but so had practically all the other recruits. Her long bow was strung over her shoulder, both daggers tucked into the belt at her hip, arrows peeking out at an angle from her shoulder. It seemed a pile of weapons had formed upon the side of the yard, it was doubtful that they’d be using them the first day, but it was rare for a Myrian to travel without their arsenal. Tinnok strode to the side and laid down her arms with the collection, then turned to see the gazes she was used to witnessing boring into her like a gem cutter into a precious stone. She rolled her shoulders back and strode forward into the group without a word. Her dark skin betrayed the faint glitter of scales, Ebony hair wound tightly and fitted to the back of her neck. She wore merely enough cloth to cover her breasts and loin, revealing the toned musculature that every Myrian worked to maintain. She noted that most were dressed as she. It was going to be a hot day, no point in modesty here when it was sure to be stripped to the bone regardless. Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth. Then she saw their torturers emerge in the growing light.

[Razkar]

"I don't suppose it would help me to object to this again?"

"I don't know. That depends on how many teeth you want to keep."

Razkar signed but left his response at that. His fang leader was evidently not in the mood for jest. Not that jesting was something that Rehkuna was known for. For more than half a year she had been Razkar's direct superior, leader of the ten-person fang that he belonged to. She was a fierce and tested warrior, but she knew how to lead her people, too. Razkar could see, however, that she was bred solely for war. Any other social interaction was... difficult for her.

"I don't like it much either, boy." She rumbled, fingers tapping on the hilt of her gladius impatiently as she scowled at the approaching recruits. "But Kreesha wants the recruits to get a taste of combat from us before they go on to the recruiters."

"Why?"

"I don't petching know. Instructors are probably overloaded as is. Our people breed like bloody rabbits when the moon's right..."

Razkar stayed silent and looked to his left and right. A few others from his fang were lined up with them, wearing expressions ranging from resentment to boredom to scorn. Most were recruits like him, there to serve their three years and go back to their families. Some, like Rehkuna, would be in this Yard and in that Army until age or enemy struck them down. Razkar had not decided if that was to be his path, but...

"Dhani!"

The word was hissed, not shouted in a raising of the alarm, and Razkar wondered why even as his hand snapped to his hand ax. Then he saw why: one of the fresh meat's skin shimmered and glittered in a suggestion of scales. He frowned at her, eyebrows deepened slowly as he took her in.

Tall and strong, as any Myrian female should be. But her skin was not as dark as one would expect, made lighter by the reflective scales. Other than that she looked like a Myrian, here hair braided tightly, almost painfully, and her eyes...

Razkar's own eyes widened. Slits instead of pupils, and sharp, sickly yellow centers staring out at the world like a python. Instantly his hand gripped the hilt of his weapon tighter. The Ancient Enemy, as his clan had always referred to the Dhani... and one of them was right here. No, a half-breed, it had to be. A true Dhani would not have gotten past the gates, and even if it did, it would never have left the Myrian's sacred capital.

Razkar shook his head slowly, first in disgust, and then in pity. He prayed the poor female who spawned this thing did not suffer more than fate had decreed she had to, and she made her rapist regret ever touching her.

"The petch is that doing here?!"

"She is of age to begin training, and shut the petch up, Raz. Like I said, I don't like it, either, but I ain't gonna say it a third time."

Razkar knew from experience she would not. So he waited, eyes fixed on the half-breed, loathing and revulsion in equal pouring from them. He could feel the same from each of his brethren from the fang.

A taste, is it? Well, we can guarantee you that, abomination...

His gaze didn't waver as Rehkuna stepped forwards into the sun of the courtyard and "greeted" the recruits.

[Tinnok]

“Alright, scum!” The voice screamed. Tin’s body became rigid in the briefest instant. There were so many bloody stares it was hard to pinpoint where the most hostility was coming from. Oh, right. It was on every side of her, burning like a forest fire from each and every one of these people who she might someday have to rely on in combat: Utterly comforting thought that was. The new blood lined up fairly succinctly, staring at the massively muscled woman who had spoken. She reminded Tinnok of a tiger the way her eyes looked ready to eat the first thing to show a sign of weakness. There were others in the front with her, and she caught the gaze of a male that had an entirely different look in his gaze. She caught and held his eyes for a moment, amber gaze focused hard upon it. The same hate, disgust, and bred desire to extinguish a sworn enemy. It was a look that was familiar to the half breed, but the intensity of it still made her draw a separate breath. Today she would surely remember for years to come, not as the day that she was whipped into shape, but as the day all her fellows that hated what she was would get to beat the shyke out of her. Her eyes whipped away from his, empty of emotion, whether it be hurt, fear, or rage. The yard was silent as death, an event that merely took a few ticks to accomplish. A feral grin that only reinforced Tin’s previous thought spread across the woman’s face. It was not a comforting expression. “So meat, it turns out you are so pathetic the real recruiters didn’t want to waste their time taking a shyke on your faces, and gave you over to us. You’ll each be pairing up with one of mine and sparring so I can see how much a failure you are to Myri, myself. Perhaps if you don’t utterly fail me or my soldiers you’ll be lucky enough to start the real training tomorrow.” Tin saw more than several pairs of eager eyes mentally disembowel her at the woman’s words. Well at least she wouldn’t have to worry about a sparring partner…The new recruits stood awkwardly there for a moment, unsure how to continue, and the tiger woman snarled in fury. “What are you louts waiting for?! Get a bleeding practice weapon and pair up.” It was then that the recruits all simultaneously noticed the convenient rack of wooden weapons. Tinnok walked briskly with the rest of them and fetched a dagger, moving out into the field. Someone shoved her hard out of the way as she retreated from the rack, but she didn't even glance backwards to acknowledge the event. She turned to see who she would be fighting and noticed that same male arguing with someone. Whatever it was about it didn’t last long, and she saw him fetch his weapon and take long purposeful strides towards her. Time to begin.

[Razkar]

"She's mine."

"Go petch yourself, Oxil."

The squat Myrian male's featured darkened at Razkar's words and Rehkuna thought she might have to separate the two. The fang leader just rolled her eyes. Males. Thank the Goddess they weren't the one running her people.

Oxil's brown eyes flashed to the halfbreed, almost licking his lips with anticipation. Half the squad had been doing the same thing (mentally at least). None of them had yet fought Dhani, but of course all had been raised to hate them above all others. A slimy, scaly, vicious race of monsters that infested their jungles and were only saved from annihilation by an ancient accord between Myri and Caiyha. The Myrians chafed and chomped at the bit behind their blockade, knowing there could be no peace with monsters: just a pause for their enemies to rearm, consolidate and breed new numbers...

"She's got no right to be here." Oxil all but snarled, not caring if the girl heard. "Petching abomination. Should a' been killed at birth."

Razkar regarded her. She was pushed aside by a female and didn't even achnowledge the insult; just pursed her lips and waited her turn, picking out... a dagger? How fitting.

Enough debate.

"She's mine. You can have what's left."

Oxil started blathering but he did it to the empty air, Razkar already striding towards his target, not taking his eyes off her. Even when he got to the racks of weapons and swapped his gladius for one of wood, his glare pinned her and he relished the quailing in her eyes.

Some lost, ignored part of him tried to stir pity for this creature. Tried to remind him that she was a child of Myri as much as he, and was striving to prove herself worthy of the Goddess-Queen, just like he was.

Like I said: lost and ignored.

"Get in position! Opposite me!"

At his bark she obeyed, settling opposite him and raising her dagger. He looked her up and down, slowly, like he'd just smeared her off his shoe, and cracked his head left to right. Joints popped in his neck and shoulders, muscle rolling under his skin. He wore only his loincloth and shoes today, and blistering humidity of Summer already approaching before its time.

Razkar smiled at the girl as a wolf would a lamb. All around them males and females were paired off, soldiers against recruits, but the two of them had eyes only for each other.

"Don't worry, snake shit. You won't die today. I can promise you that."

He left the rest of that sentence unsaid, but he knew from her face she got it loud and clear.

We can only do that once. But beating you? We can do that as many times as we want...

Razkar swept back his right foot a little so he was almost sideways to her, gladius held in front of him, almost diagonal, elbow bent, ready to block, parry or strike as he needed to. Training was training... this would just be more fun.

"Attack!"

[Tinnok]

He was tall. I mean she could tell he was taller than that stumpy one he had been arguing with, but Myri’s name, he was almost as tall as she was. Almost. She couldn’t break away from that stare, like he was already grappling with her before the fight had begun. He held the wooden gladius in his grip so tight it could have simply been a club. And that stare. He was like an open book, she saw pain in his eyes, but it wasn’t his own, just the kind he wanted to inflict upon her for what she was, and what she represented. When he barked she snapped to the beat of his words, still her eyes couldn’t leave his. Well not until his gaze looked her over like she was a rotting corpse barely fit for the parts that made up the whole. Then she took a moment to size him up. He was large, and would be stronger physically, in nearly every way. Despite the underlying animosity she felt towards the male for blatantly choosing her, she couldn’t help but take an admiring fascination in his wide array of tattoos, and piercings. Her own ears were simply covered with silver rings, a gold one in her nose and a similar style of studs had been planted forcefully across the bridge of her nose. Scaled skin shone faintly, relatively bare of any markings save a bloodied dagger upon her left arm, a symbol of her first weapon as was tradition of the Tempered Steel. And the snake on the back of her neck? Well it was unlikely he’d be glimpsing that one anyway. Large eyes took him in for all he was and all he stood for. Her lips twitched a bit as his insult. Snake shit, good one. He took up his stance, but she didn’t move, not an inch. She stood like a sodding pole, dagger hanging loosely in one hand, unprepared and almost casual. She blinked for a moment, trying to alter her frame of mind. This was an opportunity for him, but also it was one for her. There was only one way out of this three year mess, and that was to beat them, not necessarily with skill or brawn, but in mind. Just as he would revel in beating and bruising her, so too could she channel this into what she had always wanted: revenge. Her eyes were closed when he said to attack, but even before the two syllables had reached their final note those piss yellow eyes had snapped open, pupils widening ever so slightly and catching his dark gaze. If there was fear, anxiety, worry, or hate in those eyes before, now they were empty. Her lips were straight and focused, those eyes cold and devoid of what little life they contained upon entering the yard. There would be no acknowledgement of him save for his own reflection in black slits. Her body snapped together like pieces of wood to make a doll. Her nonexistent fighting stance suddenly became something clearly practiced. The ball of one foot pushed off the ground, sending her rotating in a flourish. Her dagger had been in her right hand, held barely by thumb and fore finger. As she twirled she dropped the blade into her left hand, fingers curling comfortably around the hilt. She sent her left arm in a stab towards his gut, right arm pretending to hold the dagger still, but stopping inches before the prepared Gladius It was clever, but sloppy, her foot slipped a bit in the ground, and even if the hit had gone through it probably would have just left a shallow gash along the pelvis instead of hitting a sweet spot. She saw his eyes flicker in surprise, but he was quick to block her move. She refused to show her frustration, only readied her body in preparation of retaliation.

[Razkar]

"Shyke."

Razkar could not stop the word breathed out in less than a whisper when he saw those yellow eyes snap open again with an almost audible click. Then there was no fear, no awkwardness. Just cold, clinical intent. She was here, wasn't going anywhere and, one way or another, she was getting a kicking.

So best to make a good show of it.

She turned on her heels with a smooth, steady twist and he prepared himself, waiting for her right to-

-then he left jutted towards his stomach and Razkar mentally kicked himself.

"Overconfidence!" A voice crowed out, and he knew it was Rehkuna, prowling the edge of the training yard and roaring out advice, criticism, insults and curses. "One of the worst evils for a warrior, new meat! You look at something smaller, scared, even weak, and that's all you see? Then you're dead before you even raise your sword! Not every enemy is worthy of your respect... but they are all worth your caution and consideration!"

Wood clacked onto wood and Razkar slid to his left, gladius swinging down in a horizontal arc to knock the dagger to one side. But she came close, very close, and he knew there would be no prizes for guessing who Rehkuna was talking to.

"You use deception. Good."

The halfbreed's eyes opened in something like surprise at the compliment, and they had not stopped moving before Razkar slid forwards towards her, gladius jerking up and to the right, wooden blade held vertical to knock her arm upwards and away-

-then bring it back slashing down diagonally in front of her, aiming a stinging swipe onto her right thigh.

Every victory has a price.

[Tinnok]

She would have smiled at the words shouted across the field, and how they reflected the male Myrian's reaction...no she had to stop calling him that. He had a name, but she didn't want to ask for it, to extend that kind of courtesy to her enemy, even if he was also her ally. She looked at him, scarred and covered with ink and other things. He was no different from any other male she had seen, but he was big...no Tskanna wouldn't do, his predatory gaze was too intense for the gentle giants. That she-bitch was a tiger, so that was out, and she would forever be a serpent, so despite the fact that something told her her was more clever than he appeared, that wouldn't do either.

Her musings were interrupted by his...eyes widened in surprise, breaking the iron facade she enjoyed maintaining. Kind words? The last thing she was expecting, but her gaze shifted to their normal size again, more than not it was a ploy, and if it was said in honesty it changed nothing, just made her not a complete half wit...

Proven wrong in the midst of another thought he knocked her empty arm up and away and viciously sliced her inner thigh. She hissed in pain, fitting, no? Her body leapt back, but it was an instant too late to miss the brunt of the damage. He was large, but quick. It was on the tip of her mind, but she simply couldn't get there. Petch it, there were other things to worry about. She repeated her maneuver, an agile twirl, dagger clutched in her left hand. He would be expecting her previous move, but wary to whatever tricks she might have. She didn't want to put all her cards on the table, but she had to maintain an offensive or he would surely brutalize her. This time when she lunged forward she slashed at his stomach with the knife, then dropped down in a slide tackle, right foot aimed for his leg in hopes to knock him off balance.

He merely side stepped her entire attack and Tin found herself splayed awkwardly on the ground, long legs split all the way. The tiger approached, eyes scrutinizing her. "Well Skurak, what the petch are you lying on the ground for? You're dead thrice over and don't even look pretty while doing it." She glanced at Razkar, who Tin noticed had a bit of a smirk at the half-breed's idiocy. "Proud of yourself? The thing just threw itself on the ground, get back in position."

Tin rose from the ground, pushing up and folding her legs underneath before rotating to face the...nope, still couldn't place what he was. If she felt anything for being referred to as a thing, it did not show. One foot stepped back and she held her dagger in her right hand, reverse grip. Her voice dripped out between her lips, apathetic. "Your move."

[Razkar]

She was spirited, Razkar would give her that... but nothing else. Whatever it may have sounded like to the halfbreed, Rehkuna's words were a rebuke to him. Abomination though she was, she was meant to be trained, not just serve as a punch bag.

Razkar resolved to find a way to do both.

He cocked a wry eyebrow at her terse reply and circled her slowly, gladius held up and ready.

"Don't over-extend yourself, scum." He said, relishing the last word. "Especially with so short a weapon. With a dagger, you get in close and strike, or you're dead. Anything else, stay away from your enemy or get another weapon. And learn to move-"

He swung diagonally at her, aiming for her shoulder, but slower than before. Not noticeably, but enough to... ah, there we go. She twisted her upper body to her right and the wooden bade sailed by her-

-but not the horizontal slash that smacked into her arm.

"Feet! Move your feet!" Razkar barked, now back on the offensive, thrusting at her stomach and grudginly impressed when she parried it with her dagger. "You avoided the blow, good, but capitalize on it! Don't just wait!"

Razkar darted in closer and she stabbed at his kidney from the side. He half-jumped, half-hopped backwards, sucking his gut in, dagger slicing through nothing but air-

-and aimed a horizontal crack at her head before she finished the strike.

"Like so."

[Tinnok]

She listened when he spoke. A soldier just like she, hate burning in his eyes, yet still teaching her. Of course he had to. She’d hate to think what would come of her if she encountered him in some secluded part of Taloba, no one to put him in line, his own conclusions to be drawn about the half-breed. It had happened to her before, more than once, and she had her own scars marring supple flesh to prove it.

So she listened. He came at her, smacking her arm. She winced, but responded. Of course he was right. He had the longer blade, the range, and the strength. These were disadvantages, but it didn’t mean her fighting style didn’t have its own strengths. Feet, move your feet!. A thought occurred to Tinnok then, she was always wary of how and where she put her feet out of combat, yet she rarely paid them any mind during. She couldn’t keep a smirk from spreading across her features at her own stupidity. As she lunged at him she saw the blow coming, and leapt to the side. It was just like sneaking past her sleeping clan mates or padding softly through the forest on some animal’s trail.

She waited for him to attack again, sweeping in, watching his feet carefully. He made a powerful slash across her midsection, too powerful to simply parry with a dagger. She waited an instant, watching those legs, blade coming, hurling towards her. now. She felt a smack on her head as she pitched forward, miscalculating the right time to half roll, half fall in between his legs. Lucky he was tall, that probably wouldn’t work on shorter males. Shooting to her feet, a bit dizzy from the sudden movement, she brought the blade of her dagger to his throat, breathing heavy and labored from the event. Good thing she had warmed up. Then she had it. “Eagle.” It was barely a whisper, but then again his ears were right there.

Whatever his reaction to the random whispered word. She did, however, feel the powerful punch to her gut that he sent her way, knocking the air clean from her lungs. Should have moved out of the way...

[Razkar]

OOCBe careful about roleplaying within your Skill Level. That move would have been difficult for an accomplished acrobat, let alone a novice.

Over-extending, Razkar? What about over-confidence?!

That was the thought running through Razkar's mind as the smaller, lither female ducked under his legs (Goddess, and he'd never live that one down) and came up behind him, just as he turned-

-and found a wooden blade at his throat. Her eyes were just behind it, and now he could see the yellow slits up close, strange black flecks in them, just like a real snake. When she opened her mouth a crack, he really did expect a tongue to flick out, but instead...

“Eagle.”

He blinked, mind shutting down for a moment-

-and she used the chance to jump backwards, out of his range, as artfully as a bird. Now Razkar's eyes were wide with something else, skin pulled tight around his face and burning coals where his pupils used to be. He did not know if his rage was more directed against himself as it was her. A green, fresh, inexperienced recruit, and what had he done?

Allowed her to embarrass him! Humiliate him!

No longer.

He came in with an animal bark that reverberated around the training yard walls, bounced off stone and eclipsed crashing wood for a brief second. He struck left, then right, keeping her moving back, merciless, relentless, gladius striking for her legs, her shins, the side of her kneecaps, her elbows, her head, not giving her a chance to retaliate or regain the initiative-

-until she backed into the wall and Razkar swung a horizontal blow against her dagger, knocking her arm away from her-

-and stepped quickly towards her when the swing of the blow turned his body so his right side was facing her, elbow bending, bursting him forwards-

-slamming his right elbow into her face.

He stood there panting as she bled and held her face. Something should have come to him. Some... warning, or lesson, or threat or perhaps even a weak and cliched quip he had read from the bards. But nothing did. His anger strangled the words in his throat, and... something else. Some...

Shame?

Yes. Shame. For he had lost control, and in battle that could kill him. But when those yellow eyes flickered up to his in shock and pain, that voice became lost, too.

"Back in position..."

He turned and walked away.