Flashback A Snipet of the Past

[Va'aj'rah]

This had been happening ever since Va'aj'rah was able to walk. It was a consistent occurrence; at least daily, and something that Va'aj'rah would come to respect once he was able to speak.

He was challenged.

Va'aj'rah's father was a single father now, and he was a hard man. A mercenary by trade, he was naturally tough on his son, to teach him the ways of survival and combat. After all, it was the only thing he knew.

Va'aj'rah recalls that his father would allow him two cups of water a day, and the sparest of clothing (though it was colorful; they were eypherian after all). But that wasn't just because his father was harsh; it was also because they were poor. His fathers skills were all in mercenary work, and although the jobs he occasionally picked up weren't bad paying, the money received was spread thin until the next job.

Despite that fact, when Va'aj'rah was eight, his father replaced to old, iron knife he had given him with something else. His father has taken a trip to the market to renew supplies, and when he came back he brought with him a curved steel dagger. It was fairly simple; wooden handle with leather straps, with two bolts at the top and the bottom that held the blade in place. The blade itself seemed old and more than a little worn, with some Knicks and scratches; and obviously not the best weapon smith. Either way, to Va'aj'rah it was the greatest gift.

"You're going to learn how to use this," his father told him, in his loving, yet serious and harsh voice. "And you're going to learn to use it in each hand, and you're going to know the very length of its curve." The meant that he wanted Va'aj'rah to know this dagger as well as Va'aj'rah knew his own body.

[Va'aj'rah]

And so the training ensued. With a cup of water, held in a dust rimmed, wooden cup from the desert's golden sands, Va'aj'rah was set to work outside in the white sand blindness with that fiery sphere set above him. Carving medium length poles, shaping them deftly into pointed wooden stakes to be sold for 3 copper Mizas each at the Ahnatep market place.

Va'aj'rah was to be paid 1 copper miza for every two stakes that sold, and he was to alternate stake carving between each if his hands. The tilos in regards to this exercise was to strengthen the grip in his hands as applied to holding the dagger. Surely, the strength he used in his muscles to smoothly shear long strips of wood off the stake would help him to understand how to handle the weapon. Using it in normal circumstance would convince his young mind that the thing was an extension of his body, and after that, every similar thing he might acquire.

Carve, carve, carve... Va'aj'rah worked on the stakes all day. Holding the blade at a specific angle and sliding it down the length of the piece, pressing hard towards the end to eliminate a larger amount in order to form the point. The process was fairly simple however: first he was to shave off the outer layer of bark, making sure he didn't sleep an slice into his own hands. And then he just had to whittle the point.

But as it were, Va'aj'rah had cut himself on multiple occasions. Before his father had left for the day, he had granted Va'aj'rah a few things: a sharpening stone to keep the blade in shape, and a roll of cloth to patch up wounds.

By the time his father had returned, it was dark and he had finished two cups of water, acquired three cuts, and crafted 52 stakes. His muscles were sore, as well. At a copper miza for every two, Va'aj'rah would have made 26 copper Mizas once these all sold. He could hardly wait.

One thing; when Va'aj'rah's father returned, he returned to see his son gutting a lizard he had managed to catch and kill. His father shook his head at the poor gutting job he was doing...

"That's not good," his father told him, and then knelt down and took the dagger. He opened up the hole Va'aj'rah had made in the lizard and he slit the guts out near the throat. Putting those to the side atop a flat rock, he made slits around the lizards arms so he could tear them off easier. After that, he removed the head and tail.

"I want you to catch three more." His father told him. Va'aj'rah nodded. His father reached into a bag slung around his hip and threw Va'aj'rah some flint stones. "What you catch is your dinner. Catch nothing and you don't eat. Understand?"

Va'aj'rah had been taught not to talk back to his father. So he nodded.

"Good. Save the guts, we dry them to catch fish with." His father pointed at the stakes. "How many?"

"Fifty," Va'aj'rah replied.

"Tomorrow, you make sixty." His father ordered, and then entered the house.

Va'aj'rah was proud. His father had said nothing critical of him, which meant that he was proud of his son. With slightly more vigor, Va'aj'rah collected his things and went in search of the lizards.

[Va'aj'rah]

He spotted a lizard crawling along the rough rocks of the city wall. This one was too easy. Va'aj'rah leapt from his hiding spot and grabbed the lizard by the tail, stabbing it in the neck, nearly severing the head from its scaly body. The din light of the setting son colored the blood spot a pinkish color.

With a strip of cord, Va'aj'rah tied up the dead lizard and hung it around his neck; the fashion of a very macabre necklace.

The second lizard proved more difficult; ending it's daily sun bathing on a large rock. Va'aj'rah tried the same approach as with the last lizard. He leapt out and attempted to grab the lizard and pierce it in the head; however his blade only met stone, as before him the lizard took off through the sand.

But he wasn't about to give up. "AHHHHHH!!" With a battle cry, Va'aj'rah hurdled his body over the stone and pursued the lizard, arms blazing.

Under fences, through thick tufts of parse grass and cactus, around rocks... Needlessly to say, Va'aj'rah chased it down and added it to his necklace storage.

The next one proved less difficult as well. Va'aj'rah had picked up a stone lest he find one far away and need to neutralize it by throwing the projectile. But as Va'aj'rah rounded the corner of an abandoned building, he was met face to face with another lizard. They watched each other for a while. Then with out moving his eyes, Va'aj'rah raised the hand that gripped the rock, and...

SPLAT

SIZZLE

Va'aj'rah had gutted the lizards just as his father had shown him, saving the guts on a separate rock off to the side. He then started his cooking fire; a very small one as he couldn't make too big of a fire though he had been making them since he was six -- using the shavings from the stakes. The lizard was delicious.

His father came out as the moon rose. By then, Va'aj'rah's fire was dying.

"Here, papa?" Va'aj'rah offered his father back his flint stones.

"You keep them," his father said. "They are yours now; keep them on you at all times. Later this week you will make a bag to store them. But now, it is time to dedicate ourselves to wysar."

Va'aj'rah nodded. Quietly, they both took a smoldering stick from the fire, and threaded into the night.