Form and Function

by **Nathaniel Deveraux** on October 29th, 2013, 11:42 pm

Day 37, Season Fall, 513 AV

It wasn't like it was in Syliras.

Back then, he could just go to the Pits with some log he grabbed from who-knows-where, and just start shooting arrows at it. Or, he could start swinging his kukri around and so long as he didn't hit anybody or cut someone up, he'd be free to practice his forms. And even when the Pits were far too crowded for Nate's liking, there was always the Bronze Wood, which was as quiet as it was inviting, filled with game that fed his stomach, and trees that were always willing to serve as willing targets for his practice. But out here, on the open plain, trees were a rare sight, few and far in between.

Nate did not know the city well enough to realize he probably could have tried training in the War Storm Pavilion, though if he had done so he would have likely gotten several strange looks from the Diamond clan members inside. Besides, Nate doubted anyone in Endrykas had ever heard of or used a kukri before; the curved knife was more typical of the mountain-people that his father claimed his family originally hailed from, a long time ago. His father claimed that Lea and Kat's red hair was proof of it, though Nate didn't see how hair color proved anything.

In any case, Nate carefully removed the kukri from its holster, hefting the weight of the weapon in his hand. His father never had a chance to truly train him in its use. He only showed him the basics, taught him how to hold the weapon and some basic stances to take. Beyond that... Nate was sure there would have been other lessons. Lessons on strikes, lessons on blocks, lessons on all sorts of things. Lessons that would never happen now.

Nate took a careful stance in the grass, holding the blade in his right hand. He bent his knees, splaying them in a diagonal line, pointing his right toe at the enemy while cocking his left hand back in a defensive manner. The right arm was outstretched, the blade of the kukri facing outward at whatever foe he'd be facing. The entire stance resembled a boxer's ready stance, with an open-palmed left-hand and a weapon in the right.

Taking a breath, Nate swung forward; the heavy, weighted end of the blade easily slicing through the air. This was a series of movements that his father had taught him: the basic slashes and thrusts that made up the kukri form. If he had more time, Nate was sure he'd have learned more advanced forms, or perhaps combination attacks involving punches from the left hand, or kicks. But as it was, the form was basic, and the movements elementary; just slashes down the eight angles of attack. Up, down, left, right, and the diagonal slashes from above and below. And of course, the forward thrust.

Each slash and thrust was followed by a short exhalation of breath. The truth was, Nate rarely had an opportunity to truly train in the kukri; as a hunter, it was usually best practice to not get so close to a dangerous animal that a melee weapon like the kukri would be practical. Still, just because he tried to avoid it didn't mean he would succeed. And if his experiences with the lion that he and Oryani had encountered told him anything, it was that he needed a lot more practice with his weapon of choice if he was to ever succeed in using it in anything resembling a real situation.

Nate thrust again, enjoying the weight of the blade in his hands. The warmth of the handle. For all its apparent uselessness, the training did help him clear his mind. And perhaps, in time, he'd be able to come up with a few tricks of his own. Nate swung the blade neatly to the left, this time. He could only hope.

by **Nathaniel Deveraux** on November 3rd, 2013, 2:25 pm

Getting the form right was only the first step. And truthfully, the least difficult one. It was probably why his father taught it to him first, since it was the easiest part of the combat style to pick up. But Nate knew there were nuances to the style, things that take seasons or even years to master. The kukri was a small but deadly weapon, and it left the entire rest of his body free to contribute to the fight. He briefly wondered if he shouldn't also learn a larger weapon, such as a hand axe, to complement the smaller kukri. But he shook his head to clear it. No, he needed to get better with his weapon of choice first, before he started thinking about studying other weapons.

Bringing his left arm up parallel to his chest, and diagonally across it, Nate crossed his right arm above his left, making an "X" shape with his forearms, with the blade of the kukri pointing out and toward an imaginary foe. The fact was, for Nate, the foe was likely to be a tiger, or some other form of large predator, not a person. So he needed techniques that were fast, efficient, and brutally effective. Because unlike people, wild animals didn't give you a second chance if you missed.

This particular stance was a defensive one, the crossed forearms serving as a shield against frontal attacks. Surging forward, Nate brought the kukri's blade singing downward at an angle, striking at the imaginary foe from above before sending his left fist forward to grab the opponent and ram the kukri into its gut. In theory, such a combination would work, but in reality Nate highly suspected the foe wouldn't just let him grab them like that.

Nate's footwork also needed some practice. Thus far he'd been training with both feet firmly planted in the ground, but he knew that in real combat he'd need to stay mobile. So he started to shift his legs, getting used to the ground beneath him. His father had warned him that one should never practice on anything but even ground, but Nate knew that when hunting, you can't always have even ground. There were rocks, and soft patches, and steep hillsides; nothing anyone can control but if you find yourself facing a predator you still have to figure it out anyway.

The somewhat gravelly earth beneath him was not the steadiest, but Nate tried to shift on it anyway, as he brought his forearms back up in the defensive stance. He could feel his feet slipping a little, and he tried to compensate by bending his knees a bit more to give himself additional stability. The stance was certainly more stable with bent knees he discovered, but it was harder to stay mobile since bending the knees limited the range of movement his legs could achieve.

After a few tries, Nate realized the only real motion this particular stance could achieve after the initial strike was a forward lunge; while the crossed arms was good for defense it left much to be desired in terms of offensive capability. The fact was, with the right arm brought up so high, it meant that Nate's striking surface was cut in half; any attack from the left would require a very awkward readjustment of his stance before he could bring the kukri to bear. And while his arms would absorb the brunt of the attack, Nate suspected it was better to simply avoid the attack to begin with.

by **Nathaniel Deveraux** on November 3rd, 2013, 7:51 pm

Striking was only one aspect of the kukri's form, as Nate recalled his father explaining. The other was avoidance. The blade was not intended to block an attack, so the kukri user was expected to avoid any incoming strikes, either by simply not being there when the strike came, or counterattacking with the kukri to blunt the attack and force it back. Like any small weapon, the kukri was best used with rapid, dangerous slashes.

Nate swung the kukri through the air with a series of quick cuts, the heavy-ended knife slicing easily and readily. Nate realized that the blade was constructed the way it was for a reason; most of the weight was focused at the end of the kukri, making it much heavier there than at the grip. Although when he'd initially swung it, the knife had almost sprang from his hand, Nate realized that the way the blade was weighted meant that it assisted him in his chopping motion, the weight aiding in the follow-through and almost dragging the edge through the air.

Nate took several breaths, trying to clear the air after his slashes. It was embarrassing, really, to be so out-of-breath. A hunter couldn't afford to be breathless when a hungry beast was about to eat him, after all, and here he was panting after only a few strikes. Taking a gulping mouthful of air, Nate straightened his back and stood up straight, now returning to the original position of legs on a diagonal, kukri pointed outward. this pseudo-boxer's stance with open palm was certainly much more mobile, Nate discovered, but it had a glaring weakness in that it left him open to attack, especially his exposed left side.

Once again Nate considered the possibility of putting something in his left hand. Even something as simple as an armored glove, or a weapon of some description. A hatchet or tomahawk would be best, as those were designed to be hunter's weapons as well as very usable tools in the field. But where could he obtain such a weapon? And would the Drykas even sell to a captive? It was a moot point anyway, he wasn't exactly wealthy to begin with.

Taking another step forward with his left leg, Nate brought the kukri across the horizontal, then fell into a crouch and sprang forward with his bent right leg while sending the knife forward. The bent tip of the kukri meant that he did not have to bend his wrist while stabbing, so the crouch-thrust was quite smooth and effective. However, Nate's footing wobbled a bit and he had to catch himself before he fell over. The loose ground beneath his feet truly was not suited for this sort of practice, but Nate really did not wish to be practicing where he could be interrupted. A part of him told him he simply did not wish to interact with the Drykas, which he really could not deny.

Standing back up, Nate examined the ground for a more stable location to practice. The ground that was currently beneath him was far too treacherous for this kind of work, but after looking around for a few ticks he decided that the general area was basically like this, and there was not a great deal he could do about it. Shrugging his shoulders, Nate simply walked back to his original starting location and began again, thrusting his blade forward in another quick jab.

by **Nathaniel Deveraux** on November 9th, 2013, 9:05 pm

Nate's continued practice did not seem to really yield very many successes. The truth of the matter was, ultimately he was stuck doing the same motions over and over in the hopes that they would somehow improve him. But he had no wooden practice kukri, and without one he could not ask anyone to spar with him. And even if he did, he was not really all that keen to spar with a Drykas; he was quite sure that spar would turn into something a lot more... violent. He wasn't certain he would be able to restrain himself and might well turn the spar into a duel, with potentially bad results. Even if he won that "spar" he was quite sure the punishment meted out to him and worse, to Lea and Kat, would be severe.

And the problem, as Nate realized with another upward swing followed by a quick forward thrust, was that ultimately the kukri's greatest strength was also is primary weakness. It was an efficient weapon, no doubt, but its lack of range made it worthless against any beast he'd actually want to defeat. Truly, he'd want something with significantly more range because if any large predator got close enough to Nate for a kukri to be at all effective, he was likely already a meal for that predator.

And it was a sobering thought, to know that in the end there was little to nothing he could do to change that situation. The frustration boiled in Nate's chest as his movements got choppier and choppier, swinging almost wildly in an attempt to murder some imaginary foe. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how long he tried it, he just never got anywhere! It wasn't fair, and the fact that he could hear his father's voice saying that life wasn't fair did not help in the least.

Stuck. It was never a situation Nate liked to be in. He hated losing his choices because it meant that he was relegated to just sitting around, hoping for something to happen and that never worked out for him. It hadn't in Syliras and it sure as petch didn't work out when Lea and Kat were taken and he was stuck here swinging a weapon he knew nothing about at empty air. What the petch was he doing?!

The blade was almost a blur now as Nate just started waving it about with abandon, cuts and stabs and slashes whistled through the air as he envisioned one of the Drykas in front of him. Grinning, leering at Lea and Kat, likely imagining what he was going to do to them, and Nate's lips formed a thin line as he stabbed, and slashed, and cut at that image, over and over and over and yet it never grew any dimmer. It just got larger and larger until it threatened to overwhelm him and he knew it was fake but he stumbled backward.

A stone caught in Nathan's heel and as he stumbled back it caused him to lose his balance. Despite his flailing arms, Nate was not able to arrest his fall and he tumbled to the ground, his buttocks striking the hard earth painfully as he landed on it, arms going wild. But it wasn't just that; he'd forgotten one of the fundamental principles of the kukri: always keep the sharp end away from your own body.

The razor-sharp blade had sliced down during his Fall, dragging a nasty cut down his right thigh. It wasn't deep, but it was bad enough to bleed profusely and Nate cursed. Stupid. That was incredibly stupid. Nate swore as he reached for his backpack.

by **Nathaniel Deveraux** on November 9th, 2013, 9:20 pm

Fortunately, Nate always carried alcohol with him. It was a force of habit from when he was in Syliras: you didn't leave home without it because it was by far one of the most effective anti-infection agents available, and simultaneously accomplished the task of sanitation and sterilization all in one convenient package. He would carry more of the stuff but it was generally accepted that carrying too much weight was just as bad if not worse than carrying too little: a good hunter should only carry enough to get him through the wilderness and not so much as to burden themselves.

Nate rummaged through his backpack until he found his secondary water skin, taking care to make sure it was the right one this time before removing it. The sharp scent of alcohol wafted up to Nate's nostrils as he removed the stopper, which came off the waterskin with a hollow-sounding pop. He might have to restock on his alcohol, but Nate was not really all that interested in dealing with the Drykas, especially not from a position of weakness like this.

Taking care not to simply inundate his bleeding wound, Nate poured some of the alcohol onto it, hissing with a sharp intake of breath as the sting of the liquid permeated the wound. It was never a pleasant thing, operating on oneself, and it was generally discouraged unless one were alone in the wilderness and had no other options other than to do so in order to save one's own life. Nate was not; he was in Endrykas and theoretically could obtain medical attention for this, but he was determined to try to fix it on his own. He didn't want anything to do with the tattooed vagiks.

But the injury was more severe than Nate thought, as he looked at it closer. It still wasn't deep, but it would require at least a bandaging and possibly further sterilization to ensure that no infectants got in. Nate growled and glared at nothing in particular as he wiped the blade of his kukri on the nearby grass before returning it to his belt. His legs were unsteady beneath him, and the fresh injury forced him to walk a bit slower than usual, but Nate managed, hobbling over to his backpack to put everything away.

The Opal Clan tents shouldn't be too far off, and Nate knew he could ask directions but he wanted to interact as little as he possibly could. He'd go in, see if they'd help him, and if they did, get that help, and then get the petch out. No reason to stick around, no reason to talk to anyone. Nate sighed, the anger inside still roiling but mixing with his own instincts as a medic.

The Opal Clan were medics like him. Was it fair to take out his anger on fellow medical professionals? Regardless of location they all shared the same creed. Nate groaned. Maybe the blood loss was affecting his brain. Regardless, he needed to get help, and they were the ones to that could help him. With these strange thoughts in his head, Nate slowly, painfully worked his way to the Opal Clan tents, and to the medical attention he knew he needed.

~Fin~

by **Taylani** on November 12th, 2013, 4:29 am

Nathaniel Deveraux

Skills :

Lores :

Notes :

Completed Form and Function