75th Day of Spring, 511AV
The Training Yards
14th Bell
The Training Yards
14th Bell
A familiar beat rang out from the Training Yards, echoing off the stone in an to an irregular staccato rhythm. Yells and sharp cries punctuated it; lulls and flurries of sound were an audible chronicle of the saga enacted. For centuries the Yards had played host to such songs. Now Razkar and his fang were donating their small contribution.
"G... Goddess..."
Mavix hawked and spat a scarlet glob into the sand, the thick spittle mixing with the rich red dirt immediately. The young male pushed himself upright and tossed his club from hand to hand, wincing as his bruised wrist bit as his nerves... then dulled.
"Waiting for something?!"
A grimace of pain twisted into a hard scowl as he turned back to Razkar, still dueling with Alemi. The lithe female and her wooden scimitar had avoided more damage than he, but now she was the sole focus of the veteran warrior's attention and his pair of wooden gladii. He drove her back with a horizontal swing from his right, following it with a stab from his left, her own weapon swinging down to knock it away-
-but his right was already hacking diagonally towards her, forcing her to flick her curved blade upward to stop it-
-and she darted forward, aiming to barrel her shoulder into his chest and knock him off guard-
"Good!"
-only for the male to slide away to his right, turning as he went-
-right gladius striking out hard, landing a stinging blow on her side just above her kidney.
"Bastard!"
But as one tottered away, clutching her side and gritting her teeth, her partner charged into the fray, three-foot-long growling through the humid air towards Razkar, forcing him back.
Don't bother trying to parry. The sheer force of it hitting your blade will ruin your balance. Keep him swinging, keep him guessing... but not for too long.
His thoughts were quick, urgent, but in his heart the clansmen of the Shorn Skulls was overjoyed. For a whole season Erama had been mercilessly drilling him in the Two-Handed dance. Cruel had been her lessons, but fruitful. Now he could hold his own with her, though her stamina eventually carried the day for her (and had it end with lumps and bruises for him, not to mention an eye swollen like a rotten melon the week before). But that day, she was on patrol, and Razkar had felt restless... but whom could challenge him if not her? All others were skilled, but in singular weapons... unless...
All other by themselves, perhaps.
"Careful with your swings!" He barked as he ducked under another whooshing haymaker from the male, spying Alemi recovering herself beyond him. "They'll throw you off, and-"
He punctuated the point by smacking his left into the male's right knee, making him yelp and stagger as he raised his club again-
-right gladius hacking upward vertically, catching Mavix under the armpit, loosening his grip-
-but Mavix hadn't just graduated training; he'd survived patrols and skirmishes in the jungle and was not so quick to lose an advantage, smacking his elbow down to his side and capturing Razkar's blade-
-grinning like a tiger as he locked eyes with-
Don't dwell on it, boy.
-Razkar's forehead as it flew towards him, smashing into his nose and blowing apart his clear vision into a plethora of stinging sparks and stars, sending him reeling back, hands coming up of their own accord to his ruined face-
-right before Razkar lunged and stabbed him under the breastbone with the blunt edge of his gladius... which wasn't saying much. Mavix's eyes popped open in agony as every mouthful of air in his lungs were blasted from his lips, pain striking his legs and sending him back again-
-until Alemi stopped his progress, arms at his shoulders.
"Don't smile." Razkar barked at his comrades/students, swinging his blades around in his hands, pacing back and forth as they breathed the pain from their bodies. "Don't enjoy the fucking moment, like this is some saga. Don't waste time; don't squander any opening you get. Kill your enemy fast and surely, that is all that matters. Trust me... there are always more."
Silence, broken by panting and the soft hiss of sandaled feet on red sand. His younger fang-mates absorbed his lesson... but he could see the feral anger in their eyes; the lust for revenge against the pain he'd wreaked upon them.
"Come to the Yards, he said," Mavix groaned, snapping his nose back into place with a muttered, blasphemous oath, "Always good to train, he said!"
"Well, it is." Alemi said with a fatalistic shrug, rolling her wounded shoulder and flourishing her scimitar as her voice lowered. "For him. You break left. I'll take his right."
"Why like that?"
"Because his right's stronger and you're more battered than me."
Mavix opened his mouth to argue, and that simple, painful gesture told him to shut it again. Instead he just grunted, gripping his club in two hands and smugly deciding to follow his older comrade's advice.
Now more big, wild swings. He can exploit those. Only swing when you know you can hit.
Razkar did the same: he didn't smile. Not with his lips, anyway. But his black eyes shone like twin eclipses in his sunken eyes, and he swung both gladii in his hands, wooden weapons whistling through the air in unision-
-ending with his left held forward, on guard and perpendicular-
-his right cocked back and high to counter-attack.
"Again. Both of you. Your enemy has two weapons, and you only one? The solution is simple: pick up another weapon, or grab a friend to help."
As one his partners darted to his sides, splitting wide, impossible for him to follow in the same gaze. Razkar felt his heart start to pound as the instruments began their song again.