.Fall 36, 306 AV
As the old, wise saying often went: "Growing up is hard to do." And in the case of the young Akalak known as Dor'gen, such words had never been more true. For him, daily life was a constant struggle...and the sad truth of it all was that his struggle was due to circumstances that were entirely beyond his control. Having grown up in the deepest depths of Falyndar's forests, all that Dor'gen knew revolved around Taloba and its people: the Myrians. He was the sole child of Kisala, a daughter of the Tempered Steel; and by most standards that would be enough to warrant him a normal life and upbringing. However, the issue of who, or rather what, he and his sire were caused him no end of grief. Put simply, the sons and daughters of Myri did not take kindly to those who were different amongst their midst.
And being a tall, purple-skinned, elongated-eared humanoid was the definition of "different."
As such, the young Akalak's days were filled to the brim with the torments of his fellow children. While Dor'gen would do all in his power to earn their acceptance, all he received in the end was thrown rocks and jeers. However, he dare not break down and show weakness...he dare not shed a single tear...for that would only add heaps of fuel to the raging inferno of their ridicule. No, instead, the youngling would simply endure the hell handed down to him by child and adult alike; only to find respite at the conclusion of each and every day. When the final meal was concluded and the longhouse began to quiet, Dor'gen's mother would lead her beloved child out to their hammock. There, she would cradle her precious son in her arms and sing to him the words that would lull him off to sleep.
I'll love you forever.
I'll love you for always.
As long as I'm living -
My baby you'll be.
No matter the distance.
No matter the worries.
As long as I'm living -
My baby you'll be.
No matter the pain.
No matter the sorrow.
As long as I'm living -
My baby you'll be.
Each day, these tender words sent the young Akalak off into the waiting embrace of slumber...and every morning, Dor'gen would awaken with a kiss upon his brow. His dear mother would greet him with her loving smile and start his day with affection: giving him the strength to bear the torment that undoubtedly awaited him. This day, in particular, began as any other. Shortly after being awakened by his mother, the young Akalak was taken by the hand and led off to receive his morning meal. Although he received no shortage of glares and dismissive huffs along the way, Dor'gen was promptly fed the usual assortment of fruit and water...Before his mother decided to show him something new. For months now, she had been noting the growth of her child; and marked today as the beginning of his education.
Sure, he received basic instruction from those appointed to the task of cultivating soldiers for Myri's Army; but Kisala had a specialty. She, as many respected her for, was a bladeswoman of a high caliber...and it was time that her son followed in her footsteps. When he had concluded his meal, she took him by the hand and led him down to the training field. There, she set him before one of the unoccupied training dummies and faced her boy with a stern look plastered upon her face. "Alright Dor'gen, today you'll learn one of the most important lessons of your life. What I am about to show you is the foundation of every sword form that I know, and can be build upon in countless ways. I cannot tell you how many times this lesson has saved my life; and I'm sure that it will one day save yours." she began.
At first, apprehension was affixed to the young Akalak's face...but it was quickly replaced by utter excitement! It was not everyday that Dor'gen received a lesson from his mother, after all. "Yes, mama." he said, nodding with eagerness. Kisala couldn't help but allow a small smile to form on her lips as she looked upon her boy; but quickly got serious once again. Stepping past, she reached her hand into one of the barrels of training weapons strewn about. There, she fished around until her fingers seized a single weapon. 'Twas a bastard sword, composed completely of wood. Turning, she promptly deposited the weapon into her boy's hands and gave him a nod. Now, typically-speaking, such weapons were too large for children to even dream of wielding.
However, given that Dor'gen was an Akalak, he could with slight difficulty. It took two hands to hold up, and was noticeably heavy within his grasp, but he could do it!
"Alright Dor'gen, this is the first part of your lesson." began Kisala, indicating the head of the dummy. "Each enemy you encounter will be made up of 'Vital Spots'. These locations will do the most damage if struck; and the form that I'll teach you will emphasize hitting as many of these spots as quickly as possible. First off is the head..." she said, gently tapping the dummy's head with her finger. "...the torso...the left arm...the right arm...the left leg...and the right leg. Each of these is numbered one through five, with one being head, two being torso, etc." With each statement, she jabbed her finger into the respective zone on the dummy. Dor'gen followed along diligently, nodding his head dutifully with each indication. "Okay then, let's see if you really understand then son." she said, addressing him with a mother's skepticism. "Give me a 1-2-3 strike."
"Yes mama!" he said, eager to make her proud.
Stepping forth, the young Akalak gripped his weapon tightly in both of his hands before raising it over his head. Coming down, he smacked the dummy as hard as he could upon its head. With a solid thumb, the burlap form recoiled against the wood of the weapon, yet Dor'gen soldiered forward. Grunting with determination, Dor'gen then reared back and slashed at the dummy's mid-section...however the weight of the sword caused the momentum of his swing to spin him about. It took all of the boy's effort to keep a hold of his weapon! Quickly turning around, he concluded his "combo" with a simple bash of the dummy's left arm. Although it lacked finesse, he hit all three of the indicated zones; much to the approval of his mother. Kisala clapped her hands together once and smiled...before utter seriousness claimed her expression again.
"Good job. Now let's work on your stance. You damn near lost your sword on that one."
Word Count1,137
.
.
As the old, wise saying often went: "Growing up is hard to do." And in the case of the young Akalak known as Dor'gen, such words had never been more true. For him, daily life was a constant struggle...and the sad truth of it all was that his struggle was due to circumstances that were entirely beyond his control. Having grown up in the deepest depths of Falyndar's forests, all that Dor'gen knew revolved around Taloba and its people: the Myrians. He was the sole child of Kisala, a daughter of the Tempered Steel; and by most standards that would be enough to warrant him a normal life and upbringing. However, the issue of who, or rather what, he and his sire were caused him no end of grief. Put simply, the sons and daughters of Myri did not take kindly to those who were different amongst their midst.
And being a tall, purple-skinned, elongated-eared humanoid was the definition of "different."
As such, the young Akalak's days were filled to the brim with the torments of his fellow children. While Dor'gen would do all in his power to earn their acceptance, all he received in the end was thrown rocks and jeers. However, he dare not break down and show weakness...he dare not shed a single tear...for that would only add heaps of fuel to the raging inferno of their ridicule. No, instead, the youngling would simply endure the hell handed down to him by child and adult alike; only to find respite at the conclusion of each and every day. When the final meal was concluded and the longhouse began to quiet, Dor'gen's mother would lead her beloved child out to their hammock. There, she would cradle her precious son in her arms and sing to him the words that would lull him off to sleep.
I'll love you forever.
I'll love you for always.
As long as I'm living -
My baby you'll be.
No matter the distance.
No matter the worries.
As long as I'm living -
My baby you'll be.
No matter the pain.
No matter the sorrow.
As long as I'm living -
My baby you'll be.
Each day, these tender words sent the young Akalak off into the waiting embrace of slumber...and every morning, Dor'gen would awaken with a kiss upon his brow. His dear mother would greet him with her loving smile and start his day with affection: giving him the strength to bear the torment that undoubtedly awaited him. This day, in particular, began as any other. Shortly after being awakened by his mother, the young Akalak was taken by the hand and led off to receive his morning meal. Although he received no shortage of glares and dismissive huffs along the way, Dor'gen was promptly fed the usual assortment of fruit and water...Before his mother decided to show him something new. For months now, she had been noting the growth of her child; and marked today as the beginning of his education.
Sure, he received basic instruction from those appointed to the task of cultivating soldiers for Myri's Army; but Kisala had a specialty. She, as many respected her for, was a bladeswoman of a high caliber...and it was time that her son followed in her footsteps. When he had concluded his meal, she took him by the hand and led him down to the training field. There, she set him before one of the unoccupied training dummies and faced her boy with a stern look plastered upon her face. "Alright Dor'gen, today you'll learn one of the most important lessons of your life. What I am about to show you is the foundation of every sword form that I know, and can be build upon in countless ways. I cannot tell you how many times this lesson has saved my life; and I'm sure that it will one day save yours." she began.
At first, apprehension was affixed to the young Akalak's face...but it was quickly replaced by utter excitement! It was not everyday that Dor'gen received a lesson from his mother, after all. "Yes, mama." he said, nodding with eagerness. Kisala couldn't help but allow a small smile to form on her lips as she looked upon her boy; but quickly got serious once again. Stepping past, she reached her hand into one of the barrels of training weapons strewn about. There, she fished around until her fingers seized a single weapon. 'Twas a bastard sword, composed completely of wood. Turning, she promptly deposited the weapon into her boy's hands and gave him a nod. Now, typically-speaking, such weapons were too large for children to even dream of wielding.
However, given that Dor'gen was an Akalak, he could with slight difficulty. It took two hands to hold up, and was noticeably heavy within his grasp, but he could do it!
"Alright Dor'gen, this is the first part of your lesson." began Kisala, indicating the head of the dummy. "Each enemy you encounter will be made up of 'Vital Spots'. These locations will do the most damage if struck; and the form that I'll teach you will emphasize hitting as many of these spots as quickly as possible. First off is the head..." she said, gently tapping the dummy's head with her finger. "...the torso...the left arm...the right arm...the left leg...and the right leg. Each of these is numbered one through five, with one being head, two being torso, etc." With each statement, she jabbed her finger into the respective zone on the dummy. Dor'gen followed along diligently, nodding his head dutifully with each indication. "Okay then, let's see if you really understand then son." she said, addressing him with a mother's skepticism. "Give me a 1-2-3 strike."
"Yes mama!" he said, eager to make her proud.
Stepping forth, the young Akalak gripped his weapon tightly in both of his hands before raising it over his head. Coming down, he smacked the dummy as hard as he could upon its head. With a solid thumb, the burlap form recoiled against the wood of the weapon, yet Dor'gen soldiered forward. Grunting with determination, Dor'gen then reared back and slashed at the dummy's mid-section...however the weight of the sword caused the momentum of his swing to spin him about. It took all of the boy's effort to keep a hold of his weapon! Quickly turning around, he concluded his "combo" with a simple bash of the dummy's left arm. Although it lacked finesse, he hit all three of the indicated zones; much to the approval of his mother. Kisala clapped her hands together once and smiled...before utter seriousness claimed her expression again.
"Good job. Now let's work on your stance. You damn near lost your sword on that one."
Word Count1,137
.
.
