Closed Abide No Weakness (Soharaa)

[Quzon]

9th Day of Summer, 515 A.V.
~Dawn~

Quzon was spectacularly fortunate that he was part Isur. Even if Sultros held no claim of loyalty to him; try as hard as his father might, Taloba was his home. That didn't mean that he was free from its sway. It was his belief in Izurdin which beckoned him to awaken from his sleep to worship in his own way. The sun was still in the early stages of its morning rise.

A time when Syna's light barely touched the darkness of the previous night, turning the sky a vibrant violet over the jungle city. Even the early birds had yet to stir from their nests, and the entire jungle was filled with an eerie silence. His shoulders bore the fifty pound weight of a thick iron chain which hung around his neck, and despite the fact that he strained under the weight of the simple body building tool, he kept running.

The Tiger's Jaws obstacle course was his adversary today day in every way. It was no simple task to run, and harder still to move while weighed down. "Dedication, Strength, Victory." Quzon grunted out the simple mantra in the isur language.

He wore little in regards to clothing during his training, remaining only clad in a simple loincloth. The only thing he brought with him was his hand-axe which was kept snugly against his lower back. Every sinew of muscle strained to keep him together during his sprint. He ran a circular path along an obvious course lined with tall waist height tree stumps to vault over and long slender wooden raised platforms a foot off of the ground to balance across.

As Quzon quickly approached a tree stump, his face tensed from the slight sensation of pain in the back of his left thigh as he forced himself to jump. The palm of his left hand slammed down against the top of the stump to brace himself as he used his forward momentum to fling the rest of his body over the tree stump. He landed on the ground with a resounding thud. He regained his proper footing before continuing to run.

His body grew sore surprisingly fast after only a short running session, it was not an unexpected sensation considering the added weight against his body. And not being one to complain, all he could do was simply grin and bare it. He kept his head held high to straighten his posture, swinging his arms back and forth at his sides as he pushed off of the ground with the balls of his feet. The ends of the heavy iron chain patted against his chest step after each step.

"Breath."

He inhaled deeply through his nostrils, allowing his stomach to expand as he forced air into his lungs. It mitigated the pain in his side by satisfying his bodies crave for oxygen. He exhaled out through his mouth until his stomach contracted before breathing again. He wasn't fast, no. The course made sure of that. But speed wasn't his goal, his goal was to keep up any amount of speed for as long a distance as his legs would carry him.

For a moment he was exhilarated, certain that the accumulation of sweat which had gathered on his brow validated his efforts. He found victory in every ragged breath, knowing that the pain he felt reflected weakness leaving his body. Quzon stopped abruptly at the start of the obstacle course to stop catch his breath. He gave a heavy shrug to heave the weights off of his shoulders to the ground behind him. Quzon thought the field at the center of the course he ran looked like the perfect place to probably practice fighting by preforming wrestling stance motion drills before running again.

[Soharaa]

9th Day of Summer, 515 A.V. Soharaa was tough. She allowed no one to call her otherwise. She had both a strong mind and heart, and a strong body to carry that strong mind and heart. Not even a cut by a dagger could make her cry, nor a scolding water could make her shriek and jump. She was as much a warrior as a warrior could be in Taloba. But with that mighty strength of hers- that toughness which could only be matched with that of a Myrian tiger- there came a small festering of anger. That was what she had today as she viewed a male on the course of the Tiger's Jaws. It was the very course which she would go to every morning and which she would practice to add more to her already immense strength. But this man had ruined her routine because he was around, and taking up the track with his manliness! It enraged her to no end, yet she waited patiently at the back of the track, hoping that this man would end his training hastily. Men were not as strong in Taloba, so it would not be unnatural to see him give in and call it a day within quick time. From the looks of how heavy those weights were, Soharaa could assume that this man would not last very long. But he did last long, in fact, and he continued to last as even the weights came off his pale body. Soharaa was surprised that a male could have this much determination in a city filled with women who oppressed them. And as she continued to watch the man work himself to deaths door she suddenly began to feel a slight admiration for him. Maybe, she began thinking, maybe there is some strength in this man as well. She most certainly wanted to find out if there was. When he stopped to practice some wrestling moves, Soharaa stood up from where she was leaning on the wall. Her blond hair which fell to the top of her back was straightened by her because she did not enjoy it when it was in knots. She spent several bells in the morning with a brush making certain that there were no knots to annoy her. Which was mostly one of the reasons she had been so late to the Tiger's Jaw today, and why she had to wait on such a male to finish his training. She would wait no longer. As he began his wrestling practice, Soharaa walked confidently towards him. Today was a hot day, or what she would normally prefer to call: a good fighting day. Soharaa had come to the Tiger's Jaw with only her undergarments and a loincloth, she would have brought a shirt but felt that sweating in her bra would be less messy. She hated performing actions in a wet white vest even more than she hated performing with knots in her hair, they only brought her down. As she neared the man she called out to him. "Hey, you," was all she said, then she stopped abruptly to pay specific attention to his arm. From where she once stood, she thought that this man's arm was nothing but a painting. There was a woman in Taloba that worked specifically to paint realistic pictures on to people, she thought that this same woman had done something to make this man's arm look as solid as a grey rock. However, as she was finally close to see this man fully, she could tell that it actually was as solid as a grey rock! His skin was also very queer. It was pale, even more so than Soharaa's was. Her skin was not the same color as every Myrian, but his' made him look as a ghost in the dark of night. "What are you?" She asked bluntly, expecting an answer from this male as soon as she asked. Once he answered, she would soon ask him another question as quick as she possibly could, having no want for heavy conversation. "Are you strong?" She asked. "Can you fight?" She truly wished to know. "Wanna fight me?" She demanded an answer from him.

[Quzon]

Quzon listened to every one of her questions, but chose not to answer her because he was in the middle of starting a motion drill. Or rather, he was about to preform the first and only repetition of the drill that he could before she had so rudely disturbed him.

Quzon took a stance with his feet just a bit wider than his shoulder-width apart and bent his knees until he could rest his forearms on his thighs. It seemed like a simple enough thing to slightly squatting into his wrestling stance called a Square stance, it was a drill used to install muscle memory and build up solid foundation in his square stance to preform a take down. He placed his open hands out in front of him in position to grab or defend himself from an invisible opponent.

He kept his hips bent, but his back. Once he was in the low squat, he pressed his heels into the ground to stand back up. Sowly, and with control, he return to the the wrestling stance-squat position, and back up again. He could feel the burn in his thighs as he continued to squat for a full set of fifteen repetitions.

His nostrils continued with their flare from focused breathing as his emerald eyes narrowed in annoyance at the tone of the interrupting woman's voice, the tension at his jaw loosened enough for the half-Isur to find a voice deepened with graveled gravatus and irritation alike.

"Never lower your hands. Ever." They were words spoken aloud to himself in their natural Myrian language as he ignored the woman's existence. "Lowered hands at any time during a match will allow an opponent to move in and take you down... Never Lower your hands." Just like muscle memory, he drilled the words into his mind.

He adjusted his wrists so that the palms of his hands were facing up ready to grab. "Palms down slow your reaction time." Holding the last squatting stance after having run the course made every muscles of his thighs surge with an annoying soft sting. He kept his square stance, keeping his rear end down, knees bent, hands out and his head up. Then started to shuffle his feet, bringing the instep of his left foot midway to his right before stepping further to his side by moving his right foot. Retaking his shoulders length stance without ever crossing his feet. He then repeated the steps to in reverse to return to his former location.

Aside from the mild inconvenience of being interrupted before he could truly begin, he felt his rudeness in ignoring her for a short moment made up for it and decided to answer her questions. He stood up to his full height and turned to look her into her eyes. To her first question he simply stated the truth. "I am Quzon of the Barbed Earth clan. I am a Myrian like my mother, but hold the appearance of my father who hails from the kingdom of the Isur." To her second question he quirked a brow. "Strength of the mind and body are both built through dedication, and I will someday be as if a unyielding mountain in the face of a great storm. Until that day, I am as strong as I currently need to be."

He knew what her questions were building up towards causing him to answer her third and fourth questions together. "You will be able to measure my ability for yourself shortly. Now, Female. Name yourself and ready for combat." Quzon disarmed himself by tossing the hand-axe to the ground that was held against his lower back between his belt.

[Soharaa]

Anger Is Your Enemy Soharaa could not believe that this arrogant male was ignoring her, after she had graced his pitiful life with her words, even with her presence! He instead continued his activity as though she had never been alive. Soharaa was fuming with anger now thanks to this male. She remembered the last time she had been this mad at a male. He, unlike the one who she was dealing with now, had decided to talk to her too much! Mostly all he spoke about was how beautiful of a body Soharaa had, as if any of that mattered?! What mattered to Soharaa was the battlefield, that's what her body was built for and that's where her head remained. That male had gotten her to this point, and in response she had kneed him in the place where his mind seemed to wonder at that moment. To be clear, she did not knee him in the head. She had gotten in large trouble because of that, and suffered a beating harder than she ever had by her parents. Ever since that day, she had vowed to control her anger a little more, for if she went with every sudden temperamental impulse she had then she would be cutting out every male's tongue in Taloba, and suffering a mighty punishment because of it. So, as she did while this male was on the track, she waited for that beautiful moment when this male would accept her challenge so she could beat him to a bloody pulp. Even if this male did not accept, he would find a sneak attack come from his back, forcing him to fight her lest he wanted to be called weak among his peers. To her satisfaction, the male accepted, calling himself Quzon of the Barbed Earth clan as he did so. She did not know such a clan name existed, which was odd because she knew most famous clan names of Taloba. Soharaa would need to research this clan, as she does with every new clan she hears of, just for the fun of knowing its great history. "Hello 'Unyielding mountain'. I am Soharaa of the Tiger-Eyed," she said as she pointed to the tiger eye tattoo on her forehead. "I descend from a clan who was run by Myri's daughter. I am as dangerous as a great storm itself." Soharaa began to slowly circle around this man, reaching for the dagger on her waste as she did so. She noticed how the male placed down his weapon, so she would do the same as a show of honor between Myrians. And so she did, taking the dagger out of her scabbard and throwing it to the ground. "Let us see how unyielding of a mountain you are." Soharaa would circle around this male, not daring to be foolish enough to take a step forward. He was bigger, and from the looks of his muscles he was also stronger. If she wanted to win she would need to be patient and allow this Quzon to foolishly think that he had the upper hand. When he least expected anything would be when Soharaa won the battle. For now, she did nothing, and waited like a true fighting tactician, for Quzon to make the first step. "Come at me, and face a true terrible gushing wind, unyielding mountain!" She taunted him, urging him to make the first move.

[Quzon]

Quzon kept his stoic gaze locked on Soharaa as she spoke, his eyes exuded intense care and consideration. Against his will, a smile softened the grimness of his own countenance. He could not hide the fact that he truly relished the thrill of combat. The moment before a fight when the blood began to surge and all of the senses were driven into high alert.

As a practitioner of wrestling Quzon took a fighting stance reminiscent of his previous wrestlers stance, the only difference being his hands were raised higher. He stood with hands held up high so that they were just below the top of his head by his face. His hands were partially open in a relaxed grip and both of his palms were facing forward yet slightly towards each other; any moment he could fully ball his fists to throw a punch, or open them fully to grapple.

From what he could see Soharaa was, by all accounts, lovely with a slight supple and lean build. She might have had some form of advantage in strength against another, but against him he was the physically stronger. As his eyes continued to search for a weakness he realized that Soharaa held many unique traits of her own. From her fair skin to blue eyes, but it was her golden hair which intrigued him for a fleeting moment. When she began to circle him, he moved to circle around her. Never leaving his back exposed to her.

A trivial thing such as a simple taunt would not cause his blood to boil. When he moved in to attack it would be because he felt that it was the proper course of action. His strength was his advantage making it in his best interest to use it. "Tell me 'Great Storm', where is the homeland of your father?"

He did not wait for an answer.

Quzon erupted from where he stood, pressing off of the ground with his back right foot as he sprinted towards her. He closed the distance between them and tried to tackle her. He aimed to forcefully smash his stocky chest against Soharaa's body. If connected he would then wrap his arms around her midsection and lock his hands behind her back to put her into a tight body-lock bear hold.

[Soharaa]

Too Much Power As she circled him, he circled her, and for a moment this situation reminded Soharaa of two tigers sizing each other before lashing out their teeth. This excited Soharaa, as every challenge against a worthy looking opponent did. She felt her heart pumping, her eyes opening wide with focus, and her body becoming very light. She was ready, now all she needed was for him to act. As she gaze upon her enemy, she began to recognize this Isurian male's stance to that of another fighter she knew. This male was in the wrestling stance, which was barely recognizable because of his hand placement. Luckily for Soharaa, she had seen many wrestling matches. Although not many wrestlers placed their hands near their face, their stance was all the same, like wild low gorillas preparing to throw someone to Caiya's sun. Soharaa would surely need to be careful with this man. His muscles were large, and with those arms Soharaa knew that a grapple would hurt ten times worse, as would a punch as well. She couldn't allow this male to hold her, not if she wanted to have a victory over him. As the Unyielding Mountain finished sizing her skills and weakness, he said something that took Soharaa by surprise. "Tell me 'Great Storm', where is the homeland of your father?" He asked, and Soharaa stopped to answer. She had been used to other Myrians confusing her father for another race when it was actually her grandfather's genes that turned her hair blonde and her skin lightly paler. When she prepared the answer which she told all the others, she had forgotten that she was in the middle of a battle. The man pounced towards Soharaa, who barely had enough time to react. "You little-" She began but halted at her words as the male crashed his shoulder into her stomach. Words could no longer escape her, but the sound of grunts and struggle did. The male quickly took advantage of the stunned Soharaa and grasped her into a horrible bear hug. "Aaaah!" She yelled in frustration as the male began to crush her waist. Soharaa was captured in this males arms, something which she resolved not to be. "You will pay for that!" She screamed as she struggled to get out of this males hold. Unfortunately, Soharaa was not as powerful enough to escape while this males biceps penetrated her skin. She was close to him- she hated it- she could smell his must- she hated it- and she wasn't powerful enough to escape him- she hated it! Soharaa had rage build inside her for this male, and it had yet to be released. She would make him pay, she was sure that she would. Luckily for Soharaa, this male had focused mainly on grabbing her waist, leaving her arms free from his iron biceps. Had he trapped both her waist and her arms then Soharaa would not have a chance to escape. She decided that her first plan of action would be to take advantage of this mistake. Soharaa lifted her hand to the sky while she allowed this male to believe that she was powerless to his grip. This hold was incredibly painful, so she would not need to do much to show this male that she was hurting. She grunted and yelled at the top of her lungs of how much she was going to kill his weaselly hide. That would be enough to convince him that he had complete control. If a mother hen screamed and kicked for her egg to return to her, after all, then that meant she was powerless to take back her egg. When Soharaa mustered all her strength, against the horrible pain which she felt on her waist, she sent both her palms crashing against both the males ears. This would cause a horrible reaction for the male, bursting his ear drums and leaving him deaf. The only thing that this male should hear in that moment are the sounds of a low whistle blown with no end. The male will also feel very shocked, because he too will witness horrible pain. However, this male would not be shocked for long. Recovery can happen instantly with this attack, so Soharaa had to act quickly. She grabbed the back of his ears with her claws and pulled on them until the male felt like his ears were being ripped off. Truthfully, Soharaa was trying to rip his ears off. As she held onto him she also began to bash her forehead against his head, hoping to cause enough pain and annoyance for him to release her.

[Quzon]

Grading

Soharaa

If you return to Miz, or aorund, don’t forget to deduct living expenses for Summer 515 AV from your ledger, then either PM me or resubmit the thread for your grade.

Grading

Quzon

Wrestling: 2
Bodybuilding: 2
Running: 1
Endurance: 1
Acrobatics: 1
Observation: 3

Lore
Meditative Mantra: Dedication, Strength, Victory.
Wrestling: Never lower your hands.
Quzon: Will become an unyielding mountain
Soharaa the 'Great Storm
Wrestling: Body lock.