9th of Winter, 505 AV
The shouts and cheers were mixed with drunken slurs and the occasional pot being shattered either on the ground or someone’s head. This was not unusual for the Diamond clan given the occasion. There was going to be an Honor Proving tonight and one that was years in the making. The new Ankal, though young, was highly regarded in the clan and he had a bone to pick. His younger half-brother had always been a thorn in his side and in the Ankal’s mind, a shame to his Pavilion.
When their father passed, Cassander issued the challenge to Azmere but was denied. Cassander was too young to take over as Ankal and the new head man refused the issue. However, that is when Azmere was asked to go stay with his grandfather to avoid any further conflict. As fate would have it, the two pavilions did business often and the stepbrothers often clashed despite efforts to keep them apart. Azmere had never feared Cassander but he always respected his older sibling. Cassander was strong in both mind and body and though he hid it well, Azmere knew his brother had a dark side.
The Ankal who took the place of Azmere’s father was killed by a Glassbeak six weeks ago. This left Cassander as the unanimous choice to take over the Moonbow pavilion. Azmere had been sent by his grandfather to collect a debt from the Moonbow and was met with resitance from its new Ankal, Cassander. When the younger brother made an effort to resolve the situation peacefully, he was ridiculed and threatened. Azmere did not care about the joke at his expense but he would not fail his mother’s father. His reputation for getting it done was hard-earned and he was not willing to let it go over something so trivial as sibling rivalry. So, like any self-respecting member of the Diamond clan, Azmere punched Cassander in the face and knocked him to the ground. He took the payment owed to the Stormblood pavilion and left on Hephiestian. No one disputed the payment being remitted but the manner in which it was taken was the reason [so everyone is being told] for tonight’s battle. The true reason was a lifetime of aggravation on both sides finally being put to a proper test.
The Diamond clan would occasionally gather for an ages-old tradition known as an Honor Proving. Two men or two women will square off in the center of a pavilion. It’s usually held on neutral ground but not always. The entire clan is invited to attend and there’s always several representatives from every pavilion within Diamond clan in attendance [if not the entirety of it]. Tonight was one of those ‘packed house’ occasions.
Cassander walked out of his tent with his body glistening in the flickering light of the torches. He had knotted ropes tied around his biceps, forearms, wrists, head and calves. He wore an ancient dress that looked something like the offspring of a grass skirt and a loin cloth. He raised his muscular arms in the air with clenched fists and gave out a fierce war cry. This brought a ruckus of cheers from the crowd and a large angry silence from one corner of the assembled mass. Cassander moved into the circle that had been decorated with grass wreaths. Arrows with overly extravagant fletchings were stuck in the ground in an assorted array that looked random. The trick behind the madness was a matching of constellations chosen by the elders of the clan. Ironically, one was the sign Cassander was born under. The second was the birth sign of Azmere and the third was the constellation for Zulrav.
Azmere sat in the stable with Hephiestian. He, too, was dressed in knotted braids and the old time battle dress. He had feathers and beads laced into his hair and henna tattoos to cover his scars. Well, they were on top of the scars at least. Azmere had grown into a finely built man but he lacked a few inches in both height and reach against Cassander. They were very much equals in strength. His advantage would come in heart and the wonderful gift of being underestimated. Hephiestian nudged Azmere in the shoulder to rouse him from his ponderous state. Azmere smirked and patted the creature’s neck. “I hear ya, buddy.” He studied the Strider as he rose to his feet. The chanting was beginning and that meant that Cassander was done showing off. Azmere pressed the bridge of his nose against Hephiestian’s cheek. “Luck in battle, boy.” The horse pfft’d and reared his head back as if to understand the comment.
The offender walked to the edge of the circle where his pavilion made a way for him to pass. He stood outside of it for a moment and lowered his head allowing his eyes to close. He knelt down on one knee and rested his elbow on the raised leg. He whispered a prayer to Zulrav, his god and inspiration. Feeling a light breeze against his cheek, Azmere rose to his feet with a wild look in his eyes. The members of the Stormblood clan began to stomp a beat on the ground and Azmere came alive.
He stomped his right foot in time with his kin while flashing wild looks, flicking his tongue and beginning to chant in Pre-Valterrian Pavi or at least the babble that spawned it. His voice seemed inhuman as shouts and growls formed phrases and taunts. This was all done while a perfectly choreographed dance ensued. Azmere never ceased the stomping of his leg but would occasionally switch legs. He slapped his arms and legs with quick strikes. He beat his fists against his chest and made violent gestures towards Cassander. The older members of the clan recognized the form as something passed down in only three families. It was a form of tribute to the gods that was delivered by warriors before going into battle. Cassander had only heard of this ritual. Surprise and jealousy were written all over his face mixed in with a bit of hatred.
Azmere continued to pound the ground and insinuate doing harm to Cassander all while looking extremely crazy and dangerous with a scarred face and neck. The most fearsome expression was when he opened his eyes wide. The reason it was so intimidating was the accident that marred him turned one of his bright blue eyes to the color of gold. The firelight almost demonized Azmere. Secretly, he enjoyed the dance and continued until the final action was to step into the circle while pulling his thumb against his neck and pointing at Cassander. With his final stomp, his clan ceased their participation and all went silent. Azmere grinned devilishly and after a moment, the entire clan erupted with cheers and loud shouts. Now the fun could begin.
