Closed The Good Fight [Nayato]

[Vypec]

82nd of Winter, 515 A.V. Noon, Kendoka Sasaran Vypec had shoved his Kuvay'Nas on unceremoniously as he hurried to the Kendoka Sasaran. He had duty in a few bells, guarding the Zhongjie Market. That had historically been an eventful duty for the Akalak. Despite this chance of action, he still wanted to go to the Kendoka Sasaran and get a decent workout in. The Akalak was eager for the end of the winter and thought that it might usher in the opportunity to be selected by a Squad Leader. He could not tell why he thought this, but he was optimistic. The Akalak had resolved to hit the training harder for the last remaining days of the season. Winter was leaving, they could all tell in the weather. Some of the wintered ships had already eagerly set sail for home and the city was generally more active. Vypec, for his part, had increased his duties and his training. He had nothing else to do and no reason not to. The Akalak smiled at the familiar sight of the low building that was the Kendoka Sasaran. It was like a second home to him nowadays. The young warrior spent as much time inside it's squat walls as he did in his own bed. Inside there weren't many people sparring or practicing their stances. At noon most of the city was toiling away at work and the off duty Warriors were probably sparring at the Kuvay'Nas Lodge. But the Kendoka Sasaran had been closer to home and Vypec had wanted to get in a decently lengthy sparring session before heading off to duty. Vypec breathed deeply and sent up a prayer to both Akajia and Wysar for strength, discipline, and determination in this day. He unsheathed the gladius from its worn leather sheath and threw the scabbard into the corner. The Akalak assumed the Onmakarux position and began to step in the familiar circles. It was getting to the point where the basic circles of the style were second nature and he was turning his attention onto the more complex movements and attacks that the single blade style had to offer. But the end goal was to master Dimakarux. This was a very long term goal indeed. He had heard of humans who did not live long enough to master the Akalak dual wielding style. His grandfather, Dremandos, had urged him to pursue this lofty goal. He said that any skill that took time to perfect was a skill worth taking the time on. Vypec slid his blade through the air, keeping his eyes on the neck of an imaginary opponent. It was important to watch your opponent's feet, neck, and eyes. These were the signal points, according to Dremandos, for action. If you mastered your observation of these subtle hints, you could master the sword. The gladius moved through the air and Vypec braced his arm as if it would impact another blade with every strike against the air. It was important to practice the movements as if you were in real combat. It was about conditioning the body for the real thing, not simply reciting the movements like some drone. One must be constantly aware that it was the finality of death that they were learning to deny. That two feet of steel was the only thing between Vypec and pain. The only thing between Vypec and death, and failure. Vypec went through the initial motions of the basic Onmakarux circles. By the end of his initial run through he had a healthy sheen of sweat on his forehead and along his scalp. His undershirt was damp around the collar as well. He remembered when the weight of the gladius was heavy in hand and such circles were hard to finish. That had been many years ago, but it measured the progress he had made. He was proud of his modest conditioning. Lofty goals meant one climbed high or fell far. Vypec did not plan on falling. The Akalak went through the various strikes and blocks after the initial circles. He lifted the blade horizontally for the High Block. Instantly upon gaining one position he would shift seamlessly into the next. The gladius swung down quickly into a Low Thrust, meant to cut and maim the knee or ankle. That was how one fought against shield wielders. Bring down their legs and one would bring down their shield. Then it was a shot to the throat. Vypec lunged with his sword, feeling the sweat drip from the end of his nose. As Vypec moved he was faintly aware of a few newcomers entering the Kendoka Sasaran. Apparently there were a decent amount of warriors who were doing no work that day. He grinned ruefully. It had not been a prayer day today, so he had allowed himself a half a bell of extra sleep. The walk to the Temple of Wysar usually meant he was up and watching Syna rise, but not today. He had needed the extra sleep. His body was sore and a bit of respite after a week of this increased sparring regimen did him some good. He could even feel the difference in the swiftness of his movements today. All he needed was a strong partner to really push him. The Akalak was beginning to understand that there was not much more improving he could do at this level of the Onmakarux without a skillful opponent. As his father always said, if you want to sweat you have to burn. Vypec took the saying to mean you needed to suffer to get better. He wondered vaguely if there was anyone in the Kendoka Sasaran who would be willing to make him suffer a bit, for the sake of learning of course. Vypec sighed and relaxed his body as he peered around at the newcomers. He let the gladius fall by his side, tapping lightly against his thigh. The Akalak took a moment to catch his breath and contemplate if any of those in the sparring room would be a good match for him today. 1018 words

[Nayato]

82nd of Winter, 515 A.V.

It had often been remarked during his youth that Nayato was the quietest of the boys in his tribe. This was not a difficult observation to be made, for the others were known in main for their excessive, boisterous natures when around other members of the tribe. His father said he would make a good hunter because of it. When his fellow kin entered a tent, they stormed it with noise; their last was distant with no words. Such a trait befitted a squire very well, and so Nayato approached the Riverfall city gate with intent to leave as little imprint on anyone else - precisely as was his nature. But contrary to his nature, he was still a man in full armor. His heavy boots seldom left his arrivals unannounced with ominously thumping steps and creaking of leather joints that echoed like metallic whispers when combined with the rattles of steel from his armor.

Nayato's gauntlet covered fingers curled bitterly around the reins in his hand, leading his dutifully horse along, heavy steps drawing him closer to the entrance of the city. "Welcome, traveler. Here is a scroll of welcome from the city. It contains a list of our laws, a map of the city, and some advertisements from local businesses that sponsor these scrolls to be made. You can feel free to come in if you agree to our laws and turn this scroll back in when you leave so we can reuse it." A large Akalak absently said to him, eyeing the heraldry of The Windoak etched into the chest plate of his armor.

Nayato took a moment to examine the map as the guards equally looked him over, taking note of the khopesh sheathed on his side ad buckler shield strapped to his left forearm. He lifted the visor on his helmet to give the guards a polite smile before storing the scroll away into a saddle back and entering the city. He knew exactly where he wished to go. The Kendoka Sasaran.

On his walk to his destination a good friend of his made herself known.


"I know what I'm doing Ibiski. Let me train in peace Ibiski. The world doesn't need another person who is only out for themselves Ibiski ... I should bite your ankle for being so sand swayed by the plights of others." Nayato glanced through the visor of his helmet to the ground at his side, rolling his obsidian eyes at beautiful glowing ethereal golden dingo that followed him. Her soothing tone of voice filled with the playful sting of sarcasm. Nayato ignore her attitude as if the animal guardian were an annoying little sibling.

He spoke to her in his native language of tawna as he led his horse down the streets of Riverfall. "I thought you'd be happy that I'm trying to strengthen my martial prowess?" The dingo tilted its head up at him with a coy expression. "I am." She replied with a mischievous tone that served to confuse the squire. And In the span of a moment between a blink his eyes, Ibiski had vanished from sight. He put the whole interaction out of his mind while he tied his Eyktolian Desertbred to a post outside of the Kendoka Sasaran before entering the building.

Nayato lingered at the entrance for a moment to watch the few people sparing within the room.

[Vypec]

Vypec had seen many people come and go in Riverfall. He liked to believe that though he had grown up in the city and never left, he had seen his fair share of oddities. But then the stranger dressed in full armor walked in. He carrier a foreign looking blade and a small shield strapped to his arm. Vypec tilted his head as he watched the man survey the room. Curiosity urged him to go over and talk to the stranger. Vypec wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his free hand and eyed the man's blade once again. The stranger wore heavy plate armor and Vypec could see long hair falling down below the helm. From what he could see of the man's skin it was dark, possibly from the south? Vypec waved to get his attention. He cleared his throat and decided to try his hand at his common. He rarely used it, instead assuming that everyone in Riverfall spoke Tukant. "What is you name? You are new to city?" He paused, frowning as he tried to recollect the broken memories of the language. It was vital to learn, because of its wide use in trade. But he had neglected lessons in it in favor of pursuing his other skills. "I am Vypec Algranos, I am Kavran." He said to introduce himself. The Akalak looked again at the man's sword. He wondered what foreign school of combat the warrior had practiced and whether it was worth being introduced to. Of course it was, all combat was worthy of focus, his father always said. The curved blade of the stranger's sword was longer than his own gladius. In an odd way it reminded the Akalak of his own Lakan, though larger. He wondered how the thing would fair against his own blade. The Onmakarux school of combat was well practiced against the other Rivarian schools, but this opportunity to test its mettle against that of a foreigner was too enticing to pass up. Vypec grinned down at the man, standing about a head taller than him. "I decide it would be honor to spar you." He nodded as if that would help the man understand his broken common. They had gathered the attention of a few of the other patrons of the Sasaran. All mostly were trying to glean some knowledge of the foreign looking man from eavesdropping on their conversation, most likely. As Vypec frowned around at the various combatants the sounds of the Sasaran picked up again. The clash of steel on steel, the muffled thumping of feet on smooth wood. This was home for him, and he was curious how much it was home for the stranger. Vypec smiled and nodded, reassuring the stranger of his intent for a friendly sparring match. He raised his gladius and spread his feet, falling into the side stance of the Onmakarux style. The dark Akalak breathed deeply, letting the air pass between his lips in a steady stream each time. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, waiting for Nayato to ready himself. 520 words