Solo The Skills that Kill

[Azmere]

77th of Winter, 515 AV

Azmere stood next to Sparrow. The two were very similar in size but each had their own strengths. They had been paired off to train and Azmere was open to the idea of a spar but Sparrow had other plans. He had explained how his pavilion had instituted a different way to train that involved multiple levels and various weapons or techniques. Curious and willing to learn, Azmere had agreed and so the two sat atop their horses on the crest of a large but gentle hill. Sparrow was not an attractive man but his smile was warm like Syna’s blessed light. Azmere admired the way his fellow watchman always seemed to be in a good mood.

The first task was to ride down the hill and fire two arrows, one at a central target as it is passed and then to fire backwards at a smaller target that acts as an outlier. Sparrow signed that Azmere should go first. The older Drykas was more skilled with a bow but the younger man was familiar with the course. Azmere adjusted himself on the yvas. The horse he sat upon was old but constant. Hephiestian was nearing the end of his days but could still gallop along with the younger stallions. What he lacked in endurance was made up by the strength of the bond between animal and rider. Azmere stroked the soft fur on the beast’s neck with his free hand and then sat upright. He looked over the course before him trying to gauge the best approach and realized that this was only practice. There was no need to be perfect the first time.

The archer dug his heels into the flanks of his mount and Hephiestian sprang forward picking up speed quickly as he was steered by Azmere down the hill. The mismatched eyes bore ahead into the large sack stuffed with dried grass. His arm bent at the elbow then twisted at the shoulder so his hand could retrieve an arrow. The small band of leather on his thumb caught the shaft where it held a fletching. Azmere’s arm reversed its motion and brought the projectile forth to rest upon the bow. He applied opposing pressure from his thumb and index finger to catch the notch on the string then continued the action until the curve of Vihar was increased until a full draw was achieved. Azmere’s left arm pointed at the quickly approaching target, his hand almost touching his cheek. As the distance shrank, the watchman twisted his midsection while squeezing his thighs. This kept the target lined up with the shaft of the arrow and gave him a firmer base from which to fire. Hephiestian barreled down the hill feeling he tighter grip from his Drykas and elongated his stride so the ride was smoother. Azmere took a deep breath and as they passed the target, he exhaled and released the arrow in unison. A true hunter, Azmere kept his eyes trained on the arrow after the shot had left his hand. He hit the target but it was a bit low and to the right. He made a face but could not dwell on this as there was another shot to take.

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[Azmere]

Azmere was frustrated by his miss and quickly drew another arrow. While many would consider hitting the target a victory, the watchman had higher expectations for himself than most. With the loss of his family, the Drykas had found the only peace he was able to reach was when he felt accomplished in some way. Hephiestian continued to gallop forth and Azmere repeated the motion of notching and drawing. The difference came as he twisted his body back to the left. The target was fifteen feet away and fell further behind which caused the man to twist his midsection even more to remain on point. He breathed in through his nose, pointed his left hand at the shrinking enemy then exhaled. He released the second arrow and watched it sail a foot over the sack. Azmere released a growl of disapproval.

The watchman turned to face forward in his yvas and instantly had to duck down and to the right as a tree branch swept over him and his mount. Taking firm hold of the yvas handle, the Drykas steered the stallion around a fallen tree, several prickly bushes and then coaxed the old horse to jump a down branch. Hephiestian responded with each tug that resulted in a smooth winding through the mini obstacle course. Once they passed around another tree, Azmere used his legs to guide his companion back in the direction of Sparrow. He slipped Vihar over his head and shoulder then took hold of the yvas once more. Azmere turned his knees inward and brought them up onto the yvas giving him several feet in height. He leaned over the horse and encouraged him to ride hard with words and the occasional toe tap to the side. The knuckles of the watchman’s left hand were white on the handle of his yvas. This was not the most comfortable way to ride but the purpose of training was to push boundaries.

Azmere gripped his club in his right hand and rode down towards another target. This one was in a tree tucked between a low branch and a higher one that crossed in a perpendicular fashion. To conserve strength, the warrior allow his right arm to trail behind his body holding the club in a way that made is appear to be an extension of his body. He watched the target approach calculating his timing while the strider barreled towards the tree. Closer. Closer. Now!

Azmere pushed up with his legs while swinging his arm forward allowing the weight of the club to drop it down next to Hephiestian. The momentum brought the head up and then Azmere redirected over his head and then outward catching the sack dead center just as his lift had reached its peak. The impact nearly tore the club from his hand which also caused his base to slip back on the yvas several inches. It was not a very comfortable feeling to feel that chest muscle strain but Azmere had enough sense to pull back on the yvas. This slowed Hephiestian from a hard gallop to a moderate trot and gave the watchman a chance to recover his posture and position.

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[Azmere]

The trial wasn’t over, however, and once he had the club back up close to his body, he pushed the horse on towards the final obstacle. At the top of the hill to the west of where he had started, Sparrow was waiting. There was a final sack of grass that needed to be taught a lesson. Hephiestian huffed and spit from the exertion. Azmere made a note to pay someone at the Guided Horse to give his stallion an extra bit of care very soon. Knees in and weight balanced so he can move with the old beast, Azmere trained his eyes on the final mark. He steered the strider off to the left just a bit then swung his left leg to the right side. This shift in the rider’s weight caused the horse to slow instinctively. Without missing a beat, Azmere dropped to the ground using the forward momentum to easily put his body in a sprint. He closed the final ten yards easily and swung his club around with a massive force provided by both hands and the muscles of his core to half lift half tear the sack freeing the dried grass from its confinement.

Sparrow applauded but gave a mocking laugh. “Not bad for an old man, though you missed the second shot. I thought you were supposed to be an archer, Stormblood.” He took a stance of aggression and started to circle Azmere. Not needing an invitation, Azmere tossed his club aside and joined in the dance. He slowly rolled his fingers into his palms and squeezed creating tight fists while he brought them close to his face. He settled his weight evenly by bending his knees and making sure to not cross his feet. Sparrow feinted a lunge but Azmere did not react. He watched his opponent carefully and made a decision about his next move. His half-brother taught him that no one feints just once. The unscarred corner of Azmere’s mouth curled in a derisive smile. Halfway around the circle and Sparrow made an attempt towards Azmere’s left side but this time he was met with a sharp jab to the jaw. It made a pop sound and sent Sparrow back to the safe distance of the circle though he did stagger twice. The younger man shook his head allowing the long black hair to whip around his face. He didn’t like to be hit.

Azmere waited now. Having several winters on Sparrow, he knew the tendency for blood to boil was higher in young men. Sparrow lunged forward again but this time he led with his fist. It was a powerful swing but the draw and release was too easy to see. Azmere lifted his left arm and deflected the blow up and away with a slight push. Before sparrow would have a chance to retract his guard, the older watchman brought his right fist from his chin in straight line for Sparrow’s jaw. Azmere immediately followed that by dropping his left arm down in a slight arc to his opponent’s ribs. The double exchange was all facilitated by a stable base and twisting at his hips. Both punches landed and then Azmere bounced away on the balls of his feet allowing the young man to recover a moment. “Not bad for an old man, ey pup?”

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[Azmere]

Sparrow took both shots very well considering the look on his face showed as much pain as surprise especially when the body shot was landed. Sparrow actually buckled a bit with his shoulders tipping in to the hook. His dark eyes followed the older Drykas while the springing steps almost agitated him and his eyes flashed with a boiling rage that told the story of a dented pride. Azmere recognized this like looking into a mirror. He had Sparrow exactly where he wanted him. The elder watchman moved back into the circling pattern and brought his guard back up near his face. In a fight for survival, one must always think that time is of the essence. When one is fighting to improve or learn, time can be your ally. Only experience can teach a man to fight his instinct and bide patience.

Sparrow entered into the circle and once more the men stalked one another. The younger now had a red mark on his chin that was turning into a purple bruise. Halfway around the rotation, Sparrow jabbed out but it was just to test Azmere once more. The archer tucked his head down and to the left to dodge the fist and smiled a bit. Sparrow gave a few ticks a chance to pass before taking another swing but this one was high and over the top. Azmere ducked under it with his head coming forward but his left arm shot out at the same time connecting with Sparrow’s ribs. The man didn’t bother to block because he was lifting a knee to catch the older watchman in the face. Azmere used his right hand to block the knee but instead of deflecting, he allowed the momentum to straighten his form. As soon as he was righted, his opponent leapt forward in an attempt to spear his shoulder into Azmere’s chest. Azmere dropped his right leg behind him and took the initial impact.

Instead of trying to counter the action or throw some kind of perfect haymaker, Azmere allowed his body to bend with the push but used his angled stance to pivot his hips. He dropped his hands down under Sparrow’s arms and grabbed the man’s ribs then used the momentum of the charge in combination with the twisting base to toss the younger Drykas clean from the area. The trick to a good throw was not just leverage which Sparrow had provided on his own but a proper vector. Just before Azmere released the other combatant, he picked up and arched his back. This gave just enough lift so that the other watchman wouldn’t barrel straight into the ground but float for a moment before eating the grass.

Sparrow landed on his right side and rolled once then twice before extending his limbs and creating a base on his hands and knees. Azmere followed his sparring partner and pounced on him as soon as the man got up onto his base. The older Drykas wrapped around his opponent like a spider. His legs went around the man’s waist where Azmere locked his ankles. His left arm went around Sparrow’s neck until the bend of his elbow was centered on the throat. The left hand locked onto Azmere’s right bicep which was tense from the hold. His right hand was pushing Sparrow’s head forward into the vice of the left arm which squeezed as the downward force was applied. Azmere now had a controlling lock on both aspects of his opponent’s breathing; the windpipe and diaphragm. Now, it was only a matter of time.

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[Azmere]

Sparrow felt his oxygen supply getting short and tried to stand. With the weight of Azmere high on his center of gravity, this was next to impossible for an average-sized person. After a moment, he thought about falling forward but he wasn’t given the chance. Azmere felt the initial shift and realized very quickly what Sparrow was trying to do. It was a smart idea but one that would only have been effective if he had dumped Azmere forward on the first try. The older man rocked his weight towards Sparrow’s right and then left. He went back and forth several times before his momentum was enough to topple them both. This caused his ankle lock to fail and separate but the Diamond clansman was able to maintain his chokehold.

Sparrow tried to walk away on his side and made several strides which lessened the tension around his neck but he was growing weak. Azmere was quick to recover using his ab muscles and core to drive his lower half forward enough to where he could wrap up one of Sparrow’s legs in a scissor hold. Sparrow was still using a good deal of strength to resist and pry at the arms and legs that held him. Azmere decided it was time to end the fight. He arched his back and flexed the muscles in his arms and legs. This pulled his opponent in opposite directions and allowed the older watchman the ability to tighten his choke and leg hold simply by applying more pressure. In a matter of ticks, Sparrow was tapping Azmere’s arm signaling that he’d had enough.

Azmere released him instantly and rolled away. His body was tense from the exertion but he still managed to stand quickly and move around in a wide circle. Azmere entered Sparrow’s line of sight from a distance that was out of the man’s reach just in case there were any hurt feelings. He squatted down so he could have a better view of the younger man’s face. With a slow smile, Azmere extended a hand. “Let’s go, young man. We have more work to do.”

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[Jasmine Stormblood]

Let me know if I missed anything

 

Azmere

XP

• Riding: 3 XP
• Unarmed Combat: 3 XP
• Weapon- Longbow: 2 XP
• Brawling: 3 XP
• Planning: 1 XP
• Observation: 3 XP
• Socialization: 3 XP
• Weapon- Club: 2 XP

Lores

• Practice: not perfect the first time
• Tempers flare higher in younger men
• Brawling: only time can teach patience