[Windward Boardwalk] Foreigner Fest (Azeran)

[Rhuryc]

39th Spring, 511 AV Cold. Rhuryc deemed that he liked the cold. And the space. In Syliras he was forced to leave the gate in order to exercise. The Knights did not abide civilians to run through the streets like mad-men in favor of keeping themselves in shape, but here the Boardwalk was open, available, and sparsely populated. So it was that Rhuryc could keep to his morning run without much struggle. And he did. His boots hit the snow with one solid crunch after another, sparsely clad form kept warm through the little more than the activity of his muscles. One foot lashed out after the next, driving through the snow drifts with little regard for the terrain. How many laps was that now? Albeit this was only his second day with his new routine there was already a small path carved into the white-ridden ground, so much as one that was required in any case. His arms pumped, his legs ached, but after such a long time on the road the pain was the pleasant sort. One that felt natural. His sprint slowed to a jog. Breath. Pacing himself, Rhuryc took in slow, deep breathes as he moved, regaining his poise and taking the latter end of his run at a leisurely pace. Only a matter of moments passed before he neared his starting point - a nice, ice sculpted mural of a wolf pack. Strange, sure, but as good a point as any. A satisfied sigh left his lips as he stopped. He was exhilarated. Active. Far too full of energy for what he had accomplished. Best to keep training then. Moving into action, Rhruyc found his way to the front of the sculpture and removed his coat from its head. Beneath lay his sword belt and a battered, well worn shield, the latter of which he carried rarely. Maybe he could take it to a forge and fix the poor thing. With a shrug he went about donning the articles, first the belt then the coat, his simple - foreign - attire enough to keep him active even in the chilled weather of the north. The ring of scraping steel called out across the way. His blade brandished, Rhuryc grabbed his shield and raised both with one another, the latter held aloft at his left side while his sword hovered at the hip. Form. His back straightened. His muscles were stiff, but his grip loose, his body held at ease. It was rare for him to be so comfortable. Not even the cold bothered him. Gently, slowly, the blade came about all on its own, the tip outstretched and still in its ascent, swept from under the waist to above the chest. The movements were smooth, practiced, they followed with one another in a harmonious exchange of pacing. One foot rose as his body came about, stepping out his entire form shifted with the gesture, one assault leading into the next in what was little more a mock battle. A shadowed battle field. Sword and shield played against one another, lancing out in a pattern of control and precision. That was what he needed. Control.

[Azeran]

Azeran and Koarhal had been residing in Avanthal for several days now, and despite being thoroughly wounded by the cold on the way up here, and being stranded here because of it, the Dark Brother of the two was reluctant to leave. Where Azeran found his home within the mountainous city of Riverfall or on the soft beaches of Mura, Koarhal found a woman here he loved. It felt wrong to Azeran to have his body heat up for another than his darling Islena, but he knew it wasn't his desires, it was Koarhal's. If only it was just a Vantha woman, or even some Polar Kelvic with exquisite breasts than Azeran could accept it, but it wasn't. The woman Koarhal hungered for was far beyond his league. It was ridiculous. The massive Akalak sat in silence. Despite being nipped and bitten by the snow, his body did not shiver or shake. His blue skin was hidden in furred clothing, but even then he felt the presence of the wind, the heat-sucking poison of the snow. Even Koarhal hated the snow, the cold of this place, it was like the winters of Riverfall, except there was no way to escape it. But now, at that moment, they embraced it. With closed eyes and slowed breathing, Koarhal (the Dark Brother was leading the body at that moment, with Azeran's consent) was meditating. His mind, by his will alone, expelled the discomforts of the cold, a minor convenience it was and no match for a solid mind and sound meditation. His hands, large enough to cover the scalp of any Vantha Human here, rested gently on the knees of his folded legs. His breathing was slow, as if he was in the middle of a spring-touched field of grass, no snow, no scorching heat, just coolness, warmth, no hassle. It was important to keep a sound mind, a solid mental stability, Koarhal even knew that if he was to snap and kill someone, the woman he sought would never consider him. He had to be an angel here, that was all there was to it. If there was a fight, he needed to be the victim. It was easy, because he was foreign, yet difficult because he was so incredibly large. After several bells, the Akalak would often lose track of time in his trance, he would pull himself out of his dormant state of meditation and stand up, swatting at his legs with his mitten-clad gloves. Snow was sent sprawling from his body, luckily it hadn't melted to him. He didn't want to be wet, not here. Koarhal, glancing around, caught a glimpse of a man jogging, which wasn't abnormal or interesting. He did it himself on occasion, not since he hit Avanthal, since he was recently sick and it was so petching cold here. The man intrigued him because of two things. The first was his size. Rhuryc was large for a human, even more so for a Vantha. Yet, more intriguing than that, was that he was armed. A sword and Shield. Koarhal grinned, he himself had two weapons, two large battleaxes that would require two hands for a smaller being. For the Akalak, who was even large among his own people, they were just hefty one-handed weapons. He reached down and took the frosty steel in his hands, one axe for each hand, and he trudged slowly through the snow towards the man, who was not holding out his weapons, shadow fighting. It was another technique he did on occasion, yet he knew an opponent trained better than your imagination. Koarhal stopped in front of Rhuryc, he wanted to test his skills against another, not in a life and death combat, but that was, he believed, the only kind that truly made one learn about who they were, how they could fight, and how to improve. Life and death need not to be a choice, but Koarhal and Azeran both imagined combat as if it was. To assume otherwise could be your end. "And me." Koarhal's voice was a strong baritone voice, yet his accent was strange and his Common Tongue was primitive. He knew not sentences or phrases. Simple words, a few combinations. Mainly introductions to conversations he didn't understand. He lifted one hand, a large axe was pointed out towards Rhuryc. It was a challenge in a sense, more like an offer to train, but if Rhuryc denied, Koarhal would think he was frightened of him. Most people were already.

[Rhuryc]

Step. Twist. Rhuryc's blade swiped through the air. Solid, precise movements. Turn. Step. Akalak. Wait, what? Rhuryc stopped. When had that happened? Surprised, but not so much disturbed, the man lowered his weapons in respect to the creature. And he was a big one. In his short life Rhuryc had met a few Akalaks, and none of them had been weak. Or unskilled. When the massive warrior came to a stop before him he felt a hint of honor at the acknowledgement. While his countenance remained calm and collected, inwardly he was a mass of emotions. Curiosity, fear, envy, respect. For a moment as the two examined each other there was a shared, kindred spirit. Words seemed rather useless. Before the newcomer even opened his mouth Rhuryc knew what it was that he sought. The weapons he carried were telling. Yet his Common was brutish. Why was it that no one in this damn city spoke his language? Bah! He nodded and turned, his weapons already out and set up to the ready. Both possessed live blades - the danger was great - yet that somehow held little meaning. This was their conversation. "Honored." Rhuryc's Tukant was just as boorish as the Akalak's Common. The best he could do was try. Or fight. The man nodded and took a single step back, his body tensing in response to the challenge. The shield came up and forward, center mass shifting toward his opponent while he lowered the blade to his hip, the length diagonal across his leg and hovering just above the powered white ground. And there he stood. Silent. His eyes locked onto the gaze of his opponent, that intimidating, towering beast, a legend designed for combat. There was no cause for fear. He was excited. His shoulders and grip tightened in anticipation. "On you."

[Azeran]

Koarhal nodded reverently. He wasn't nearly as good at dual wielding as Rhuryc was with a shield and sword combo, but the Akalak had natural advantages of reach and raw strength. Right hand, dominant hand, it led the attack, swift but not blindingly so. The weapon was meant to be two handed by most races, making it still heavy for a single arm, despite being two feet taller than many races. The axe-head shot out dangerously, but it was aimed at the shield rather than Rhuryc's body. He wasn't aiming to kill, and he needed to judge the man's skill before he goes all the way. Whether the attack was blocked, parried, or evaded, Azeran would step foreward, and with his left hand threw another deadly swing, this time with the other wicked battleaxe meant for two hands. There were few races that could wield weapons like this, and Jamoura weren't known to wield any weapons at all. It was a simple attack, one and the other. It was obvious, despite being skilled with the weapons, that Azeran wasn't close to perfecting the art of dual wielding. His motions were slowly moving, out of sync, and rather than moving fluidly with each other, he could only use one at a time.

[Rhuryc]

Heavy. Powerful. Slow. These thoughts all occurred to him at once. To know your opponent was valuable and it was the first thing on Rhuryc's mind. One misstep and that axe would cut clear through him. The Akalak lead with his right - his dominate? - hand and so he countered in the simplest way he knew how. Stepping toward the strike Rhuryc raised his shield in contest, the heavy, metal slab pushed up and forced between his shoulder and the incoming blade. The sickening clang sent a shock up his arm. Damn! Strong bastard. Using the momentum Rhuryc pushed himself forward against his opponent and flung the shield inward in an attempt to send the axe aside and away from his person. The second assault was swift, yet somehow discordant. Two weapons were difficult to fight with at once and then this Akalak fought with axes far to massive for the human to even comprehend in combat. Rhuryc shifted his torso. Turning, he dipped the shield low and lead with his opposing shoulder at the Akalak's chest, his blade remaining at his waist while he flung his weight into the attempted strike, preventing the axe from even coming around to attack. Rhuryc pushed. He made no move to press any sort of advantage, instead choosing to withdraw once he had interrupted the potential assault. The fight was hardly over. Rushing back in Rhuryc finally brought his blade into the engagement, his shield kept low and out of the way as the weapon came up from his waist in a wide, scything arc at the Akalak's torso.

[Azeran]

The first strike, as the Akalak expected, collided with Rhuryc's shield, creating a solid clashing sound and a vibrating jolt through Koarhal's arm. He grinned as the human stumbled slightly, again as expected, yet he was a true warrior, recovering almost instantly, and before Koarhal could stop his already moving second attack, he charged into him, shield first. Being eleven inches taller helped in many ways, as did being naturally heavier. His attack was nullified as Rhuryc pushed into and through Koarhal's shoulder, but didn't have a chance to strike out himself. Koarhal took a moment to recollect himself, shuffle his feet to regain his footing, and prepared to carve the frosty air up once again. The sword was swift as it bit through the wind. Koarhal and Azeran were born and raised around weapons though, this came as no surprise. Koarhal's nearest arm moved as the Akalak's body rotated, the axe was used as a shield as he parried, colliding steel sword to steel axe. That was another jolt of power, thunder felt like it rattled the very bones in Koarhal's arm as he took a step back and, simultaneously, swung with his right hand once again, this time it was at Rhuryc rather than his shield. He had a feeling, and he hoped he was right, that he could catch the blow with his shield. If not then, well, Koarhal wasn't good enough to survive in Taldera Wilderness, fleeing wouldn't be an option.

[Rhuryc]

Slam! Rhuryc grunted as his sword was cast aside. His grip firmed about the hilt, the weapon drawn back to his side before he lost hold. Another strike. The wide, brazen assault from the axe came fast. With a shift, the man turned his torso into the strike, a foot lifting and carrying him closer under the Akalak's guard. He hoisted the shield and slammed it upward, the flat impacting the base of the strike and carrying through to throw his opponent off balance. Or at least try. Pushing himself in he ducked forward and lifted his knee, the motion brought up at his opponent's midsection. He did not stop there. Rearing back with his shield, Rhuryc drew his arm around and bashed the flat of the metal into the Akalak's side. Once. Twice. His motions were rampant, his body pressing ever forward into the violent foray. The blade, meanwhile, was kept low and out to the side - held back as if he was intentionally keeping it from the fight. As it was Rhuryc appeared to be intentionally missing opportunities, his attacks not committed fully to their destination.

[Azeran]

There was little more important than an Akalak's weaponry in combat. One thing that was, would be the Lakan, always important to him. Another would be his wife, should he have one rather than a Nakivak. The third were his hands, often more deadly than the weapons he carried, perhaps even the weapons that truly should have been feared. As his right arm struck out with the ax, which the human blocked fairly easily with his shield (Azeran was surprised to see he was this skilled), his left arm casually dropped the bladed large two-handed weapon to the side. With a powerful downward strike, Azeran hit Rhuryc's rising knee, forcing it to the side rather than meeting with Azeran's body. The second hand, also tossing the ax to the side, grabbed a hold of Rhuryc's shield, and was soon fortified with the other hand. With both of his hands locked on either side of teh shield, therefore keeping it from bashing relentlessly into his side, Azeran would pull it towards himself, expecting Rhuryc to pull back in attempt to reclaim the shield. Preparing for just an attack, Azeran would then push forward, stepping forward, putting all his might into just moving forward to make Rhuryc stumble and fall to the ground. Even his long legs reached out to swipe at Rhuryc's legs in attempt to drop him.

[Rhuryc]

Rhuryc grunted at the elbow digging into his knee. Owe. The impact set him off balance long enough to forget about the rest of his body. By the time he regained any semblance of awareness he felt the pressure on his shield arm, the violent, ripping motion of his opponent enough cause for concern. Yet the Akalak had disarmed himself. Strange. Without protest Rhuryc let the shield go. He slipped his arm through the holster and braced himself, the now available arm sweeping about and putting itself between the Akalak and human. He still very much had a sword. From what he could tell neither of the two were fighting for their life, nor was this a match for blood. Instead of utilizing the blade he let it drop, the metal sliding into the snow with a cushioned thud. As Azeran come forward Rhuryc moved. Simply, he got out of the way. A quick duck brought him from the path of his Akalak opponent, stepping out to the side and turning his torso away to reposition himself beside the man. He then dove back in. Spreading both arms out, he pushed off the ground and sent himself sailing into his opponent's side, hands coming from both front and back to wrap around the Akalak and, hopefully, take him down to the ground.

[Azeran]

Azeran tossed the shield to the side the moment Rhuryc released it. Turning quickly enough to follow Rhuryc's movements, but not quickly enough to set himself up to evade the man's charge into his legs. Azeran felt the human grab a hold of his waist and lower, and the Akalak responded by leaning over and wrapping his massive arms around Rhuryc's body. If Azeran was going to be taken down, he would still hold his enormous grip on the man. And Azeran did fall back. His center of gravity was throttled as the human plowed into him, his legs were grabbed as well, keeping him from restabilizing himself. The snow made for a softer impact, but his head fell backwards hard, hitting it against the axe he dropped moments ago. The blow to his head wasn't much, but it was enough to cut him open. Not a severe wound, but the back of his head was soaked before long. Now with the human on top of him, Azeran squirmed violently, his legs reaching under, finding a place to push Rhuryc back and away, but by now Azeran already knew he was cut. The snow was turning pink. Koarhal wasn't taking to kindly to the thought of being wounded by a mere man either. Azeran, or perhaps it was Koarhal now, stood up slowly, one hand was planted onto his head, covering the bleeding cut that hid beneath his short hair, the other reached down and picked up the axe he hurt himself on. There was a new look in his eyes, a crazed hungry look. Surely Rhuryc could understand that something vital had changed.