Boiling Over [Sama'el]

[Luke Lammergeier]

1st Day of Summer, 511 AV, Early morning Luke was starting to get frustrated. His days were filled with nothing but simple work and waiting around for the right time to leave this city. He hated even calling this place a city. It was just a vast collections of horse dung and tents. He had hoped to come to Endrykas as a simple stop in between the coast. He was even excited to meet the warriors he had always heard about in stories from Kain. After the initial shock of their horses and skill with a spear wore off. They were nothing more than filthy men on horse back. An extreme let down for Luke and it was starting to piss him off. Instead of leaving this pit. He simply festered in the nomad city. Cooking in his own sweat and anxiety. Luke was mainly nervous and impatient to find out about his brothers Vincent and Andrew. What had they been doing, where they well and safe? Kain in particular had been haunting his thoughts. Luke still couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal. The faint whisper of doubt in his mind that made his stomach turn. Shaking the thoughts out of his head, He focused on his main purpose, to find work. For him it wasn't enough to keep carting around barrels and crates for the horsemen. He was a swordsman by heart and needed work to suit that. Some Drykas that spoke common told him about the war pavilion to find work with a sword. Of course he never knew what these people really meant. They were so blunt it was hard to tell truth from being straight mocked. When he first reached the city, the looks he got were definitely odd. He dressed like a Syliran. All thick black tunic, cloak and riding pants. His facial hair stuck the people odd as well. The trip here took a lot out of him. Shaving was his last priority. So his beard grew in thick and black. Someone that spoke common finally explained how they thought facial hair was untidy and dirty. Ridiculous, this whole damn place was ridiculous. It wasn't a fucking city, their damn horses still smelled of shit no matter how special they were. The people were nothing special either, a bunch of cursed savages on horse back. Kain was spitting out horse shit when he told stories about these honorable warriors. Blunt and disrespectful wasn't honorable in his book. Luke stomped threw another set of large tents. Trying his hardest not to kick someone on his way. He was determined to find a job. A proper sell sword job, and soon. He rounded the corner and made his way threw dirty people and horses.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

When the stranger finally arrived at the War Pavilion, whether by chance or design, there was at least one Drykas warrior training by himself. Stripped to the waist, he was going through the motions of a fight against multiple opponents. One had to wonder whether it was a scripted sword dance or an improvisation of steel. His scimitar whipped around, turning in his hands over his head as he turned, sweeping down below the belt as he turned, arm extending, the arc of his blade fit to take out the knees of at least one or two people. He rose slowly, sword arm continuing with its momentum, but pulling it up over his head, and then he slowly drew his blade down before him in readiness, his off hand's palm pressed to the flat of the curved blade. Next came a series of short, hard strikes, two quick face thrusts from shoulder height at a high guard, and then three snaking down until an imaginary heart was impaled upon his blade. His style was circular for the most part, but when he stopped turning, he could still strike. His bare arms were not huge, but lithe and wiry with whipcord muscle over bone. Compact muscle, long bones, and by now he was gleaming with sweat, his skin going golden the more exposure it got to the sun. Inaril would say it was sloppy, but she was a perfectionist. So was he, in his way. At least, he would drill daily for as long as it took to be great, and then continue to drill so as not to lose his skills. Finally he walked over to where his scabbard and shirt lay in the grass, crouched down like a crow and slid his blade home. When he rose, shirt in hand, he made several funny little extensions of each muscle he could, working against being stiff and sore in the future. He worked out hard.[/indent]

[Luke Lammergeier]

When Luke turned the corner he was glad to see the war pavilion. It didn't have much more markings besides a basic sign, but he went with it. Even if it wasn't the place he could always get more directions. Before walking towards the tent. He took a moment to breath and calm down. He didn't want to run his mouth at a Drykas leader or he might have to pick up his teeth from the grass. Luke had a short temper but he wasn't stupid. Kain had taught him better than that. Luke practiced his breathing techniques that Kain taught him. Inhaling long and deep with closed eyes and focusing on anything but his anger. Focusing on idle things, his newly named horse Keetah for example. Her fine brown coat and black main. How he was starting to enjoy riding after all.... When he was finally calmed and in control he opened his eyes and caught the site of a young Drykas around his age. Tall, broad, tan, lean with muscle and holding a wicked curved piece of steel. The Drykas warrior was shirtless and swinging the blade in wide swift circles. It was something to behold, the sharp cuts and slashes. In a loose but obviously talented style, not very similar to the hack and slash way of a Longsword. He was content with simply watching at first. Hearing the strained grunts and sounds of steel cutting air. After a couple minutes he started to remember why he was here in the first place. He wanted action, he was tired of drilling by himself and facing no one but his mind. He wanted to go riding with the other warriors, or a partner to train with... So, Luke patiently waited for the man to finish. He was off to his left and mostly out of the other's site. This was good, not letting him know he was being watched the whole time. When the other man picked up his shirt and started to move and stretch, Luke walked to the man. Keeping his distance to be safe, not to weird the other out. “You're splendid with that blade Drykas. I was looking to go to the War Pavilion but...” Luke smiled and laid his hand casually on the pommel of his blade. “Practice with another swordsman would be more interesting.” His heart was pounding with excitement and he had to take a nervous breathe. The idea of the curved and straight blades striking one another. Each with their own style. It was more than enough to make his blood flow. “Sorry I forget my manners, my name is Luke Lammergeier, I'm from the north. I came here with Inaril.” He walked forward to shake the other mans hand. Hopefully things down south were still the same. He hadn't shaken a hand for a long time.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el blinked and wiped the sweat out of his eyes with the back of his hand. Exercise in the summer was hot work, especially when one was as driven to improve as he was. It wasn't unheard of to see strangers in Endrykas, but Sama'el didn't like being sneaked up on. It meant he wasn't paying close enough attention to his surroundings, and while he could say it was because he was safe in Endrykas, that wasn't really the point. He smiled, took a deep breath, and reached out to clasp the man's wrist, a more Drykas way of shaking. When he replied, he spoke in Common, his dialect more like that of Sunberth than a Pavi accent. "Sama'el," he said. "I report to Inaril. I've heard about you." He took another breath, trying to aerate his blood. "Sure, I'll fight you. Just let me..." He walked over to a horse trough and ducked his face into the water, drinking a bit to rehydrate as well. Not enough to sick his stomach, but enough that he wouldn't pass out. "I'm all right," he said when he walked back over. "Nothing special, but I'm working on it." He dropped his shirt, unsheathed his blade and dropped the curved scabbard on his discarded clothing. He held his blade low in a relaxed grip, swaying slightly from side to side as his hips shifted over his center of gravity. From here he could move in any direction, strike in any direction. But he was smiling, waiting. Luke had the advantage of being rested, but Sama'el had the advantage of a body already warmed up.

[Luke Lammergeier]

Luke smiled when he was clasped on the wrist instead of the hand. Not what he was used to, but It was a shake at least. As the other man talked about reporting to Inaril he felt a little jerk in his stomach. He remembered the fiasco of his trip here. Quickly he brushed aside the thoughts and hoped this man hadn't heard too much about him... The Drykas accepted his offer to fight, Luke was a little old to be so excited but he didn't care. He hadn't seen good company around these parts and you got to know a man well when you fought. Luke kept silent and let the other speak and breathe heavily. Watching him walk over and dunk his head into a water trough to cool off. It was still a little strange to see how comfortable these warriors were with their horses. Eating with them, drinking the same water and sleeping in the same tent. Luke was waiting til he finally saw someone fuck their horse. When he came back dripping with water he corrected Luke about his swordsmanship. He had to smile, it was his favorite quality about the Drykas. “Honesty about your own skills.” He said as he quickly pulled out his blade. “It's something I always liked about the Drykas. Never shy to admit the truth” Luke weighed the blade in his hand for a second. Felt the worn down leather grip. Stained dark with sweat and blood. He lowered the blade towards his opponent, legs spread out and in a slight crouch. Finding his own center of gravity and smiling himself. Luke made the first move, he always felt more comfortable on the offense. Testing out the opponents ability he lashed out with two quick shallow strikes coming from left to right. Luke didn't like wasting time and was eager to hear the sound of ringing steel.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Already limber and alert, Sama'el parried both testing, teasing strikes, his second parry swinging Luke's up over his head and down, but he balked from the flashy move of stepping upon the blade. It was dangerous for one thing, could damage the blade for another, and this wasn't a fight to the death. But even as he hop-stepped backward, scimitar coming up into a horizontal guard, he smiled. This was still serious. "I may not be Inaril, but I might still leave you bruised and crying on the ground," he said. He advanced immediately, though not too, too quickly, the tip of his blade extending as he came and working a tight figure eight as if to confuse Luke as to where he intended to strike, or even if he intended to strike. But Sama'el had been working hard for hours and he was conserving his strength, waiting for an opportunity to exploit. In the meantime, he would let Luke wear himself out some, or warm himself up some, with attacks that were easily blocked. He blocked another strike, then another, before he stepped back a few paces for a moment to breathe and a bit of perspective. When they closed again, he managed another parry, but only just, and as he twisted, his elbow flying toward Luke's head, he couldn't stop to wonder if it was wise to riposte that way with such a narrow escape from the last attack, but too much thinking slowed a man down in combat, and so if he did not land his elbow on Luke's person, he would just have to deal with that eventuality when it came.

[Luke Lammergeier]

Luke was a little more than surprised when he wasn't only parried but had his blade pinned to the ground by the end of the second stroke. He had his own smile when the Drykas stepped back and spoke. Inaril was indeed a powerful woman and if this man were even half the warrior then he may leave bruised and bloody. “That is precisely the plan!” Luke laughed and met the man's speed and strength as he came in for a second go. Not wanting to put any more effort than needed. The northerner was excited to have his blood pumping again. The threat and fear of sharp steel, the familiar fire in his belly. This... this was what he was made for. The flashy circles of the curved blade were quicker than he was used to. He shot his blade to the left and top meeting steel with each stroke. It was hard to keep the blade in one spot because of the curve but he kept pace. Tilting his blade a little to lessen the dents in his own sword. Quickly the warrior stepped back to catch a breath. Luke hung back catching his own breath. They were pretty well matched. He didn't know how to really fight such a quick strange blade. Before he could continue to think, he was rushed. A quick slash from underneath was cut aside by the Drykas warrior and then he quickly twisted around like a dancer. Sending a hard elbow into Luke's cheek bone. He could feel the skin split instantly and a blinding pain threw his head, but it didn't stop his reaction. He grabbed the mans shoulder, quickly before he could step away. Pivoted and sent his knee into the man's stomach. Making sure to keep his own blade far away from him. Before the man could recoil he shoved him away, raised his sword and roared with laughter. “That's what I'm talking about!” He didn't bother to wipe the blood off his cheek and simply held his guard. Waiting for his opponent to come.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

His flurry of successful parries and blocks had ended with that blow to Luke's face. It was rare he had to fight a person anymore; it seemed more often the threats faced were glassbeaks and other terrors of the Sea of Grass, but he sometimes dreamed of those dangers trapped in the bodies of men who came in the night. But he didn't have time to think now, but stumbled back, coughing and wheezing until he caught his breath back. There was a gleam of unshed tears in his eyes as he smiled ruefully, the wind only just coming back into him. With one last steadying breath, he went into a sword dance, a sinuous, swirling thing that was more of a dance with the blade than with Luke himself. But he approached his opponent, that curved blade singing through the air, his body ready to react to anything Luke sent his way, though the unpredictable movements of his own blade were sure to confuse him, at least for a little while. He many of the steps and flourishes to this dance, but their order always depended upon the flow of things, an improvisation upon themes already learned. Finally he let the momentum of his scimitar carry him out of the dance, the spin of the blade aimed for Luke's side, but the foreigner blocked it easily, forcing Sama'el back. What followed was a quick back and forth of attacks, parries, and feints, each trying to outwit the other, though they moved too fast to truly think. Once, twice, thrice Luke pushed him back with powerful blows barely turned aside, Sama'el's weariness really showing now. He gave a shout of frustration, but then leaped over a low sweep of Luke's sword, pulling his hips up with an acrobatic jerk that took him into a sort of cartwheel around the blade, his feet swinging up, and Luke would have to pull back, clumsily recovering from his sweep if he didn't want to get kicked in the face.

[Luke Lammergeier]

Luke was glad to see his plan working. The other having to stop and catch his breath heavily. Luke thought about striking again, remembering how Kain had taught him how to fight but decided against it and simply waited for the man. Shifting his feet, too pumped up to keep still. He hadn't felt this alive in a long time. When the warrior smiled he knew it was time to start again. He shifted quickly between feet and prepared to lunge forward. Thankfully he was taught the importance of patient in any fight. The Drykas sent a flurry of graceful, quick and furious slashes towards Luke. It almost looked as if he was fighting 5 opponents at once. Luke quickly stepped away and countered as many blows as he could. The strikes were quick and when he parried. It seemed another would come from its shadow. Not wanting to waste energy he decided to simply be driven back and dodge the blows. When the opponents were done dancing and the quick slash came for Luke's stomach, he was prepared. The strike was pushed away a little too easily in his opinion. The opponent was loosing steam and it showed. Luke couldn't blame him though. This blistering heat and training all day probably. It was surprising he was still so focused. At first he was disappointed the fight would end so soon, but not for long. The two men started exchanging back and force blows that proved this man was going the mile. Luke circled around the other man. Their steel ringing out sharp and cruel. Seeing the other man's weariness and Luke decided to exploit. Bringing his sword down hard from up top. Making sure each blow vibrated deeply in his arms. Another strike aimed for the shoulder and then to the waist. The last blow got a shout from the Drykas. Luke was gaining good ground and sent a final low sweep of the legs. Trying to tire the man into quitting. Sure enough the warrior jumped up, using even more of his strength. Luke would of smiled but a swift acrobatic jerk mid air. Sent the mans foot flying straight into his face. It was so quick and unexpected that he would have been hard pressed to avoid it. It was An unconventional but true blow. It crashed into Luke's ear with a horse's force behind it. Knocked aside he stumbled heavily onto his knees. A loud and violent ringing in his head. Vertigo set in as his vision blurred and faded in and out slowly. The yellow and green grass he was kneeling on melted with the white tents and blue sky. For a moment he couldn't think of anything other than breathing, as his mind wildly attempted to reconnect itself. Before he could see straight Luke was clumsily getting to his feet. Using his sword as leverage, with a never say die attitude. He was persistent even when senseless. By the time he was on his feet again, his eye sight was clearing and the dizziness dissipating. “Good one.” He chuckled and held up his guard. A little more feebly this time but with the same determination. “You Drykas don't disappoint.” His grin was wide and surprisingly, still contained all his teeth. He almost felt the imprint of the mans boots. If he even was wearing boots. He couldn't quiet remember.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el couldn't believe his luck when his boot struck home, and he was glad that Lammergeier appeared disoriented so he could not see the sloppy landing that nearly earned him a sprained ankle despite the support of his boots. He remained crouched down low, guard held in front of his eyes in case the man was feigning the severity of his dizziness. "Lucky," was all he said in response to the compliment, smiling wolfishly. He seemed to be talking about his hit, but one never knew with the Drykas. He might have been calling Luke lucky for not getting his jaw broken. With an audible grunt, he rose to his feet again, backing a way a little, scimitar at the ready. He wasn't sure quite how far this was supposed to go, but he didn't have enough energy in him for any more tricks like that. All he really wanted to do now was fall into a lake, but there was no such water here. What remained to them was for drinking. "I'm tired," he said, though it was not an admission of defeat. "If we don't call a draw, one or both of us are likely to be hurt. But if you want to risk it," he said, turning the hilt around in his hands so the sword arced around in a circle, "I'm game."