Completed To Seek And To Strive (Kisetukai, Ethen)

[Razkar]

86th Day of Spring
Anthonius Fighter's Pit
11th Bell

Things were progressing as they should, in Razkar's opinion, but he still had more free time on his hands than he knew what to do with.

Coin was in his pocket and an employer had been gained, but the former would be supped away by the demands of life and the latter... well, one of the problems with being muscle is that you're inactive until your master decides to flex you. Razkar's had not decided to do so yet.

Unused to such lethargy, the Myrian found himself walking back to the dilapidated but still busy business that was the Fighter's Pit, five days after he'd first stepped foot within its walls. Faces turned to him in recognition now, tinged with a certain, grudging respect. Ah, the word had got around and apparently made some new friends along the way. Even the bearded human - Gerard, if he remembered correctly - gave him a solemn nod as he entered, making a beeline for the weapon-strewn savage as he walked to the bench lined with practice weapons.

"Back to our little slice of Kell'alor, eh?"

Razkar cocked his head to one side. "What is that?"

"Kinda like a warrior heaven," Gerard said with a shrug, "Old Kalean superstition, I think."

Razkar took a quick look around at the half-rusted training tools and the faded dummies, the brawlers and pugs and mercenaries past their prime under the hole-ridden roof, and refrained from saying he hoped the divine was more impressive. Instead he just nodded slowly.

"I have time. Come to practice."

"Well, you'll either find plenty of challengers... or none," the human said with a crooked smile, "After that display a few days ago, you kind of put yourself out there."

The Myrian allowed himself a tiny smile, running his finger along the edge of a practice gladius, so worn that even with pressure on it there was naught but a tiny bite to its blade.

"That was idea."

Gerard paused, as if something else was lurking just beyond his lips but he couldn't quite frame it. After a few moments Razkar turned to him, head cocked again as if trying to coax him... but it came to nothing. The human scratched under his chin and nodded sharply.

"Got some business. But when I'm done and you want a challenge, come find me."

"Thank you."

The human fighter/gambler/businessman trotted off and left Razkar with his eyebrow raised. Well, that was something at least, but as he looked around at the Pits he saw no challengers eyeing him up, swaggering over or showing off in front of him. Perhaps they expected him to challenge them?

Razkar snorted and laid his true weapons down on a bench, covering them from the sun and inquisitive eyes with his cloak. He was clad solely in his loincloth and sandals now, disdaining breeches in the face of the rising humidity, modesty of these barbarians be damned. He wasn't going to boil and sweat just because the sight of extra thigh was scandalous to them.

Prudish barbarians...

The day was but young and he had time to kill. Razkar chose his weapons carefully. A training gladius, training ax and a kukri-like weapon, blunt and banged into a shape similar to the one he had strapped to his chest. He whipped them through the air until his hands and muscles reached and accord... and then he sat in the shade.

No rush, a voice told him pleasantly, smiling slightly at the irony of his thoughts, always some young buck looking for an education... one way or another...

Something occurred to him. For a moment it smacked of the bravado that black human had displayed a handful of days before, but the more the image struck him... the more the smile on his face spread.

There was careful, practiced movement from those dark hands. The scratch and hiss of a precious mach (reminding him he'd need more). Then the rambling fighters and bored sellswords were treated to a strange sight in Gerard's yard.

A Myrian in the shade with a pipe between his teeth, curing smoke and the scent of Taloba grey snaking from his mouth, waiting patiently, for whom they did not know...

OOCAlright. Kise, whenever you're ready. Ethen, you can come in right away or you can hang back for a few posts.

[Kisetukai]

A fresh new day, a bright new day, a new day it was. This is all that kept riding through Kise's head, the young boy had been stepping up his training lately and had chose to do whatever it took. Even K agreed that it was important, especially because of their recent defeat, receive from Razkar. Razkar, of the shorn skulls was it, and odd fellow. He talked as if uncivilized, he walked as if carefree, he fought as if every battle was.. War. Of course Kise had only seen one battle, but it was no doubt a horrible one, and not one he would soon forget. He could've had done a lot of things to ease his mind, he could've let K go smoke it off, but he didn't. He just thought about it, over and over, what Razkar had done to him.

It was a horrible loss, for a horrible day, all because of K's cockiness. But it was his fault also. It was Kise's fault for not being strong enough, it was Kise's fault for not being a real fighter, it was Kise's fault for... Not winning. He was destroyed on the inside, and he needed to do whatever he could to get his honor back, for he never wanted to taste defeat. He never wanted to experience the pain of losing another fight again, it broke and shattered his mentality, and all he could think about was losing. He wasn't embarrassed, ashamed by the crowd, he wasn't even angry about the loss of his precious blood. The only thing that mattered was that he loss, fair and square to the better fighter, he loss to the real warrior.

He he sat, in the stands, watching the common men fight. He didn't consider them common, or even lower than him, but he was starting to. Just like K, his emotions were starting to bleed into the next persona, and now Kise was a fighter. A hardcore fighter, who had evolved from a friendly young nice boy, to one who loved to punch things. But that was what got him beat, he realized how long it had been since he trained, and how weak he trained. Yes he couldn't beat Ser Corben, but he definitely could beat any common willed man who was a streetfighter, so why couldn't he beat the myrian. Why couldn't he beat the outsider? Why did the crowd cheer to see one of their own pummeled and destroyed?

Again, here he sat, watching the common men in disguise. His black cloak covering his body, the black hood atop his head. A simple t shirt of smoke black on his shirt, black cargo shorts, with leather gloves on. Low top black shoes, tight and firm but light and quick. He sat here in disguise, watching the men train, itching for a fight. He wanted to prove to himself that he wasn't weak, but he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to harm innocent men for his own loss, it just wasn't right, it wasn't how a knight would do it. He absorbed his own pride, leaked it out, and rebirthed the cycle all over again.

Watching the men train, some simple men talk on the stands, it became a bore. It became a very quick bore, turning his head he easily saw Gerard leaving, the overseer of the joint. He would've said high but he was in disguise, and he didn't want to blow it, he didn't want to be confronted by men who bore questions. How does it feel to lose tough guy? You want a rematch? Are you gonna get him back? He was asked questions liked these shortly after he went home, and those questions fired him up, they almost caused him to go overboard. It was clearly the voice itself whispering in his ear, tempting him to do bad things, trying to send him into a chaotic rage. But Kise was too strong willed for such frivolous actions, something a future knight would definitely possess, will power and a strong mind.

Kise was just about to get up when he saw him, Razkar, the only other myrian he ever saw in his life. The tattoos, the piercings, the aura of victory. Razkar always held a face that showed he was a winner, well at least in Kise's eyes and he definitely wanted to learn more about this one. Quickly, he stood up and effortlessly sweeper over the wall, plopping down with a hard thud. The ache in his feet didn't even register in his mind as he kept his eyes on Razkar, he just kept walking forward from across the area, he had a goal. Finally making it up to him, he spoke and walked, until he was about three feet away from the man. Clearly Razkar was relaxing, but being here again showed he wanted more, apparently battling was his life unless he had a life out of it. "Razkar of the shorn skulls." Kise said firmly, his voice deep with bass but still a bit lifted due to his age. "I have come to talk to you..." He swiftly lifted his hood, not hoping to create a scene but it seemed only a couple people would notice his face. "Razkar, you remember me don't you. From a few days ago, we had a fight on these very grounds. You beat me that day, and you sent me into rage, but I learned something. I learned a lot of things actually and you opened my eyes, you made me question myself as a fighter, you have made me think."

Letting out a sigh he folded his arms, staring at the man with a straight face, showing him he was serious. "Razkar... You beat me that day because you were the better fighter. You were a warrior. You fought for someone. You fought for something. And I fought for none of that... I had lost my way as a warrior... So what I am here to ask you is...." He looked away for a moment, reconciling his actions and choice of words, then back at Razkar straight in the eyes. "Thank you for showing me my will and fighting spirit, would you please forgive my actions... I know I'm not as good as a fighter as you are yet but, if I want to protect this..." Kise turned and gestured his city, then faced forward once more. "I'm gonna need all the practice I can get ya know?" He let loose a smile as he turned, and placed back on his hood, he had accomplished his mission and was ready to train. "Well, thank you again Razkar, thanks a lot." Kise said as he began to walk off, quickly stopping and walking back up to Razkar.

"Wait... That day you beat me, you made a joke about training me sometime.. You don't think that... Nah nevermind I..." Letting out one more sigh, he asked the man clearly but in a questionable voice. "Razkar, would you mind training me today? You beat me so you must know what I'm doing wrong, so please teach me how to fight... Better. Teach me what you know and can please! I'm eager to learn all that I can to become stronger... So what do ya say?" Another goofy chuckle flying out of the kids mouth, he couldn't believe he had said that all. Well it was out now.

[Razkar]

Razkar let loose another languid stream of smoke from his lips and lamented this would be perhaps his last full pipe for some time. Unless they had Taloba Grey in this barbarian citadel... which, he supposed, was possible. He had heard much of this grant market called "bizarre", though why it was named as something strange he had no idea.

A shadow fell across him and black eyes slid over to the figure standing there. Hooded and shrouded in black, he cut an impressive silhouette and the Myrian waited patiently, then frowned as a familiar voice rumbled... or tried to.

"Razkar of the Shorn skulls. I have come to talk to you..."

Well, petch me running...

The hood came down and a black face he knew right away was revealed, though much of the arrogance that had radiated so harshly from him was now gone. Razkar's eyes widened briefly, still veiled a little by the smoke.

"Razkar, you remember me don't you. From a few days ago, we had a fight on these very grounds. You beat me that day, and you sent me into rage, but I learned something. I learned a lot of things actually and you opened my eyes, you made me question myself as a fighter, you have made me think."

Well, it wasn't completely wasted, then.

"Razkar... You beat me that day because you were the better fighter. You were a warrior. You fought for someone. You fought for something. And I fought for none of that... I had lost my way as a warrior... So what I am here to ask you is...."

The words kept pouring out, on and on, and finally Razkar's face sank into a neutral sort of aimlessness. His eyes stayed fixed and his ears still heard, but he doubted the boy would say anything more than would interest him. He supposed the barbarians here would have thought that rude, even heartless.

He also supposed they had no idea how things worked where he came from.

Finally the words ended and with a short bow the human turned away, apparently spent and finished. Razkar watched him turn and his expression had not changed since the boy had revealed himself. He turned back to his view of the pits, amused a little by the human, and... well, yes, impressed, to a degree. Many males much older than he wouldn't have had the strength to-

"Wait...

Oh, for the love of the Goddess!

That day you beat me, you made a joke about training me sometime.. You don't think that... Nah nevermind I... Razkar, would you mind training me today? You beat me so you must know what I'm doing wrong, so please teach me how to fight... Better. Teach me what you know and can please! I'm eager to learn all that I can to become stronger... So what do ya say?"

Razkar's eyes swung round to Kisetukai a second time, only now there was a very different gleam to them. Acquisitive, in fact, much as he was uncomfortable admitting it. His people were trained from a young age to eschew the barbarian lust for gold and trinkets, but now he was among them, he understood that they were the basis for every service and advantage.

Well, not completely accurate. Your talent is the basis. The gold is the result... or one of them.

But, as fast as he was hoping, the realization that he had a chance to net a few coins was eclipsed by a greater, older one: Razkar had another chance to teach, to train, and spar. The human had passion and strength, the speed and resilience of youth. All fine things but like all good materials, they needed molding. So...

Razkar finally took the pipe from his lips and spoke for the first time, slowly and carefully.

"Ten gold mizas." The human blinked as if confused, and Razkar's low chuckle sent little clouds of spicy Taloba Grey gusting towards him. "Ah. Think all Myrian fight just to fight, yes? Maybe in jungle. But here, food and bed not free. And I am sellsword-" he patted his cloak plethora of blades hidden under it fondly "-not givesword. Want train? I train. But I not train for nothing."

Now that was out the way and the human had something to chew on for a few moments, Razkar leaned forward, eagerness and interest etched in the simple movement.

"If price is good, tell me: what you want to train? With weapon or not weapon, like when you fight me before?"

[Kisetukai]

The ten gold mizas sent him back a bit, Kise blinked a couple confusion filled blinks and looked at him with total blankness. Money? He wanted money? So he is a hired man, understandable. Kise smiled at this and reached into his pocket, pulling out eight golden mizas, two in between each webbings of his hands. Placing them in his left he repeated the process, until he held sixteen in his left, then did it once more and held twenty. He held it out and waited for Razkar to hold out his hand, once he did he would drop it quickly and begin to explain. "Look here Razkar, you've got a lot to teach me and that doesn't come cheap. I always roll with twenty mizas, and I'm financially blessed so that's good for you right now, you deserve it. Me and you, friends." Kise chuckled, seeing to it that Razkar's barbaric accent was rubbing off on him.

"Now as to what I would like to learn? I don't want weapon, I want you to teach me all that you can about fighting. I want to know what I was doing wrong. I want to know how I can be a better fighter unarmed, show ms how you got around me and beat me. Show me where I need to improve and help me... But first.." He let out a sigh, seeing that he was a bit too excited. "Let's meet each other the right way... I'm Kisetukai Yamehaka... Squire and future knight, and I see your from out of town but I already know of you. Razkar of the shorn skulls, from Taloba right? That's where your people hail?" A small chuckle awarded Kise, seeing that he remembered what he had learned. "So, Razkar, tell me about yourself? Any battle stories? Why and where did you get those tattoos and piercings? Favorite weapon? What is your home like.. And you have a queen right? I remember you saying something like that when you fought me? Care to elaborate?" Kise walked over to the bench and sat down, ready to listen and learn some teachings, this would only add greatly to his lifetime philosophy.

Shorn skulls huh... Wonder why they call him that...

[Razkar]

Razkar's eyebrows quirked with amusement as the human did his little trick with the coins, knuckles gleaming gold in the sunlight as he counted out... far more than ten.

Boy's serious. Or foolish. Either way, you get paid.

"Look here Razkar, you've got a lot to teach me and that doesn't come cheap. I always roll with twenty mizas, and I'm financially blessed so that's good for you right now, you deserve it. Me and you, friends."

Razkar cocked his head, a tic that Kisetukai was fast becoming familiar with, and he smiled as his hand reached out to take the coin... then squeezed the humans hand tightly. But it was not a common handshake or the warrior exchange of the Knights.

When Kisetukai looked up, surprised, into those dark eyes, he saw that it was a warning.

"Good lesson to learn, boy," Razkar said, inhuman (literally) grip holding firm, "Not try to buy you friend. I am teacher. You are student. That is good, and now have paid much, will get good lesson. But not friend." He pocketed the gold and ignored the boy's crestfallen features. He had to learn the harshness of the world some day, after all. "Not yet."

As the Myrian half-expected, the boy rallied magnificently, enthusiasm and sickeningly infectious drive to better himself overwhelming his partial disappointment. He rose to his feet, happy to find no stiffness in them despite his relaxation, shaking his head twice, quickly, dispelling the shroud of Taloba Grey that had lain behind his eyes.

To business, after all.

"Now as to what I would like to learn? I don't want weapon, I want you to teach me all that you can about fighting. I want to know what I was doing wrong. I want to know how I can be a better fighter unarmed, show ms how you got around me and beat me. Show me where I need to improve and help me... But first..."

"Peace, peace," Razkar put his hand up and Goddess help him, he actually smiled. Was he ever so full of energy? If so, he did not remember, and gods, it was not long ago he was this boy, or at least his age. "Plenty of time for all, but only one day. Though... you pay, so you get much today."

"Let's meet each other the right way... I'm Kisetukai Yamehaka... Squire and future knight, and I see your from out of town but I already know of you. Razkar of the shorn skulls, from Taloba right? That's where your people hail?"

Razkar nodded and chuckled. Another incomprehensible barbarian name, he thought. How did these people carry on conversations, and what made rites or rituals surrounded the naming of babes? But the boy was showing his respect, and he saw reason not to do the same.

"Not from Taloba," he still felt the need to correct him, however, "From jungle to the west of Sacred City. My clan has live in jungle there for... Goddess, now even know. Since before Great Disaster, hundreds of years ago."

"So, Razkar, tell me about yourself? Any battle stories? Why and where did you get those tattoos and piercings? Favorite weapon? What is your home like.. And you have a queen right? I remember you saying something like that when you fought me? Care to elaborate?"

Yet more questions, more words, spilling out in an endless stream and though his tone grated, Razkar found himself warming to the human. He reminded him of his lover Ayatah, only less composed and, well, male. The questions battered at him like body blows and he had to frown to keep up... and then frowned deeper when the boy sat on he bench.

"You will learn..." he said, walking over and hauling the boy to his feet "... as I teach. You say you not want weapon? That is fine."

He led the both of them over to the weapon racks and found a faded, rusted set of gauntlets. The Myrin snorted and tossed them to the human, not stopping to see if he caught them before walking swiftly over to the nearest empty pit.

"Not as shiny as yours, but good for train." Razkar bent down and stuck all three of his training weapons in the sand, then jumped down into the pit without a word, calling upwards. "Come! We start!"

He circled, stretching, pulling at sore or ill-used muscles, limbering for the exertion to come. A thump told him that Kisetukai had joined him, and Razkar spoke as he moved.

"You ask many question. Too many. Mind must be focused in battle. But you want to learn? Fine. Know that learn has price." He cracked his knuckles without wincing and turned to the waiting boy, disrobing as well. "Things you want to learn of me? Not tell you all. Never tell anyone all. They learn all of you, then know how to beat you. But I still tell some."

Razkar frowned, though the movement seemed... forced. Perhaps faked? He strolled in a circle, steadily tightening towards the boy.

"Battles... Battles... Ah! I tell one. About Dhani in jungle-"

And with that, he moved like the snake-beast he just mentioned. He spun and bent aiming a blow low at the human's stomach with his right fist. The boy wasn't expecting it but Kise reacted more on instinct, boxer's training kicking in to sidestep away from it, full-on punch become a glancing blow-

-retaliating with a right cross to the Myrian's head-

-knocked away by Razkar's left forearm, deflected outwards, leaving his chest open-

-as he burst forwards and slammed the knife edge of his left hand into the side of Kise's neck.

The boy staggered back, neck bent at an odd and painful angle, but kept his guard up, grimacing through the pain... and staying on his feet. Razkar nodded his approval as they circled again.

"First lesson: always expect enemy to attack. He talk, so not going to attack? Shyke. Enemy will try and trick, try and make you think at ease, even friend. Not be fooled. May be... ah... phar-noid? Is right word? Well, let people call phar-noid? They die. You live, and-"

He darted forwards again, cocking back his right but aiming a quick left kick at the boy's crotch-

-only for Kise to slide away to his side before his kick could even come close to connecting. He'd been ready for it-

-sweeping down with his ancient training gauntlet to deliver a short, sharp punch onto Razkar's exposed shin. The Myrian grunted his surprise and reluctant approval. Not bad, but he knew the boy had training as a boxer.

Have to break him out of that chivalry shyke, though.

"Good." He smiled briefly, masking the twinging pain in his leg, and rolled his shoulders. "Any time enemy strikes, he expose what he use to strike. Arm, leg, head, feet... not matter. Good to block. Good to avoid. But better? Avoid, block and strike back."

Razkar charged forward, zigzagging left and right, arms both cocked back and delivering a quick flurry of bunches, battering ineffectually against Kise's arms as they were raised in a guard, knees bent-

-then exploding upwards diagonally, legs catapulting him up, one leg jerking upwards-

-slamming into Kise's forearms and knocking him back into the wall with the impact.

"Come on! Not let enemy do all attack, or enemy kill you!"

Reciept:Training Fee: 20gm.00sm.00cm

[Isolde Seibold]

Isolde had never seen a person like the one she now saw. He was terrifying. This place was terrifying. She honestly didn't know what she was doing here, now that she found herself trembling in the stands. Isolde had thought, after meeting Fallon in the Temple, that she had been ready to start again. Start doing things. Start training her mind. And she had begun to think, after a few days... perhaps, too, her body could stand to be trained, used. Now she saw that she had most likely made a rather big error.

The whole idea was ridiculous, of course. She didn't know what she was thinking. Being a Nuit, she should have immediately discarded the notion. Nuits were sluggish by nature. She didn't have a warrior's reflexes, she was weak and small, and that was the way it was always going to be-- well, except for the small part. That could change with each passing body, each passing year, but the others-- those were Nuit frailties. Those were the reasons she couldn't swim, the reasons she so feared offending anyone, and she was sure if she gave herself time to think, the list would go on and on. She was just not made to fight, and for a long, long time she had been fine with that. She was something, even, of a pacifist. Just being in this place, this 'Fighter's Pit'... it was gruesome to her. It affronted her, her senses, her sensibilities. She had seen plenty of scuffling in her time, how could she have not? But she had not taken part. And she had never, never thought that she could stomach doing so.

Coming here --what a silly idea!-- really made her see that she was too... weak, too... breakable for this sort of thing.

Still, the unused dagger sat heavy on her lap, the silver worked into the wooden handle gleaming in the bright sun. If only she knew how to use it, she would feel at least a bit safer. A bit more protected in this great city, because sometimes she wondered if the Knights would bother to come to her aid, should the need arise. She wouldn't blame them for not. She couldn't blame others for wanting to be rid of her.

But she also didn't want to lose it all. Her life, this false-life... it was precious to her. This false-life had been a chance given to her, and had resulted in a great and everlasting debt, furnished by a need to survive and remain. She owed it to her daughter to keep on going, to all the others whose bodies she had unrightfully snatched, and it weighed heavily on her. She needed to find a way to make her existence bearable, and part of that would be to make it so she wasn't so petching afraid of everyone all the time. The fear was really wearing her down. The dagger, if only she could swing the damn thing --or did one stab with daggers?-- might make her feel better, despite her squeamishness for violence. Just knowing that she might be able to defend herself would ease her troubles. And it was like Fallon had said. It was better to do something than nothing. Better to stand, to fight to survive, than sit idly by.

The problem was, she felt she was in the wrong place. Peering out from the shadows of her hood, leaning a bit against the railing at the front of the stands and looking down at those sparring below... yes, this must be the wrong place. Certainly there was someplace... less brusque, for her to figure out how to use the thing.

And the men that were here. Absolutely terrifying. The tall, young man with the dark skin and expectant, determined expression, looking as if he had recently seen a few fights, he was bad enough. But that other one. That even taller one, his bronzed skin, tattoos, piercings... his presence. He seemed to pound the breath from her lungs without even touching her. And being in proximity to those types... the warrior, fighting, scratching-clawing-biting types, was unnerving. If one of those took offense to her presence here... it was all over. She was done for. She couldn't hope to stand against one of them. Even with a pocket full of flour for a distraction.

She just hoped she blended into the stands. Her eyes remained on the two great figures, either of which would tower over her, and her mouth twisted as they swiped at one another with fists and feet. One of them managed a sudden, jerking chop into the other's neck. She flinched, even so far away, at the speed and brutishness. Nope, that was it. She couldn't handle this. She didn't like people bruising each other. She had come to the wrong place. She was nearly trembling with nerves. She needed to get out of here before someone spotted her.

The Nuit stood, and the dagger tumbled from her lap. She reacted belatedly, snatching for it, grabbing at it too late with surprised fingers. Her body just did not have the reaction time. The well-worn handle --not from her own hands, but from some unknown else's-- bounced woodenly against the floor, then plummeted, to her dismay, into the ring. There was no one in proximity to hand it to her, and from a quick glance around it seemed --and she kind of hoped it stayed this way-- that nobody had noticed her fumble. The only problem was... how would she get it back? She'd seen the others simply jump onto the packed earth below, but she definitely couldn't manage that without damaging herself. For a moment she almost considered leaving it, and fleeing. Let someone else make use of it! And then she shook her head, puffing out a breath, and leaned over the railing, wetting her lips with her black tongue, thinking to herself that there must be a way to get down to the pit without having to jump. And hopefully once she was in the pit no one would think she was wanting to fight... With her demeanor, the way she stuck out here even more than everywhere else, probably none of them would make the mistake.

Petch, she couldn't believe that she had managed to drop her dagger, and all the way down there, too. She couldn't even hold onto it, how could she even dream that she could someday use it effectively! One thing was for sure; she was stuck here for a while. Looking like she really didn't want to, the Nuit sat back down, at the edge of her seat. She wasn't going to brave heading into the ring until it cleared out a little. She could only hope that nobody would notice the dagger and try to take it for themselves before she could get to it. Her eyes refocused on the sparring pair, dancing back and forth, and she felt her fingers begin to tap-tap-tap, a nervous gesture.

[Razkar]

Razkar braced himself for Kise's counterattack but a silver bird dropped between them and ruined the moment. Razkar's eye snapped down in confusion and found the bird was, in fact, a glistening dagger.

Human and Myrian jerked their heads up, brows furrowed, and saw the wide-eyed, hooded figure standing over their pit. Razkar blinked as he heard a little squeak of surprise, one hand flitting up to tug the hood tighter around her features. He frowned deeper... peering... studying...

Smudges under her eyes, by the look of it, like sloppy makeup or days upon days went without sleep. Frightened, wide eyes... and Razkar was stunned to find that such instinctive fear of him did not boost his ego like he expected. Pale skin... deathly pale...

Some small voice clamored for his attention, but as largely ignored. It was barely half a memory, when their instructors in Taloba had told the recruits to be wary for a race of barbarians called... damn... something with an "N". They were more demon than mortal, the instructors said, stealing bodies and passing their twisted souls from victim to victim, living forever on the lives of others.

Razkar didn't see that in her, or hear the voice. He saw a frightened female, and that irked him.

"Keep better hold of blade!" He shouted up, small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. The Myrian bent down and picked up the dagger, gripping it with his four fingers firm around the hilt and his thumb wrapped around with them, touching his forefinger. He held it up so she could see how he was holding it. "See? Much better!"

There was a twist and a flick and the blade was flipped over in his callused hand, Myrian catching it by the blade and tossing it lightly upwards... arcing out the crumbling pit... and landing a few feet away from the female. Razkar nodded shortly at her, respectful to females out of instinct, and turned back to the human.

"Sometimes," he said as the dark-skinned human settled back into his boxer's stance, guard up and knees bent, Razkar mirroring him only with his hands wider, "I give free. But only one for each..."

[Kisetukai]

Razkar had been showing Kise enough already, it felt a bit odd to be fighting in his cloak on, the small chain hugging his neck instead of the common man's string. He observed all of Razkar's movements, for he was his teacher, although he made it clear he didn't want to be friends. He was just getting ready to fly in until Razkar, stopped, a silver shiny blur dividing them. Kise jumped back instinctively, his boxing mentality shaking him, he quickly watched Razkar's reaction. Then they both stared at the same figure, some woman who looked seriously sleep deprived, obviously it was good K was not in control or he would've insulted the woman somehow.

She looked as if she hadn't eaten in a while, as if she wasn't really the most athletic, special, or standout person in the world. Obviously, her goal in life seemed to be blending in the crowd of nobodies but that dagger showed that wasn't going to happen. Kise stopped looking as Razkar returned to him, instantly forcing him to put up his fist and stance, he watched as Razkar did the same just a bit less... Boxer-ish. "Hey... Razkar. I learn better when fighting with my fist... So I want you to tell me, does a fighter fight with honor? Or respect?" Kise said happily, his ego changing to a real fighting mood. Sliding in he left his left hand in front of his face for a block, his right swinging wide at the myrian's head. Crouching, he popped up with another hook, except on the left side this time. Then a long right straight, he thought he had Razkar, so he over threw it and put his whole body into the punch. Big mistake?

He prepared himself for another flip.

[Razkar]

"Hey... Razkar. I learn better when fighting with my fist... So I want you to tell me, does a fighter fight with honor? Or respect?"

Razkar cocked an eyebrow in something between amusement and confusion, but had no time to answer before that big fist started swinging. Clad in those old but still heavy gauntlets, it shot out towards his head but the human's shoulders have him away, dropping down a fraction before he let loose-

-giving the Myrian a moment to say back, big punch missing him completely.

"Honor or respect?" He shook his head firmly. "Neither."

Kisetuaki's left came out in a quick jab, experimental but shorter than the right and thus harder to react to. The Myrian's forearm jerked out and knocked it away from him, metal fist making him wince as he did so, knowing that it was but the preamble-

-to the blow it was masking, coming behind it, a big swinging right-

Too confident.

The human twisted and turned as he gave the punch his all, arm out, determined to take the Myrian's head off-

-only for Razkar to step forward, into the punch, left arm shooting out, forearm vertical and smacking into the crook of Kisetukai's swinging right arm-

-stopping the punch dead, bringing him close-

-slamming his forehead into the boy's nose-

-and bringing his knee up into his crotch a moment later.

The twin blows blinded Kisetukai and shattered his balance both, sending him staggering back a few steps before his pelvis finally gave out and he went down to one knee. Razkar's eyebrows shot up when he saw that despite the agony, his left was still up, guarding his face... but then he shook his head.

"Both thing, respect and honor, limit man in fight. In battle. If want fight with them, fight in boxing ring, where not matter."

He stalked over to the human and stopped a few feet away, letting Kisetukai decide if he wanted to be brave or foolish enough to try and hit him again.

"I teach you to kill. To fight in battle. There, only honor is to live, and kill enemy. Only respect is for you. Want to respect enemy? Respect out of fight. Only respect you give enemy in battle-" he held up his fists "-is you blade."

The Myrian gestured to the kneeling human with blood pouring from his nose, voice oddly conversational as he circled him.

"Look at you. Try to fight like boxer. With arms and punch. Fight with honor. I did not, and how did fight go? Did honor and respect matter? No. And if this was real battle, I would have taken you scalp and heart by now."

Razkar shook his head and extended a hand to his student.

"Does a fighter fight with honor or respect? No. He does not." He spoke clearly now, impressed that frequent practice was definitely improving his Common. "He fight to win. All other thing not matter."

Once Kisetukai was back up and slipped shakily back into his boxer's stance, Razkar appraised him and patted his own leg.

"Learn to use these when in close. Especially knee." He demonstrated a few times, bringing his knee jerking up hard. "Into crotch or thigh, or chest if enemy is trying to bring you down-" that time he smiled, remembering it was exactly what the human had tried to do to him last time they fought... and knowing the human would remember, too. Bigger than fist, and harder."

Razkar sighed and came in again, fingers twitching.

"Have to break this boxer mind you have, boy. Or find way to make it better for real fight."

He struck out again, starting with a low kick to Kise's shin, but the boy was learning, sliding back his foot and avoiding the blow, replying with a jab from his right-

-shorter, no sign-

-and Razkar barely avoided it as he swayed back.

"One more thing. When you make big punch, don't drop shoulder. Tell enemy you about to punch. Keep punch short. Less sign. Now... attack."

[Ethen Calden]

Ethen was in love with the fighter's pit, the smell of sweat and blood to some was unpleasant. To Ethen was the smell of a win or lost of a true warrior. When heard of a warrior from the far west. Ethen was over excited of the arrival and sneak out of his parents house and came to the fighter's pit. When Ethen got there he was to his surpise an young man came along once before in the grand bazaar with the name of Kisetukai, which called himself Kise. To Ethen, Kise seem to be sparring with a man that look none of the locals or any visitor of the city that he ever met.

The man had dark long hair and black eyes, had dirt ridden skin with never ending tattoos and bedecked with piercings on his face. Kise seem different than the man that he met once before. When Ethen heard the offering of a expense for training. Ethen couldn't pay the foreign man any money since Ethen had none.

Ethen came up with a plan to hide behind the cover of the bleachers in case the two sparring partners discover a follow warrior that getting free tutoring. Wittnessing the epic fight between the two guys. Ethen was astound by the sparring. "The weird man is reading and countering with movement with ease. While Kise might been cocky and arrogant. Kise could still hold his own against the powerful warrior" thought Ethen as he absorbed each movement of the spar. Suddenly Ethen feel a cold wind. Which weird since it was warm day. With trying to figure what was wrong Ethen forgot the weight of himself and his greatsword on a piece of rotted wooden timber that Ethen give way and fallen down into the pit and onto the dusty ground with a loud thud.

OCC :

Sorry that my post is late and much much shorter then your own posts but to me this is the longest I done and if did any thing wrong just PM me