3rd Day of Fall, 509 A.V.
The Knights of Syliras had many programs to combat the poor within the city. One particular was a food booth to provide for those less fortunate or down on their luck. Niall loved this initiative and had volunteered to help bring in food. In order to reduce the costs that might be placed on the knights to feed those in need, Niall was one of many who had staked out the area hunting for big game. He loved getting out in the wilderness and practicing his skills.
Niall stalked deeper and deeper into the Bronze woods. On his back was a quiver made to hold the six javelins he used for hunting. The bow and arrow or even the crossbow and quarrel were better hunting tools to those who did not learn how to properly walk the land. But the javelin or spear was the true hunters ammunition because one had to prove he could stalk closer to the prey before going for the kill. The purest of the forest walkers could actually engage an elk or deer in hand to hand combat being able to sneak their way directly by his foe’s side. Niall had not advanced to that level of talent yet. In the future he hoped he would, but not now.
Silently he stalked into a clearing that he knew the local elk frequented. If luck was on his side there would be a ten point or even bigger waiting out in the open. Niall did come upon something in the clearing, but it was no big game. A human was standing right in the center of the clearing, with his back to Niall. The human stood about a foot shorter than Niall and was as still as an oak tree, in what appeared to be a combative stance. In the blink of an eye he kicked his rear leg forward, landing in an a stance that was reverse of the previous. Fluidly moving from his first kick, he followed up with a forward strike with his hand. His hand however was not closed in a fist, but extended, as if to strike with his finger tips. Pulling his hand back, the human launched a powerful kick from his rear leg that shot out horizontally and spun him around. Recovering from the kick, he was now facing Niall, looking directly into his eyes. The human's face was smooth, but still carried the air of someone who had lived a many eras. He had shaved his head bald and was wearing loose brown clothing.
"You planning on sticking me with that pointy stick?" The human called out to Niall without the slightest hesitation. His gaze pierced through him like a blade, red hot from the forge. "If not, I recommend lowering the javelin."The human said with a contemptuous smirk.
"No, please excuse me." Niall replied, lowering the javelin that he forgot was pointed in the direction of the human. "I am Niall Raghnall, squire of the Syliras Knights" He told the human, remembering his manners. "I see you are well trained in unarmed combat."
The human gave him a quizzical look, and said "My name is Guiermont , and I have been training in the arts for more years than I can remember." Guiermont gave off an air of superiority as he spoke. Not arrogance, but one who had seen and knew much. “You know enough to identify the ability in me. Have you been training long?”
“I am Akalak. It is the way of my people to begin training in the unarmed arts from very young. I have not the technique or experience that you have shown, but I have learned and still strive to learn more.” Niall replied calmly while wondering who this man was.
"Then let us practice together. Maybe there is something we could teach each other and is why we met on this spot on this day." Guiermont said, gesturing at Niall's javelins indicating he should remove them. Guiermont slid into his stance, with the ease that only a well trained practitioner could, and waited for Niall to respond.
Niall could not help but feel drawn to face this human. Akalak loved a more physical unarmed combat style that was trained through actually sparring. They learned best from remembering those moves that worked best on them or trying something for themselves that they observed in a fight. Anger was not a part of their combat methods. They offered full respect to the one they faced, and always fought with the utmost honor.
Niall crouched slightly placing a small bend in his knees so that he was moving on the front balls of his foot. This allowed for immediate reaction. Akalak were a very strong race but were also held a quickness most were unprepared for. It was rumored that Akajia cursed them with their inner demon to balance the perfected race that Wysar had created. Akalak took this as a sign of respect for being the best at what they were, the greatest warriors the land held; cunning and intelligent, deadly and strong.
The two slowly circled each other in the center of the clearing. The elder human was the perfect posture of mental control. He looked more focused that a mountain cat poised for the kill. He held no emotion; it was more of a completely oneness with everything around him. It was a look that caught Niall off guard. He’d never faced an opponent like this before. Guiermont acted as if he already knew it was coming. Instead of moving back, he thrust downward with his palm pushing Niall’s attack more toward Guiermont’s legs. This prevent Niall from taking a strong step for his second punch. As Niall’s thrust punch tried going for the head, Guiermont spun away from the attack pushing Niall’s punch away from him. Then Guiermont brought up his foot and came crashing down on Niall’s thigh. Niall instantly fell to one knee as the strike weakened his leg. Guiermont ended by thrusting his own fist towards Niall’s nose stopping mere inches from full contact.
Niall looked down his nose at the open palmed hand about to thrust his nose inward towards his brain and hesitated a second. Then he let out a loud laugh that could be heard by any nearby. Even Niall’s grandfather had not shown such talent during their sparring sessions, and Niall was well beyond impressed as he rose to his feet. Niall looked Guiermont directly in his eyes and then offered a deep bow. “Master” was all he said. Guiermont returned the bow.