Solo Lessons II

[Oryani]

Spring 71st, 514 AV

The day after their first lesson, Poma had insisted on a second… this one even more intense than the last. She had decided that Oryani needed to work on agility as well as the tomahawk… setting it with a rather confusing explanation in broken Common that the Chatakwe didn’t even bother trying to decipher. There seemed to be no way to stop the Myrian from getting what she wanted, so… there was no point fighting it. She just nodded blankly and did what the larger woman said. Life seemed to be much easier that way...

“You learn to fall,” Poma announced as soon as the official lesson had started. Oryani stared at the woman in confusion. She knew how to fall… who didn’t? It was just falling. You didn’t learn it… it wasn’t generally something you did on purpose. The Myrian noticed the expression and grinned. “You fall, you hurt. Learn fall… no hurt. Tall fall, little fall. No matter. But little fall now.” Her speech was as forward as ever, and she took a few steps forward and shoved the Drykas to the ground, natural strength easily bringing the smaller woman to the ground. Oryani was so startled that she didn’t even resist, falling hard on her tailbone with a wince.

Poma reached a hand out to help the archer up, saying “See? Hurt. And.. you heavy.” It wasn’t, of course, heavy enough for the Myrian to even have trouble, but more a surprising weight that you weren’t expecting. Oryani understood completely and nodded. As a Chatakwe she had an extra organ to store water, meaning she weighed a whole lot more than she really should have, if she’d been a human. Poma looked as confused as the Drykas sometimes did, but shrugged and let it go.

“To fall, roll on back and curl a little so not hit one place hard. Roll back, roll up.” The Myrian demonstrated falling backwards easily to roll a little, slapping her hands on the ground once before rolling up and hopping back onto her feet. It was amazingly graceful, and Oryani raised her eyebrows in surprise. Poma urged her to try and she backed up, finding a place with enough room to complete the action. She glanced behind her several times, just to make sure. It was very hard to make yourself fall over, considering it was instinctual not too.

The Myrian noticed the lengthy hesitation and sighed, stepping forward to stand in front of her student. “I push,” she stated flatly, as the only warning to her next action. Oryani turned around to be pushed forcefully down. Once again, she was surprised enough not to even try to fall down. On the way down, however, she remembered to curl in a little on herself, finding a nice edge to roll on when she landed near the same place she had before. This time, with the curl, the momentum forced her to roll back nearly putting her weight on her shoulders, before heading back. She didn’t hop up like the Myrian had, but found a comfortable sitting place with her legs crossed. “Good! Remember slap, and try stand,” Poma said, helping Oryani up… before pushing her down again a moment later.

The process repeated itself, the Chatakwe slowly growing more and more comfortable with the action… and with Poma’s surprise attacks. After a few repeats, however, she found she was able to shift her weight backwards on her own so she fell over, before rolling back. She had trouble standing up afterwards, however, and usually either went to a sitting position or stumbled up before collapsing again, missing momentum. Luckily, the Myrian didn’t seem to care that much about that part, so once Oryani seemed to have it down rather easily, the exercise was finished.

“Now, fight,” Poma ordered, handing over one of her two tomahawks like she had the day before. Oryani shifted it around in her hand, quickly finding a comfortable place to hold it. Her grip rested at the bottom like she’d been taught, where she could get the most momentum out of the heavy weapon. “Toes!” the Myrian called, bouncing on her own. The woman seemed ready for a fight of her own, hands up and second tomahawk in hand. It was a little worrisome, but the archer copied the movements, eyeing the larger woman’s weapon.

“Eyes, my eyes. Punch,” Oryani dragged her eyes up to meet the dark ones of the Myrians, not wanting to take them off the real danger… the axe head. Poma stared straight back, as if… expecting something. She’d said what? Punch? Right… the attack movement. The Drykas hopped around a little, finding the right angle for the attack, then launching it forward, knowing she was half a foot too far away to actually hit anything. She stretched her arm forward, coming down to a locked elbow hard, hoping she didn’t hurt the Myrian. A moment before she’d finished, however, something put her completely off balance.

Poma had come up with her own tomahawk and apparently blocked with it, whipping the Chatakwe’s locked arm to the side and practically turning the woman a full one eighty. Surprised by the attack, Oryani lost her grip on the weapon and dropped it, sending it spinning into the dirt at their feet. The Myrian bent down and picked it up, handing it back to her student. “Hold. No drop. You hit, I block. Be ready, don’t be open. Hit me, not air.”

Oryani recovered quickly and turned back, remembering to stay on her toes and look Poma in the eyes, though she had no idea why. It felt impressive and maybe useful, however, so maybe she’d come to something. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to watch her own blade? That would be a little harder… she’d have to work off feel alone, then. She paused for a moment, ready for an attack, then remembered she was the attacker. She wanted to look at her blade, but remembered Poma’s order. Eyes on eyes.

As quickly as she possibly could, she reached forward, trying to smash her blade into the Myrian’s chest, not really caring if she accidentally hurt the woman. She was almost certain this would be blocked anyways, so why worry? She kept her eyes locked on Poma’s the entire time, and noticed something she hadn’t realized earlier just before the block came. The Myrian’s eyes glanced down at Oryani’s tomahawk, and practically a moment later the smaller woman felt a force hit her arm and shove it away. That was what she was supposed to be looking for… alright. This time, she was also prepared for the block, so though her arm was still shoved rather forcefully down (and hurt), she didn’t drop the tomahawk, and managed to bounce back a few steps and bring it back up to eye level.

Poma grinned at the reaction. “Good! Natural. Keep attacking.”

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- Pavi - Common - Tawna -

[Oryani]

The process became an almost repetitive one, Oryani shoving a ‘punch’ at the Myrian, before being blocked rather easily. Poma gained a serious look on her face, professionally and easily swiping away her student’s attacks. They moved in almost a circle, both on their toes, and hoping forwards or backwards and to either side when needed. A sort of rhythm evolved, one that was almost soothing in a way. She relaxed, mind not quite as focused on the attacks as she could have been.

However, she did feel a need to change something up. Constantly having her efforts thrown away got a little annoying at times, and it would be nice to have a change. Throw the Myrian off a bit, ruin the predictable pattern. Her only other option of attack was hacking, as throwing it would probably not be a good idea.

This time, when she swung the tomahawk, she twisted it to the side and up a little, aiming for the woman’s neck. She got to a point where she was almost scared she’d hit, before, like lightning, Poma brought her own arm up and blocked them. The angle was such that it was harder for the Myrian to push away, and instead they were left at a standstill, the larger woman grinning widely.

“Good good! Try and surprise. Try harder, faster. Though if get better need no blades… blades hurt.” As soon as she’d finished the sentence Poma moved forward, lashing her weapon at the unexpecting Chatakwe’s head. Poma used the base of the handle instead of the blade, cracking it down on her opponent’s skull mercilessly. It hit hard and fast, and when Oryani realized what had happened, she was on the ground with a headache.

She groaned, rubbing her head and staring up at the Myrian in confusion. “Why am I here?” she asked vaguely, wondering why she’d gone from standing up to lying down. And when. She remembered Poma’s last words, then… pain? Pain she could remember. She could also feel it, a throbbing in her skull where something had hit her. Something…

Immediately she scowled at the older woman, knowing who had caused the pain. “Ow,” she said flatly, in an attempt to explain her annoyance. Poma simply laughed, making the Drykas even more annoyed. She tried to push herself up into a sitting position, though nearly fell from a sudden spurt of dizziness. Oryani didn’t like the idea of trying to stand up. Luckily, the Myrian held out a hand and she grasped it grateful for the hand up. She let most of her weight be pulled up, head still swimming from the blow. And she hated swimming.

Before she was fully on her feet, however, she realized that Poma was being less than helpful. The tugging on her arm stopped abruptly, and being unprepared she crashed down onto the earthy ground with an ‘oof’. Now both her head and her tailbone hurt, thanks to the Myrian. Maybe training like this wasn’t a good idea. It caused too much pain. Too much pain for her liking.

“Fall no hurt!” the woman scolded, apparently relating back to their earlier lesson. Right. The one where she’d learnt how to fall properly. Were they really going to review that now? Her head still hurt, despite the fact that it was slowly clearing. She wanted a drink of water, though doubted she’d get one.

When the next hand up came, she expected the result. When she fell she curled up, rolling on her back to relieve the shock and slapping her hands on the ground just before she moved back. She still didn’t know what the point of that was. She stopped at a sitting position, not having enough will to truly stand up. She was no going to let Poma help her up again. When the Myrian offered yet another hand, she simply scowled at it, not moving.

“That hurt,” she complained, talking about everything in general. Poma laughed. Was she laughing at Oryani’s pain? Probably. The warrior seemed to like pain… especially the Drykas’. “Life hurt,” was the simple response, something that, after some thought, actually sounded rather deep. Life did hurt. There were aches and pains every step of the way (especially today), both mental and physical. She frowned at the ground, contemplating this in a dazed kind of way, still not fully back to her senses. She really just wanted to lie down and sleep. What would Poma do if she rolled over right now?

She wasn’t given time to find an answer, however, as the Myrian grabbed her under the elbows and hauled the prone Chatakwe up. Oryani grunted at the surprise but quickly found her legs, though she stumbled a few steps until she figured out where the ground was, exactly. It felt a little like it was tilted. She still wanted to sit down though. Sit down and sleep… the thought was so tempting.

Poma eyed the blank-eyed archer for a moment, before coming to a decision. “Maybe I hit too hard,” she said in a musing tone, earning a glare from her student. After a moment Oryani snorted, eyes drifting back to the ground where it felt easier to look. “Yes. You sit, drink. We start again in bell. Rest!” The woman then prodded Oryani into the Den of Exiles, where she quickly went around fetching a drink and all-round making the Drykas more comfortable.

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- Pavi - Common - Tawna -

[Oryani]

It took half a bell for Oryani’s head to fully clear, and after that time Poma had seriously decided that the blow had probably been too hard. In fact, the Myrian was adamant about it. Instead of practicing with weapons for the rest of the day, however, the woman decided to take another tactic. Which was, apparently, stretching. They found themselves on the floor of one of the buildings at the Den of Exiles, the Chatakwe feeling much more comfortable with the subject. She knew how to stretch, though she didn’t exactly do it… regularly. She never really found a need for it. She wasn’t incredibly flexible of course, but… only acrobats and tumblers truly needed to be flexible, didn’t they?

However, according to her teacher, warriors needed to be flexible as well. “To run and dodge and hit,” was the explanation, though it was a vague one. A very vague one. You needed a lot of things to run and dodge and hit. Like a brain. And eyes. And apparently, flexibility. However, since the Myrian put herself forcefully in charge, Oryani had nothing better to do but follow along. If this would help her become better at fighting, extend her abilities to something other than archery and riding, she was alright with it. She was not alright with being hit more on the head than she’d already been, however.

Poma had her legs stretched open as wide as they would go, not quite a split, but closer than the Drykas could get herself. She sat down in a similar position, though, placing her legs in a comfortable position, as far as they would go without hurting. The Myrian, however, scowled at this, before scooting forward with a determined look in her eyes that was a little worrying. The older woman placed her feet just above Oryani’s ankles and pushed them out while still sitting. It was awkward, but the archer quickly felt a stretch in a place she was unused to, and winced. “Ow,” she muttered irritably, but Poma kept pushing until it seemed like her legs physically couldn’t go any further.

Once that was done, the Myrian decided to make everything worse. The woman grabbed Oryani’s hands and pulled on them, jerking the Chakatkwe forward unexpectedly. It put a strain on her back, and, oddly, more pressure on the muscles just on the inside of her legs, which were already stretched to their limit and screaming in pain. “OW!” she yelped, trying to pull back as Poma pulled her forward, feeling like she’d break something if she went any further. Break a muscle, probably. Together they managed to find a position where she didn’t feel like she would die from pain, but still clenched all the muscles in her face from the pain. “I thought stretching was supposed to be passive,” she complained to herself in Pavi, not caring if her tutor didn’t understand her. It hurt more than sparring had, which was saying something.

The Myrian ignored her winces of pain, refusing to allow Oryani to relax any further. She was stuck in this position, and no matter how much as she tugged to be allowed to sit up, Poma didn’t give any lenience. It seemed pointless to fight a battle of pure strength with someone like this. Instead she tried to relax, eyes clenched against the pain. Slowly but steadily, however, the muscles began to loosen (or was it pull?), adjusting to the stress and strain. After what felt like nearly a bell –though it had probably been two chimes- Poma released Oryani’s hands, letting the Drykas finally sit up, moaning at the stiffness. Her tutor stood up and she copied it, nearly falling over at first because of the pain in her legs.

“Shake them,” the Myrian ordered and the archer complied, finding some relief in the movement of the limbs. She hobbled a few steps over, before warming to the feel and finding herself more comfortable on legs that didn’t really feel like holding her up. She scowled in Poma’s direction but the woman simply grinned, leading the way out of the Den of Exiles. “Now I will show you fighting. Come,” was the only explanation she got, and the pair set off into Taloba.

They weren’t really in the city for long, as they quickly found the gate and exited through it, finding themselves in the dense jungle that was always present in this place. Oryani wasn’t quite sure where they were going, but the walking was nice, so she didn’t complain. It was better than stretching or sparring, both of which now equalled pain in her mind. Every once in a while she rubbed her leg, when it twinged in pain or complained.

They finally arrived at their destination, which seemed to be more a collection of a group of Myrians than anything. When a gap opened in the wall of bodies, however, Oryani saw a pair of sweating men grappling each other in a ring of stones. They growled and taunted each other, though the speech was in Myrian, so she didn’t understand the words. The tone was obvious enough, however. Both she and Poma edged closer to watch, the Chatakwe finally understanding the point of their journey. To find this, apparently. To find Mryians wrestling while their kin cheered them on. It was like the arm wrestling thing she’d tried earlier in the season (and lost), though a lot more physical. This time, she was adamant she wasn’t going to participate. Poma had said this was for watching, though… so she apparently wasn’t required…

The fight ended rather abruptly, when one man looped a leg behind his opponents and pushed the man down by the shoulders, shoving out his way of standing upright. The sudden movement caught the victim by surprise, and the Myrian toppled to the ground heaving, letting out a huge breath of air when he landed. There was a loud cheer from one side of the crowd and the winner raised his arms, victorious. The loser was left to pull himself up and out of the ring, grumbling irritably.

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- Pavi - Common - Tawna -

[Oryani]

Oryani took a half step to the side as Poma moved forward, doing something that surprised the Chatakwe. She was getting far too many surprises today, and lately. The older woman walked flat into the ring and grinned at the winner, shrugging her shoulders as if to say she was doing this for the fun of it. There was some chatter and discussion, before both set themselves up at the far edges of the ring, facing each other. Oryani slipped forward to watch more closely, curious to see what Poma could do. From her vantage point she could see that the female was keeping her eyes locked on the male’s, but her opponent was watching her body for the first movement.

When someone called for the competition to start, nothing happened. For a moment both stood, carefully poised, in widely different positions. Poma had her hands up, one leg back, and was balancing on her toes, occasionally bounding a little. The man looked sturdy and heavy, flat on his feet with his arms in a position able to grapple if need be. After five ticks, ten, they began circling, slowly growing closer. The male growled in irritation, probably at the lack of action. Someone from the crowd called a profanity, bringing a few chuckles. Poma’s opponent replied with a smirk, but the female did nothing, her expression not even changing. That brought down the humor slightly.

All of a sudden the man darted forward his arms open wide in an attempt to fully grab Poma in a bear hug. The woman hopped to the side just in time, so her opponent stumbled from the lack of any kind of resistance. She took the moment to slip a leg in front of his and try and force him to the ground, but the man was quicker on his feet than one would first notice, and was up and stable before the female could get him down. The man muttered something to himself, again with no response, and the fighting continued with a familiar style.

Oryani contemplated the purpose of her visit while watching the scuffle. She had a good idea of Poma’s reasoning, as it made a lot of sense. They were learning how to spar… and the Myrian had brought her to a real fight to truly see how it was done. She was actually learning something, though the fighting style itself was different… Poma was dodging and avoiding her attacker, and occasionally dolling out well-placed blows. Despite the mental strength, however… the Drykas was unsure if her mentor would win. If it was a spar with weapons, almost certainly. However, this was wrestling… and the man had already proved himself rather skillful, with his previous victory and the few times he’d almost toppled Poma. He was more used to this style, and knew the rules and tactics better. It looked mostly like the female was biding her time, for whatever would be the perfect moment… but that might not come before she herself was on the ground.

It came rather rapidly, where Poma’s attacker managed to get a full grapple around the woman. Though she was larger, he was more bulky, and in ten ticks she was on the ground. There were a few cheers, and the female’s opponent helped her up, where they had a few words of conversation before Oryani’s mentor headed back out of the crowd. They met and grinned, before heading off back to the main city.

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- Pavi - Common - Tawna -

[Catastrophe]

Oryani :

Skills

• Weapon: Tomahawk: 2 XP
• Observation: 2 XP
• Acrobatics: 1 XP
• Philosophy: 1 XP

Lores

• The Fundamentals of Proper "Falling"
• Training: Pain, but Education
• Location: The Wrestling Ring
• Style of Fighting: Dodging and Avoiding

Loot

• N/A

Notes :

A very well written thread. I liked how you described Oryani's perspective on the whole training scenario. I also liked how you took your thread to the Wrestling Ring to see what went on out there. Poma's hilarious in her own way.

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