8th of Summer, 514.
Archailist was growing tired. He'd spent countless bells training with his patron but that simply wasn't good enough. The only things he learned during the sessions were different ways to evade the man, and those were the same things he'd learned when in Nyka anyway. There was nothing in terms of actual combat that the man could give, and there was nothing that could be taken. And with Fist, it was the exact opposite. It was true, there were many things that could be learned from her - she had exemplar skills across the board in a multitude of weapons, and her own two hands. However, there was something to getting kicked into the ground repeatedly that became tiring after a few days. And exhausting after a few more. It would be easier if she didn't insist on beating him nearly into the floor with every single session, but she did.. and he always lost.
He wished, that he could just find some kind of level ground somewhere between the two. Where he wouldn't be constantly beaten down into a pulp and humiliated.. and where he wouldn't be given such easy tasks that they seemed mundane and boring. Which was why he came, not to the Fighters Pits, but to the Training Grounds, in hope of finding a knight. After all, that was where he would soon end up - he wanted to get to know some of the knights, and there was no better way to do that, than fight them on the battlefield. Although as soon as he walked into the grounds and glanced about the various levels, covered with strategically-placed debris and artificial obstacles, he realized he'd made quite a mistake. There was practically nobody around at all. Barely a squire or two playing around with training swords and wooden weapons, and a red-haired man standing watch over most of the rest of the grounds. He wasnt a Weaponmaster though - he knew what they all looked like, and not one had such startling red hair.
Oh well. No sense in just standing about and doing nothing - the squirrel had brought along his Py-Pole to train with regardless of whether or not he found another person to use the strange weapon on. The thing bounced up and down in his paw while he wandered down the various different arenas and terrains set up, before he found one that he liked. And by one he liked, he meant one with some training dummies in it. Wooden bases with cloth bodies stuffed with straw - the perfect targets for some aerial combat. But he needed a run-up before he could do anything serious, so he took a few steps back and prepared a deep breath. This would take serious skill - after all, if it was a real fight, the person would be able to see the attack coming and move out of the way in a split-tick. He needed to make sure that the attack came fast, as well as hard. The fast part would be easy, though. As long as his aim was straight, he'd be fine - he knew it. And if not... well, this was why he was practicing with wooden dummies.
First, he took a tight grip with both paws spread out as wide as possible. To stabilize the pole while he was running - the thing just ended up bouncing all over the place, otherwise. His feet were also set at a good distance apart. He felt ready.. prepared.. yep. It was now or never.. so he begun to sprint towards the dummy, as fast as he could on two legs. The metal tip at the front of the pole added extra weight and caused the whole thing to bounce up and down repeatedly, even as he extended his arms even further to control it. And just as he was nearing the base of the dummy.. he lurched forwards and stabbed the pole into the dirt, tip-first, and continued running. The tree-sap pole bent and creaked as more tension built up along the middle, pushing out to either side.. and suddenly, his grip nearly slipped completely as the elastic pole stretched back and launched him straight into the air.. and over the dummy's shoulder.
Archailist was growing tired. He'd spent countless bells training with his patron but that simply wasn't good enough. The only things he learned during the sessions were different ways to evade the man, and those were the same things he'd learned when in Nyka anyway. There was nothing in terms of actual combat that the man could give, and there was nothing that could be taken. And with Fist, it was the exact opposite. It was true, there were many things that could be learned from her - she had exemplar skills across the board in a multitude of weapons, and her own two hands. However, there was something to getting kicked into the ground repeatedly that became tiring after a few days. And exhausting after a few more. It would be easier if she didn't insist on beating him nearly into the floor with every single session, but she did.. and he always lost.
He wished, that he could just find some kind of level ground somewhere between the two. Where he wouldn't be constantly beaten down into a pulp and humiliated.. and where he wouldn't be given such easy tasks that they seemed mundane and boring. Which was why he came, not to the Fighters Pits, but to the Training Grounds, in hope of finding a knight. After all, that was where he would soon end up - he wanted to get to know some of the knights, and there was no better way to do that, than fight them on the battlefield. Although as soon as he walked into the grounds and glanced about the various levels, covered with strategically-placed debris and artificial obstacles, he realized he'd made quite a mistake. There was practically nobody around at all. Barely a squire or two playing around with training swords and wooden weapons, and a red-haired man standing watch over most of the rest of the grounds. He wasnt a Weaponmaster though - he knew what they all looked like, and not one had such startling red hair.
Oh well. No sense in just standing about and doing nothing - the squirrel had brought along his Py-Pole to train with regardless of whether or not he found another person to use the strange weapon on. The thing bounced up and down in his paw while he wandered down the various different arenas and terrains set up, before he found one that he liked. And by one he liked, he meant one with some training dummies in it. Wooden bases with cloth bodies stuffed with straw - the perfect targets for some aerial combat. But he needed a run-up before he could do anything serious, so he took a few steps back and prepared a deep breath. This would take serious skill - after all, if it was a real fight, the person would be able to see the attack coming and move out of the way in a split-tick. He needed to make sure that the attack came fast, as well as hard. The fast part would be easy, though. As long as his aim was straight, he'd be fine - he knew it. And if not... well, this was why he was practicing with wooden dummies.
First, he took a tight grip with both paws spread out as wide as possible. To stabilize the pole while he was running - the thing just ended up bouncing all over the place, otherwise. His feet were also set at a good distance apart. He felt ready.. prepared.. yep. It was now or never.. so he begun to sprint towards the dummy, as fast as he could on two legs. The metal tip at the front of the pole added extra weight and caused the whole thing to bounce up and down repeatedly, even as he extended his arms even further to control it. And just as he was nearing the base of the dummy.. he lurched forwards and stabbed the pole into the dirt, tip-first, and continued running. The tree-sap pole bent and creaked as more tension built up along the middle, pushing out to either side.. and suddenly, his grip nearly slipped completely as the elastic pole stretched back and launched him straight into the air.. and over the dummy's shoulder.
