9th of Summer, 507AV, Little Past the 10th Bell
Longhouse of the Blackened Claws
Grunts and yelps. The steady thwacking of bones. Impact. Heavy breathing. The snapping sound of flesh on flesh. The rancid stench of exertion. Sneers. Growls.
Such sensations weren't uncommon experiences among the youth of the Blackened Claws clan, especially among those who trained hard to excel in using their ancestral art in service of their combat proficiency. Of those who intended to serve in the Taloban Army for beyond the required three years for their coming of age ritual, a handful subjected themselves to extensive daily training in an effort to excel. They would take their lessons from whomever was willing to teach, be it their parents or the elders or even each other in the form of sparring. This last instance was what had been resorted to on this day, as everyone who had any more experience than they themselves appeared busy.
Out somewhere in the copse of trees surrounding the clan longhouse, in one of the several clearings in the thick jungle trees, roughly half a dozen young adolescents of the Blackened Claws exchanged frequent blows. Some Morphed their appendages into more useful protrusions, others relied entirely on their body's natural shape. They were divided into a few pairs, trading attacks between themselves and learning from the experience.
Vurk, of course, was right there in the thick of it.
His was the good fortune to be paired off against Uzil, one of the most promising young clanswomen that the Blackened Claws had produced. She was every bit as serious in her training as Vurk himself, so theirs was a common pairing.
Both stood opposite each other, breathing heavily after their most recent bout, the claws that had been their hands snapping back to their original shapes in a series of cracks and snaps. As had often been the case over their past few years of sparring, neither had been good enough to get a hit on the other. Though perhaps that was less about quality and more about similarity, as even against those who trained little at all they had both suffered blows. Two sets of shoulders rose and fell rhythmically, inhaling and exhaling in a cycle of recuperation. Two mirrored grins widened their sweating faces.
"Want to try what I showed you yesterday?" Vurk asked tersely.
Uzil's answer was equally succinct. "Yes. Now."
With that declaration, both young warrior's arms began to shift and change. The length remained consistent between them, but the actual shape of their forearms were being altered into something far more rigid. It was a cathartic feeling for Vurk to sense his djed twisting and churning, painful in a way that was not tense. From their skin came solid protrusions that wove over their limbs like a second skin that covered everything from elbow to wrist in a protective armament.
What appeared at first were amalgamations of jagged carapace pieces, exoskeletons that had failed in their design. However, these were not the finished products. Both Claws took their hands to their forearms, pressing and breaking the carapaces into the correct shapes. No one ever got it right on the first try within days of learning a model, as their djed had not yet become familiar with the way it was supposed to be. Always the djed would want to cling to its natural form, until broken out of it by the will and facilitation of its owner. Sometimes it took only the delicate ministrations of their fingers, at other times it took the full blunt force of their fists to get the natural armor into the shape they desired, but the end result was as they had intended it to be: an exoskeleton on each arm that acted as a vambrace.
"It is difficult," was Uzil's single pithy comment, inspecting the rough armaments more closely. While not dissatisfied with what she saw, she was clearly not impressed.
Vurk could also be observant. "It is only our fifth attempt. It was fortuitous for us to achieve our goals in so short a time with so unfamiliar a model." Crouching slightly and spreading his legs, Vurk lowered into a fighting stance that brought his arms to the front of his body, with the intent of using his recent discovery. "Prepare yourself."
Instantly, Uzil crouched into a stance similar to the one Vurk adopted, her own carapaces held in front of her. They were not as forward as Vurk's were, but they were different in many respects. In many more ways they were similar.
Neither said anything more, just advanced quickly in an effort to close the gap between them as soon as possible. Once the other was within reach, both stopped and brought their carapaces swinging around toward the midpoint of them both with a decent amount of force for a pair of adolescents. The vambrace exoskeletons were held out rather than their fists, taking and dealing most of the damage that would come from the blow.
A loud thwack escaped into the jungle.
Longhouse of the Blackened Claws
Grunts and yelps. The steady thwacking of bones. Impact. Heavy breathing. The snapping sound of flesh on flesh. The rancid stench of exertion. Sneers. Growls.
Such sensations weren't uncommon experiences among the youth of the Blackened Claws clan, especially among those who trained hard to excel in using their ancestral art in service of their combat proficiency. Of those who intended to serve in the Taloban Army for beyond the required three years for their coming of age ritual, a handful subjected themselves to extensive daily training in an effort to excel. They would take their lessons from whomever was willing to teach, be it their parents or the elders or even each other in the form of sparring. This last instance was what had been resorted to on this day, as everyone who had any more experience than they themselves appeared busy.
Out somewhere in the copse of trees surrounding the clan longhouse, in one of the several clearings in the thick jungle trees, roughly half a dozen young adolescents of the Blackened Claws exchanged frequent blows. Some Morphed their appendages into more useful protrusions, others relied entirely on their body's natural shape. They were divided into a few pairs, trading attacks between themselves and learning from the experience.
Vurk, of course, was right there in the thick of it.
His was the good fortune to be paired off against Uzil, one of the most promising young clanswomen that the Blackened Claws had produced. She was every bit as serious in her training as Vurk himself, so theirs was a common pairing.
Both stood opposite each other, breathing heavily after their most recent bout, the claws that had been their hands snapping back to their original shapes in a series of cracks and snaps. As had often been the case over their past few years of sparring, neither had been good enough to get a hit on the other. Though perhaps that was less about quality and more about similarity, as even against those who trained little at all they had both suffered blows. Two sets of shoulders rose and fell rhythmically, inhaling and exhaling in a cycle of recuperation. Two mirrored grins widened their sweating faces.
"Want to try what I showed you yesterday?" Vurk asked tersely.
Uzil's answer was equally succinct. "Yes. Now."
With that declaration, both young warrior's arms began to shift and change. The length remained consistent between them, but the actual shape of their forearms were being altered into something far more rigid. It was a cathartic feeling for Vurk to sense his djed twisting and churning, painful in a way that was not tense. From their skin came solid protrusions that wove over their limbs like a second skin that covered everything from elbow to wrist in a protective armament.
What appeared at first were amalgamations of jagged carapace pieces, exoskeletons that had failed in their design. However, these were not the finished products. Both Claws took their hands to their forearms, pressing and breaking the carapaces into the correct shapes. No one ever got it right on the first try within days of learning a model, as their djed had not yet become familiar with the way it was supposed to be. Always the djed would want to cling to its natural form, until broken out of it by the will and facilitation of its owner. Sometimes it took only the delicate ministrations of their fingers, at other times it took the full blunt force of their fists to get the natural armor into the shape they desired, but the end result was as they had intended it to be: an exoskeleton on each arm that acted as a vambrace.
"It is difficult," was Uzil's single pithy comment, inspecting the rough armaments more closely. While not dissatisfied with what she saw, she was clearly not impressed.
Vurk could also be observant. "It is only our fifth attempt. It was fortuitous for us to achieve our goals in so short a time with so unfamiliar a model." Crouching slightly and spreading his legs, Vurk lowered into a fighting stance that brought his arms to the front of his body, with the intent of using his recent discovery. "Prepare yourself."
Instantly, Uzil crouched into a stance similar to the one Vurk adopted, her own carapaces held in front of her. They were not as forward as Vurk's were, but they were different in many respects. In many more ways they were similar.
Neither said anything more, just advanced quickly in an effort to close the gap between them as soon as possible. Once the other was within reach, both stopped and brought their carapaces swinging around toward the midpoint of them both with a decent amount of force for a pair of adolescents. The vambrace exoskeletons were held out rather than their fists, taking and dealing most of the damage that would come from the blow.
A loud thwack escaped into the jungle.
