10th of Summer, 518 A.V.
There were moments in time when it felt as if Lhex decided that a person deserved a break. When all the planets aligned, the birds sung, and the gods felt happy to bless a person with the one thing they were looking for. And for Quzon, all he wanted was a sparing partner who enjoyed getting bloody.
He mentioned this issue in casual conversation while working to the Cerulean dig team he worked with at the Coalinga Gem Mines, and they invited him to spar at the Takula Outpost. "I don't mind a fight. How about it, lets make it a competition. Who can get the most wins before the sunsets?" One Cerulean said in jest. "I'll whoop your ass anytime." Another Cerulean mentioned, which sparked a stream of insults to be launched around by the entire group. It was obvious that most of the insults were not serious, while others were personal, causing both parties to get serious.
The short walk to the Outpost ended with everyone hyped up to start violence. Quzon had no clue why these particular Akalak were segregated from the rest of their society. As he glanced around to those around them, they all seem practically normal. They worked hard in the minds, served the god Wysar with a devotion that rivaled an Isur’s reverence to Izurdin.
Yes, it was true that he had witness a few of them acting odd within the mines. But it made Quzon feel as if he were a Rekrut back in the Taloban Army. Spending a day working hard with a bunch of violent, emotionally unstable men, who enjoy do their best to become as strong as they could be? The Cerulean were Myrians.
Quzon had never been to the Takula Outpost, and to be fair he still had never entered it. The small group of warriors all congregated outside of it in a loose circle as challenges were thrown around with each combatants fighting within the perimeter of the circle. The main circle was where the most anticipated fights took place, however other smaller fights broke away from the crowd across the grassy field.
As the fights progressed, he noticed that many of the Cerulean were clad in leather armor who wielded Lakan, and various other weapons. But when it came to Quzon, he proved to be the antithesis to their uniformity. He sat cross legged while clad in a set of banded mail armor. “Why the armor?” A Cerulean who sat next to him asked while eating a piece strips of dried meats.
“Mines, they dangerous. Yukeman. Dangerous shadows. Armor is protection. It also heavy, good for weightlifting. I adjust straps, so straps no help much. I forced to carry full weight.” His broken common was no longer a surprise to anyone not that he had worked with several of the same member of the Cerulean for two seasons.
"Let's fight."
The words caused Quzon to look back over his shoulder towards a the voice that spoke towards him. That was when he noticed the fast moving hand swinging towards his face by the person standing behind him. The palm slammed him directly across the face which turned his head to look forward again from the force of the blow. Quzon erupted to his feet as the Cerulean that were all watching the many fights laughed at how the fight started.
The seven foot tall Cerulean who had hit him quickly backpedaled away as Quzon barreled towards him. The man's footwork was impeccable which was show through their ability to hit Quzon in the head with three jabs to the face while the Isur charged in. Quzon absorbed the blows because he wanted to tackle the man to the ground. He slammed the shoulder of his armor into the Akalak's midsection, then wrapped his arms around their waist as he dug his boot heels into the ground to try and force the man to the ground. The Akalak remained on their feet, but their feet dug loose trails across the ground as Quzon acted like a bull pulling pushing a field plow.
The takedown had failed, but he still had the man in his grasp. The Myrian pulled back his arm to rapidly slammed his gauntlet covered fists into the kidney portion of the mans leather armor.
He mentioned this issue in casual conversation while working to the Cerulean dig team he worked with at the Coalinga Gem Mines, and they invited him to spar at the Takula Outpost. "I don't mind a fight. How about it, lets make it a competition. Who can get the most wins before the sunsets?" One Cerulean said in jest. "I'll whoop your ass anytime." Another Cerulean mentioned, which sparked a stream of insults to be launched around by the entire group. It was obvious that most of the insults were not serious, while others were personal, causing both parties to get serious.
The short walk to the Outpost ended with everyone hyped up to start violence. Quzon had no clue why these particular Akalak were segregated from the rest of their society. As he glanced around to those around them, they all seem practically normal. They worked hard in the minds, served the god Wysar with a devotion that rivaled an Isur’s reverence to Izurdin.
Yes, it was true that he had witness a few of them acting odd within the mines. But it made Quzon feel as if he were a Rekrut back in the Taloban Army. Spending a day working hard with a bunch of violent, emotionally unstable men, who enjoy do their best to become as strong as they could be? The Cerulean were Myrians.
Quzon had never been to the Takula Outpost, and to be fair he still had never entered it. The small group of warriors all congregated outside of it in a loose circle as challenges were thrown around with each combatants fighting within the perimeter of the circle. The main circle was where the most anticipated fights took place, however other smaller fights broke away from the crowd across the grassy field.
As the fights progressed, he noticed that many of the Cerulean were clad in leather armor who wielded Lakan, and various other weapons. But when it came to Quzon, he proved to be the antithesis to their uniformity. He sat cross legged while clad in a set of banded mail armor. “Why the armor?” A Cerulean who sat next to him asked while eating a piece strips of dried meats.
“Mines, they dangerous. Yukeman. Dangerous shadows. Armor is protection. It also heavy, good for weightlifting. I adjust straps, so straps no help much. I forced to carry full weight.” His broken common was no longer a surprise to anyone not that he had worked with several of the same member of the Cerulean for two seasons.
"Let's fight."
The words caused Quzon to look back over his shoulder towards a the voice that spoke towards him. That was when he noticed the fast moving hand swinging towards his face by the person standing behind him. The palm slammed him directly across the face which turned his head to look forward again from the force of the blow. Quzon erupted to his feet as the Cerulean that were all watching the many fights laughed at how the fight started.
The seven foot tall Cerulean who had hit him quickly backpedaled away as Quzon barreled towards him. The man's footwork was impeccable which was show through their ability to hit Quzon in the head with three jabs to the face while the Isur charged in. Quzon absorbed the blows because he wanted to tackle the man to the ground. He slammed the shoulder of his armor into the Akalak's midsection, then wrapped his arms around their waist as he dug his boot heels into the ground to try and force the man to the ground. The Akalak remained on their feet, but their feet dug loose trails across the ground as Quzon acted like a bull pulling pushing a field plow.
The takedown had failed, but he still had the man in his grasp. The Myrian pulled back his arm to rapidly slammed his gauntlet covered fists into the kidney portion of the mans leather armor.
Word: 721
