Swinging for the Aurora (Stitch)

[Sharth]

Spring 70, 511 AV

Sharth had taken a liking to the polite Vanthan people. He occasionally got the expected stares but not as much as he had the first day he had arrived. He noticed his fur was maintaining it's white camouflage and was growing thicker. He wasn't quite as cold as he'd been during the arduous journey to this city. But it was still quite cold, but he blocked it out. He had come to a large open space between the holds to practice with his inheritance. He held up the large quarterstaff. He enjoyed the feel of Caiyha's vine carved into it, and the staff didn't feel as foreign. The trip over it made for a fine walking stick.

But for now, he decided he would have to familiarize himself with it. After all a tool should have more than a single use. He held out the staff in front of him with his left hand, his stronger hand. He tilted it downward into his other hand so that it was chest high, and parallel to the ground. He gripped it tightly with both hands. He didn't know how to practice without being in danger. He figured a good method would be to recall how creatures back home in Spires would attack. Every Jamoura had a run in with something, typically affected by Dirism.

One of the threats he had faced back then were small swarms of very large bees. They were a real danger. They were about the size of rabbits, with large stingers the size of daggers. He had escaped from about five of them over a century ago. He had accidentally stumbled upon their massive underground hive and they attacked. He remember it vividly. The five winged bringers of death crawled out of the ground and flew at him. He pictured the first diving down at him, stinger ready. He pulled the stick back and swung at it with the left end. He swung too hard and didn't maintain a strong enough of a grip as the quarterstaff slipped from his grip and went spinning away wildly behind him. He turned to see where his weapon had landed and prayed no one was hurt and nothing destroyed, since his quarterstaff was so much larger and heavier than a normal one.

[Stitch]

What kind of day was it when a simple blind man went for an innocent stroll, and was met head-on by the biggest stick he had ever encountered? As the quarterstaff came spinning toward Stitch's head, the blind man moved, his reflexes taking over. Thank God, or he likely would have had his head seperated from the rest of his body. He simply bent over backwards, moving at the waist, trying to push his flexibility to their limits. The quarterstaff barely shot over his bend-over-backwards frame, skimming over both his chin and chest. Too dedicated to the backwards fall to pull back up from it, Stitch flailed out, sticking his hands behind his head. Amazingly, he managed to catch himself on the snow, and flip his legs up and over, just to come back around with them and land them on the ground. Standing there in dull shock, amazed that he had just pulled that off, the blind man glanced around in confusion. He was fairly disoriented now. Had he just managed to pull off something of a backwards flip to dodge the oncoming staff? And had that actually been a staff? Stitch jumped as the staff smashed into a nearby tree, tearing a small chunk out of the wood. A small shriek actually echoed from his lips as he turned, surveying the damage, realizing what could have been done to his head. So entranced was he by the staff, that he totally forgot the large Jamoura looming in front of him. Still facing the staff, he quickly began to walk away, as if putting more distance between him and the massive wooden stick would prevent it from attacking him again. With a small thump, he ran into the Jamoura, causing him to let out another yelp and dance backwards. This man was high-strung. Stitch's head turned, and he looked upon the Jamoura, staring at about chest-level. It would be an odd meeting for Sharth as well, to encounter this human male with bandage wraps covering his eyes. The human male, despite his apparent handicap, was actually quite acrobatic. How strange. And apparently, he had never seen a Jamoura before. Stitch coughed nervously, then spoke up with a timid voice, his head slowly raising to stare up at Sharth's face. "Excuse this one, milord. This one is having a bad day. First, to run into a giant aggressive stick... and now, to rudely bump into a... Kelvic?" Stitch paused a moment, tilting his head to the side, suddenly giving the Aura of the beast a quick scan. Within the array of swirling tastes and smells, Stitch could easily sense one thing vastly different from the normal Kelvic Aura. This being was much more man than beast. Stitch spoke up again, his voice still soft. "...or perhaps not? This one apologizes, this one doesn't get out much. This one is simply a martial arts instructor who spends most of his time in the Icewatch Barracks. Stitch, milord." Stitch bowed at the waist, offering up a nervous smile.

[Sharth]

As he turned, after carelessly letting go of his quarterstaff, he saw what he though was horrifying. It appeared that his staff had killed a man and kept on flying. Sharth started toward the man when he saw him finish some backwards move. It appeared he dodged the flying staff nimbly, which crashed and tore a chunk out of the tree. He was glad the man was okay, but despaired for the injured tree. He started toward the poor tree when he bumped into the man he almost beheaded. "I apologize sir, are you alright? I lost control." He continued to look at the damage he'd done. He chuckled slightly at the Kelvic remark, "Perhaps indeed. I am Sharth, a Jamoura of Spires. I'm a traveler, albeit brand new to the trade." Once more his attention is diverted to the wound in the tree. "Martial arts? This term is unfamiliar to me. I'm most interested in many arts."

He finally couldn't take it anymore. "Pardon me." He then lumbered toward the tree. Upon arrival he ignored his fallen staff and knelt down to the wounded area. The damage was larger than his fist and appeared to have been tore out. He placed a palm on the affected area, and could feel the tree's pain. It felt as if he tore a section of his own ribs out. He bowed his head, tears stinging his eyes, and he closed his eyes forcing out a few tears into the snow. And there he prayed to Caiyha.

"Goddess, forgive me for the waste I have created in my carelessness. This tree is now crippled and will not survive it's destined life due to my actions. I apologize for disrupting the cycle of nature. I shall learn to plant this type of tree and give two seeds a chance at life. One in memory of this fine plant, and one in your honor. With your blessing I hope they will grow strong and produce many more trees. Thank you for everything you have given the world, my people, and myself."

He grabbed his quarterstaff and hefted it into both hands and walked back to the man. He then noticed the man to be wearing a rag over his eyes. Is he blind? Perhaps he has some other form of enjoying the world, hearing and touch perhaps? Or instinct? He held out his massive hand, about three times the size of the man's. "Once more, I apologize. I am just learning to use my weapon."

[Stitch]

Stitch merely watched the creature as he lumbered past, heading for the tree he had taken a chunk out of. Curiously, Stitch noticed the deep and genuine sadness in the beast's Aura, a sadness so profound that it nearly caused a tear to come to his own eye. For a brief second, he was almost sorry that he had dodged the massive log of a weapon, which had in turn put the tree in harm's way. Then, the Jamoura wouldn't have to feel the way he was feeling now. Guilty and sorrowful. Neither one was a pleasant emotion to indulge in. Having no idea what to say or do, Stitch just merely bowed his head out of respect, keeping still and silent. As the Jamoura finished his business and spoke, Stitch timidly raised his head, a bit intimidated by the massive creature looming in front of him. And the size of the palm that was offering him a handshake... Priskil. He offered the Jamoura a hesistant smile, reaching out his tiny hand (in comparison) to wrap around two of the outstretched fingers. Awkwardly chuckling, he gave the beast a firm shake, which probably felt like next to nothing compared to the Jamoura's massive muscles. "No need to apologize, milord. This one is still quite happy to meet you, and this one is quite fine. This one is sorry that this one... uh... didn't protect the tree." It was awkwardly stated, but a genuine apology. What a strange blind man. "Perhaps... this one doesn't mean to interfere, but perhaps if you held the staff in a bit more of a... balanced way? It is a big object, and you have to evenly hold the weight." Stitch pointed at two areas on the staff, similiar to where Sharth had held it before, but with his dominant hand a bit farther up the staff, keeping the weight a bit more evenly distributed between both massive palms. "This one practiced his art once, using weights on both arms and legs... Perhaps it is a bit similiar? When you are still, you wish to have the weight even on each limb. Then, depending on how your momentum flows, you can then shift positioning, move your muscles accordingly, and flow into different moves. Does this make any sense? Work with the weights, perhaps?" Stitch wasn't good at explaining. He gave a small shrug of his shoulders and an apologetic smile. "This one practices hand to hand combat as an art, though. Not staff fighting."