• Graded • Victories Are For Winners

Kydrel learns to spar

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Kydrel
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Victories Are For Winners

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Arch 713, 4th Trial of Ashan

Pain. Aching pain laced through the muscles in his wings and shoulders. Even his arm was sore, the swinging of his weapon taking more of a toll on his body than he cared to admit. It hurt his head even thinking about what it would be like to carry a full set of armor and fly. It would be a rough week.


Kydrel lay in bed, morning sunlight spilling into the hollowed out cave that he called home. High above the ground, carved into the Forest of Stone, the Avriel dwelt with the rest of his kind. Orientation had been completed the day prior and the physical beating they had received from each other from their duels still fresh in his memory.


But today was the day they actually learned technique.


The Avriel groaned as he rolled out of bed, gingerly flexing the muscles in his wings, wincing as they throbbed dully. He rolled his shoulder, kneading out the muscle with his other hand, hoping to loosen it up. It needed to be at least somewhat moveable for the training he was about to put it through. He already wanted to crawl back into bed and the day had barely even started yet.


The yellow eyed warrior went about his morning ritual quickly, wanting to get to the platform early. Maybe he could talk to a few of the trainers, get a few pointers. He fully intended on out doing all the rest. Hopefully the trainers would see that drive in him and he could have the chance to impress them. Tossing together a quick meal, he scarfed it down, fantasizing about the upcoming fights.


I’m probably not the best out of the group, seeing how things went with Elayan yesterday. But there is no chance I’m the WORST. I saw some pretty badly busted up people yesterday. You don’t look like that unless you are just plain terrible. I’d assume I’m at least in the top ten percent. Maybe fifteen.


Feeling a tad more confident about his win/lose fight the day before and having justified his purely hypothetical standing amongst his peers, Kydrel hurriedly dressed and snatched up his morning star, heading toward the entrance of his sparsely decorated cave, motivation starting to kick in. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the cool air rush through his nostrils into his lungs before releasing it into the wind. Without even bothering to look at the familiar view, the Avriel coiled the muscles in his legs and sprung off the ledge into thin air.


Kydrel dropped like a stone, plummeting through the morning air, a rush of exhilaration filling him, a rare grin spreading across his face. He never felt more alive than when flying. The thought of being land locked was horrifying to him. This was true freedom. But the ground was coming up fast.


The Avriel’s dark wings snapped open, catching the wind.


“Holy mother of Syroa.” He cursed in irritation and pain, his wings vehemently protesting against the strain. He pushed through it, hoping they would loosen up by the time he arrived. Kydrel angled his body, straightening out from his dive and gliding easily through the breeze. As much as he enjoyed the feeling that came with flight, he wanted to make it to training day early and so picked up the pace.


It wasn’t long before Dominion’s training grounds came into view. A scowl crossed his face as he drew closer, the stone column dotted with people milling around on it. Apparently he wasn’t the only one to think to arrive early. Clearly a bunch of brown nosing recruits trying to wheedle their way into the trainers favor. He exhaled loudly in frustration, gliding through the air, preparing to land. It didn’t matter. They might be earlier but he would prove to be the better fighter.


Landing on the edge of the stone platform, Kydrel hop skipped to a stop, tucking his achy wings against his back and strode forward, heading towards the group of Avriel, cloaking himself in an aura of annoyance. He didn’t feel like interacting with anyone, still irked at being outdone. Maybe if he played it cool and aloof people would hold back and leave him alone. The unknown was always something to question; if no one knew anything about him or was afraid to talk to him, he could use that intimidation factor to his advantage.


“OHHH HEY! IT’S KYDREL! MY NEW FRIEND! GREAT MORNING TO BE ALIVE, AM I RIGHT?!”


Or not.
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You have got to be kidding me…


Any sort of haughtiness he may have cultivated around himself was instantly shattered as the loud recruit from the other day spotted him and hurriedly made his way in Kydrel’s direction, drawing attention to them. Excitement lit the Avriel’s face and Kydrel groaned inwardly, not prepared to deal with such cheerfulness this early in the morning or ever, really. It was exhausting to even be in the same area. He resisted the urge to cover himself in his wings; it wouldn’t work and would only succeed in making him look foolish.


Kydrel slowly turned, his face carefully neutral. No need to express blatant dislike when it served no purpose. Maybe if he acknowledged him, he’d move on. He recalled hoping for the same results the day before. Vyndar practically bounced towards him.


“Ready for a day of training?! I’m so excited. I picked the dagger. Yes. I know what you are going to say. The dagger? Really? Lamest weapon ever. BUT…” He looked around with exaggerated conspicuousness. “But I’ma duel wield these bad boys. Sneak around and then BAM. STABBED IN YOUR FACE. I’m totally gonna’ learn how to dominate with them. Aha. See what I did there? Dominate? Dominion? Like our faction?”


Kydrel resisted the urge to claw out his own eyes, the chattering grating on him nerves.


Murder's not really frowned upon, right? “Accidental” stabbing happen all the time, I’m sure everyone would understand…Is he seriously still talking…He just does not shut up.


“Yes. Hilarious.” The dark winged Avriel replied blandly, hoping to subtly signal his lack of interest.


“Yeah…funny you should say that, my family says that all the time. Ha, once my-“


Kydrel abruptly spun, walking away. Vyndar’s voice trailed after him.


“Oh right! Yeah. I have to do some stuff too, good call. Solid talk!”


The warrior snorted, shaking his head in mild disgust. If the short Avriel didn’t kill his enemies, at the very least he could annoy them to death. Kydrel barely managed to resist the urge to kill himself in that one exchange.


Avriels began to crowd the marked arena, trainers beginning their descent from the sky. Kydrel quickened his pace, eager to start. One by the one the instructors landed. They wasted no time in launching into their work.


“Form up. Divide into three groups, Bludgeoning, ranged, and slashing.”


The trainees hurriedly jostled each other; Kydrel joining the turmoil, each fighting to get to their designated group. He finally broke free and stepped in front of his trainer, brilliant orange feathers carefully arranged, the picture of pristine. Three others joined him in front of her. Kydrel looked towards the other groups, noticing a large majority gravitating towards swords and other piercing type weapons. A smaller yet decent sized crowd made up the rest, armed with different sized bows. A familiar blue winged figure caught his eye holding a long bow. He caught himself staring at her and quickly looked away. He frowned, irked at how easily he found himself getting distracted. He had to stop doing that.


His attention was drawn back to his instructor however, as their training commenced. The woman stared at them coolly, one hand absentmindedly stroking the feathers on one wing. Most of their trainer seemed pretty intense, he noticed.


“My name is Lanesi. I will be your instructor for this rotation. Each rotation you will be learning a new skill. In this one, you will be learning the basic techniques used of blunt impact objects; both how to attack and defend yourself with one as well as against one.”


She paused, letting the information sink in. Kydrel took the chance to glance at his peers, his competition, weighing them against himself. One gripped a quarterstaff tightly, clearly nervous. Another had a large hammer held in two hands. The third held a flail. Kydrel groaned inwardly upon seeing it. That was going to be miserable defending against. His thoughts were interrupted as Lanesi started speaking again.


“Alright form up, one line, a wing span gap between each. We are going to go over basic stances.” The instructor paced in front of them as she talked.


“Stances are everything, especially with a heavy weapon. These are not swords, they are not evenly balanced. You will not be nimble. Your motions will be slower but they will be more powerful. A sword can slice you to pieces if you are unarmored. Armored, they have a much harder chance of gutting you. They have to rely on stabbing motions to get behind the chinks. Not so with a bludgeon. Any hit, armored or otherwise, with enough power, will do enough damage to slow them considerably if not disable them completely.”


Kydrel stared at her, drinking in her words. She noticed his gaze and her eyes bore into his, evaluating him. A few seconds passed before she turned away, leaving him unsure what she thought of him.


“You will need to deploy caution. Play defense until your moment comes. You will tire before them. Each strike needs to be calculated and precise. You aren’t a barbarian filled with blood lust, smashing everything in sight. Your weapon is heavier, it requires strength and momentum. But we will get to that soon.”


Her eyes flickered back to Kydrel’s.


“For now, get into your ready stance. We have a lot of work to do.”
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Kydrel faced off with Avriel holding the quarterstaff, both eyeing each other warily.


“My name is Velynar.” Dull yellow feathers covered the Avriel’s wings and head. Kydrel just stared at him coolly, not responding. Velynar shifted uncomfortably under the gaze. He was lucky though, their trainer interrupting the interaction.


“I want you to evaluate your opponent. Each person you face, you will need to scan your adversary, figuring out their strengths and weaknesses with just a glance. Go.”


Kydrel looked at the yellow Avriel, eyes narrowing.


Well. He holds his staff loosely in his hands, even in his ready stance. If I strike his weapon hard enough, I may be able to break his hold on it. Feet are too close together, he might topple. Hmm…


“You. What is your name.” the trainer looked towards his partner. He almost looked startled at being addressed.


“Uhhh, my name is Velynar.”


“What is your opponent’s weaknesses and strengthens.” His eyes widened slightly, his gaze shifting nervously towards Kydrel who stared at him coldly.


“Well…he… he looks a little stiff, not very mobile. And if he can’t move very fast, it’ll make swinging his weapon harder.” Anger flashed across Kydrel’s face and his partner saw it. His expression tightened and he continued hastily. “But he looks like he’s tough and can hold his own in a fight. The intimidation factor is working.”


Kydrel growled deep in his throat, both annoyed at the evaluation but also a little pleased. The trainer nodded. “Good, now fight.”


The two of them blinked in surprise. They assumed they would get instruction before they began. But apparently she had other methods. Kydrel burst into action, not wanting to waste the temporary stun that seemed to settle on them both. He swung his studded mace wide, gathering momentum towards Velynar’s head.


His opponent barely had time to react but managed to duck under it. Suddenly not striking anything to stop the momentum, Kydrel felt the weapon tug him around and he fought to keep it from spinning him around. Velynar took the opportunity to jab at him with his quarterstaff.


The blow caught Kydrel in the ribs and he grunted in pain staggering back.


“Don’t resist the momentum. If you miss a strike and the speed is too much for you to control, duck low and pivot on one foot, letting it carry you in a circle. Plant the foot and redirect the strike towards their legs. You have to have good balance otherwise it’ll make you fall but will surprise your enemy if executed well.” Their trainer apparently would give pointers as they fought.


Kydrel snarled at Velynar, collecting himself as his foe grabbed his weapon in two hands, holding it out in front of him. He lashed out with the left side, the wooden stick slashing diagonally across the air to strike Kydrel’s face. Lifting his mace, he caught the blow on his weapon, shifting so the head of his weapon over the staff, utilizing the trainer’s advice but in a different way.


He stepped back, allowing his opponent’s own momentum, to carry downward but as it reached the end, flicked it to the right. He grabbed his mace with two hands, bringing it over his head and chopped downward. It nicked the Avriel’s shoulder, causing him to yell in pain as the ridges grazed down his shoulder, scratching him badly.


He glared at Kydrel and ran, quarterstaff held in front of him like a shield. He shoved the staff forward hitting Kydrel, trying to force him backwards. Instinctively Kydrel grabbed the staff with one hand, trying to wrestle it away while his knee came up and drove it into the man’s groin. A sharp gasp and an explosion of air came from the Avriel’s mouth as it formed into a shocked O. He keeled over, staggering as he held himself with one hand, managing to prop himself up and keep from falling with his weapon.


The trainer watched critically.


“You would do better if you had a second weapon or shield in your off hand. It would allow you to block and then strike back rather than blocking with your weapon and have no offensive maneuver to exploit. Velynar, maybe not bum rush next time.”


She turned and walks towards the others.


“Alright. Switch.”
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Kydrel
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Kydel eyed the Avriel who held the flail, the ball resting on the ground, wooden handle in hand. His opponent was much, muuuuch bigger than the last trainee he fought.


That thing is gonna hurt like hell…though there is a good chance he has no idea how to use it…


Or so he hoped.


“Fight.”


Kydrel swiftly stepped forward, planting one foot forward, dropping the head of his weapon down and swung it upwards as hard as he could, hoping to incapacitate his opponent before the fight had time to escalate. But the large Avriel seemed to have a better grasp of his weapon than Kydrel have given him credit for.


Faster than Kydrel thought possible, the Avriel side stepped his mace, seeming to anticipate the strike, flail head still on the ground and wrapped the chain around the head of the mace. Before Kydrel had time to react, his weapon was jerked out of his hands and sent flying. It clattered to the ground half a dozen feet away, almost striking another student.


His face flushed red with humiliation at how easily he was disarmed but it quickly turned to anger. Completely unarmed, he was near helpless. He glanced at the trainer, assuming the fight was over but she just watched passively. Apparently he was wrong. His opponent lifted the flail and lashed out, momentum carrying the chain and lifting the ball up over his head. Kydrel barely had time to dive out of the way, landing on his face, the dense wood smacking the dirt with a thud.


The attacker barely paused before jerking it over his head again, intending to smash it into the unarmed avriel's stomach. Kydrel rolled, wings tucked against his back, flail smacking the dirt, the black winged figure narrowly avoiding it yet again. He grabbed a handful of the dirt as he rolled, tossing it at his opponent but even that failed to work. It didn’t even reach his eyes.


Kydrel scrambled to his feet, gasping for air, feeling exhaustion seep into his limbs, only to drop to the ground again as the flail was swung at waist level. He felt the wind from the blow ruffle the feathers over his neck. Before his foe had time to collect his weapon and strike again, Kydrel shoved off the ground and lunged for his studded mace.


Wrapping his long fingers around it, he had just enough time to roll onto his back and swat at the flail that came lashing down at his head. The chain caught on the head of the mace, slowing its descent but not enough to stop it completely.


The flail struck Kydrel directly in the face, knocking him out cold.


One break later


Consciousness came slowly, the first thing greeting him being a blinding headache.


Oh no…let me die…


Kydrel groaned, hand reaching up to touch his head, his face feeling as though it were on fire. He realized with a start that breathing came laboriously and he began to panic, struggling to rise, disoriented and confused.


Suddenly a figure appeared, hands subduing him and pushing him gently, yet firmly back into the bed he lay on.


“Whurr- whur amb I?”


He realized the majority of the pain was coming from his nose and side of his face. He reached up to touch it but the hand caught his and placed it back down by his side.


“Don’t touch that. You seemed to have taken quite the beating. You broke your nose and will have some pretty bad bruising on your face for the next handful of trials. Luckily it wasn’t worst.”


Kydrel realized he must have been in an infirmary. They must have taken him there after he was knocked out. He tried to get out of bed again, fighting against the pain. His vision blurried as he tried to push past the agony, the room spinning wildly. The last thing he remembered before the pain took him back under was the hands returning to push him back into bed, and the voice of the mysterious person speaking quietly next to him.


“You are in no place to leave. I suggest next time you want to avoid visiting here, you try not to lose.”


And then everything went black.
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Come and get your Loot!

(There's plenty more where that came from)


KYDREL SEVNIUM:
Skills:

  • Endurance +1
  • Intimidation +1
  • Melee Combat +2
  • Socialization +1
  • Observation +2
  • Tactics +1
  • Acrobatics +1

Knowledges:

  • Basic
    • Even Wings Ache From Practice
    • It Hurts Even More the Next Day
    • NPC: Lanesi, Bludgeon Trainer
    • NPC: Velynar, Sparring Partner
    • Testing the Mental Tactic of Staying Aloof
    • The Need for Stretching and Loosening Exercises
  • Specific
    • Being Disarmed Does Not End the Battle
    • Blending Armed and Unarmed Combat
    • Bludgeon Stance: Emphasis on Impact, not Finesse
    • Bludgeon Technique: Flow WITH the Momentum
    • Facing a Flail Wielder
    • Facing a Quarterstaff Wielder
    • Parrying a Chain Weapon is Very Different
    • Vyndar Annoys His Family As Well

Loot:

No loot to be had here, Sorry :(


Injuries:

Broken Nose and Concussion


Comments:

I know it's a memory thread, so the injuries will only affect you in a series of memories following this one. Further training will probably feature sparring partners using your injuries against you, unless you take time off to heal. But in this case you are behind them in practice. Good Luck...lol
PM me with any comments or concerns :)
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