• Closed • Bird vs Wolf

[Kalortah]

60th of Ashan 720

Agrippa strode ahead of Kalortah, into the Proving grounds. It was another overcast day, miserable in all its dampness. Kalortah was wearing a set of leather wing valance, more to protect against the elements than anything else. He landed a few feet behind Agrippa as she headed off toward the spot where he was set to meet his fellow Councilor.

"So... who is this person you're to be fighting today?" Agrippa asked, quirking a scaley brow. "You're not going to start rattling off a set of rules of things that are off-target again, are you?"

She referenced, of course, she did, their own sparring sessions in Mid Cylus, when the anniversary of Kalortah's savage beating at the hands of Navyri had come around. It had been a harsh lesson, to think that he couldn't simply intimidate past just anyone, that sooner or later, someone would call his bluff.

"Don't be silly." Kalortah scoffed, dusting off the droplets of water from his valance. He then straightened his saber in its sheath, making sure it was able to be drawn at a moment's notice. Not that he'd be using it. He just needed a good comparison for the weight with whatever practice weapons they'd be using... He was under the assumption that it wouldn't be a live steel sparring match.

"You said it yourself, how am I to learn to fight real opponents, if I tell my sparring partners to pull attacks that they otherwise would?" He chuckled nervously.

She shrugged but smirked at him. The Wyvarnth was far too cheeky for his liking, but she was a capable woman, and Kalortah could appreciate in his own bodyguard, that he wasn't able to push her around.

She stood off to the side as Kalortah stretched his wings, his arms, legs while waiting for the opponent to arrive. He felt he had a good rapport with the Natural Affairs Councilor. If there were any of the crawler races that he could abide, it was the Sev'ryn. After all, it had been a Sev'ryn that taught him to sing.

Once he was confident that his muscles were warmed up, he took out his adamantite saber. He went through the practice guards that he'd learned. Staring with the low, and forward guard. When you had wings, most of your guards needed to face forward, lest you harm your wings with an errant slice.

Establishing the guard, he took a few test slices of the air. "But I don't know how well-rounded he is when it comes to combat? What if I use my battle cries against him? Will he then use his own secret weapons? This is why it's useful to draw parameters..." He murmured toward Agrippa, but she only chuckled in response.

[Nir'wei]

"Can you tell this blasted thing to slow down?!" Silk yelled in a shrill voice from over Nir'weis shoulder as Vabina thundered towards Scalvoris Town and the Proving Grounds that clung to its western edge - noticeable even from a distance thanks to its wide, sprawling expanse and the sounds of clattering steel that rung in the air as they drew near.

"Can you tell her to shut up, and stop digging those claws into my hide?" Vabina replied with a growl in the back of Nir'weis head. When he repeated the sentiment to Silk, the Ithecal's jaw looked like it was about to dislocate. "Yes, she can understand you," he announced with a tap to his temple. "Never presume they're not smart enough to hear what you say about them... and when we're in private, talk to them directly." Silk was still struggling in her new role, but he didn't hold it against her - there were a lot of oddities she'd have to get used to, least of all the large array of 'pets' at his disposal. Today, he'd chosen Vabina. The wet soil and unpleasant weather wasn't much of a match for her deep claws as they sunk into the dirt and churned it behind them.

Silk wore her usual set of light and durable leather armour under a very unassuming white robe and hood, marked with shield-shaped pins at the shoulders to keep it from fluttering even at their high speeds. It was an intelligent move, he'd admitted when she'd suggested it - apparently the Wyvarnth was no stranger to covert work herself, and lacking a particularly intimidating presence, it made sense to keep to the shadows until she would be needed anyway. Nir'wei wore nothing more than a shirt and trousers, both of which already appeared quite well-worn due to the thorough soaking they'd received on the way there. His Charm of Anonymity was tightly knotted into his loose hair and tucked behind one ear, keeping its steady stream of illusions but kept from view itself.

"We'll stop here and walk the rest of the way." They picked a quiet corner to properly dismount and where Vabina could quickly slip back into the Beneath without drawing any more attention than her mere appearance already had, and walked the final steps at a brusque pace. Inside, The Councillor of Foreign Affairs - Kalortah, he believed the name was - stood out like a sore thumb with wings already stretched and in mid-conversation with another Wyvanrth, whom he could only assume was either a very well-equipped personal assistant, or a bodyguard of his own, judging by the closeness and the equipment of each. "Are you going to stand next to me like that or am I going to--"

"She's gone." Archailist's voice in his head was startling-- almost as much as the fact he was correct. Silk had vanished as smoothly as her namesake and it was only after a brief moment of idiotic fumbling that he noticed a white-clad spectator at the upper levels, relaxed casually with arms folded in such a way that disguised both of her hands... which were no doubt already gripping the hilts of some menacing-looking throwing blades. "She's good." Yeah, no kidding. "You didn't even notice she'd gone, did you." Shut up.

Now came for the real test. He'd never had time to properly brief the Councillor about his... affliction. It must have looked strange for such a scruffy stranger to approach, but he made sure to do it slowly at least, raising his hand to show the Symbol of the Office of Natural Affairs settled comfortably on his left index finger. "Wonder no longer, Councillor," he smiled. "I just hope my lack of polish and flair doesn't disappoint. I'll happily confess that I take no joy in fighting, so I have never practiced it for the thrill or the preparation." His lips pulled wide enough to show a bit of teeth. "My lack of foresight of course utterly terrified my advisors, so they insisted I come and get kicked into the dirt a few times for my own good." Ahh, the small-talk, the jokes. The subtle acts of diplomacy already in motion. Strange how it had already infected so much of his life that his mind could not stray from them, even for a simple conversation.

Stretching his arms and legs in slightly exaggerated and unfamiliar motions, he nodded towards one of the nearby wooden racks. "I'm assuming you'll be taking a saber. Would you mind throwing a longsword my way? That one on the far left with the long handle should do just fine."

[Kalortah]

In truth, Kalortah was not put ill at ease with the Councilor's lack of fashion sense, or his scruffy appearance. It'd been a few seasons since Kalortah had risen above the rabble in terms of his own wealth, and from that time onward, he had issues recognizing distinctions between moderate poverty and extreme poverty. In any event, he knew well enough that these were not markers of ability in and of themselves. He would reserve his insults for when he had the superior position.

Kalortah had learned with much difficulty the cost of insulting random strangers, without knowing what they were capable of.

Agrippa excused herself as the other Councilor approached. After Kalortah returned his adamantite saber to its sheathe, she handed him a weighted version of the wooden practice sabers. It was a little heavier than his adamantite, but that would only help develop his muscles. Or so he presumed.

The avriel nodded toward Agrippa, allowing her to leave them, which she did shortly. Overhead, however, Kalortah's spirit owl was watching over the action as it flew.

The avriel skald picked up a long-hilted sword from the training rack and went over to hand it to his fellow Councilor. That done, he nodded to him, and then backed away, loathe to expose his wings lest the opponent takes the opportunity to exploit his position.

Kalortah wore leather valance, but that was not sufficient to protect him from fractures inflicted by a particularly heavy blow.

"Now, a few ground rules..." Kalortah began, in his imperious tone. "No hitting in the throat, or the face. I make my living by my voice, and so I'd appreciate being able to continue using it without interruption. No biting, no scratching. No pulling feathers or hair." Kalortah felt there was nothing unusual about his ground rules. They sounded perfectly reasonable to him.

So saying, he lifted the tip of the practice saber in front of him, while the other hand was positioned a few feet from his sword hand, ready to intercept or grab the other's sword blade if need be. "I don't suppose you have any prohibitions of your own?"

He waited a moment or two for the other man to tell him what they were, and if they met with his approval, they'd begin.

Kalortah began by spreading his wings, making himself look far larger than he was, at his 5'3" of height. It was an intimidation tactic that tended to work on small children and prey animals. It probably wouldn't do much to this... man, but it was worth a try to set him off guard.

He lifted the tip of his practice saber a few feet upwards, and then drew it downward in a slice, to try and make touch with his opponent's shoulder.

Still, his wings spread out as far as their wingspan would allow, far behind him. There was more of a purpose to that than he let on, but he would allow time for the other man to figure that out.

[Nir'wei]

Nir'wei nodded politely to the spirit owl and tested its weight; having never trained with one before, it felt oddly heavy in his hands, but a few swings found it reasonably well-balanced. "No strikes to the throat or face, no biting, scratching, feather-pulling or hair-pulling," he repeated crisply, running fingers down the dulled edge of the blade. "As for myself, none. I've got no appointments planned that could be hampered by a few bruises, and... well, it's not like they'll stay for long, anyway," he chuckled with a gesture. "Begin when ready." Gripping the training sword in both hands with the tip angled towards his opponent, he struck up a conventional stance to begin with; a little bit sloppy, when compared to some of the others of the arena, but he held steadfast as the Councillor flashed his wings. Nir'weis Sense of Prey tingled in his nose and told him that despite the display, Councillor Kalortah was closer to prey than the predator he attempted to make himself out as. Would it have been better to pretend to be cowed, perhaps step back? Probably, come to think of it. All these things were mind games as much as they were shows of physical skill, perhaps even more so. He inched forward half a step, looking to goad an attack, perhaps - and got what he'd hoped as Kalortah threw a horizontal slash, which his own sword lifted overhead to block.

The impact juddered through his hands and earned a very authentic wince. Karem above, was that what a simple strike felt like from these things? Suddenly, he felt hesitation rising - perhaps it would be better to avoid getting struck by them after all, and thank all that was good and fluffy they'd agreed to avoid hitting the face.

Returning the training sword to its original position and shuffling his feet in the sand, he eyed the other Councillor with suspicion. "Why are his wings out like that?" Splash queried over his shoulder, apparently very interested. "They look really pretty, but they must be pretty awkward and heavy like that." Wait... awkward. There was probably a trap lying in wait, some preparation to use his wings to hurl himself backwards or something when he went in for a strike - but if Nir'wei could land a hit before he managed to spring the trap, then he'd be able to press an advantage.

His hesitation likely looked odd, but he made up for it by a sudden surge forwards - two steps, getting as close as he dared to the other Councillor before lowering the blade until the handle rested just above one hip - and stabbed straight forwards for the gut in perhaps a bit of an over-eager frontal assault.

[Kalortah]

So they began.

Kalortah's grip on his saber rang through his hand as it was intercepted by the blade of the practice longsword that his opponent was using. He could sense that his opponent was feeling the effects of it as much as he was, yet Kalortah was of meager competence with a blade, having had a few practice fights and actual battles. He was well capable of anticipating the vibration of the grip.

That was merely a test, to see how well his opponent's reflexes were, and Kalortah was not disappointed with his decision not to press the advantage. Clearly the Councilor had combat training of a sort, for his reflexes to be so sharp, so he would approach him with due caution.

Yet the mortalborn avriel didn't have long to adjust, recover, and renew his attack before his opponent pressed the issue, bringing his longsword toward his center in a lengthy induction to a telegraphed thrust. And while Kalortah's wings were already spread and ready to disengage, he was not agile enough to avoid the thrust entirely, it connected with his side, stinging him there with it's blunted point.

"Ach!" He hissed as his wings flapped forward, throwing air buffets at his opponent while projecting himself off toward the side. As he was in motion, he swung his saber in a fending motion to keep the Sev'ryn from pressing another attack as he was on the move. It was more intended to keep him at a distance than to hit, and open the Sev'ryn up to his next attack. Kal tried to hide the fact that he switched the saber from his right hand to his left after that clumsy riposte. The switch went off somewhat shakily, but was good enough for him to open up with his next line of attack.

The avriel bard had some meager knowledge of unarmed combat, and thus thought to bring his wing around in a circular motion to whip at his opponent's upper arm. The intent wasn't so much to do damage, as to conceal his saber from view as it moved under the wing, and came forward to attempt a thrust at the Sev'ryn's ribs.

[Nir'wei]

It felt so strange. The act of fighting itself brought little joy. None of the red mist that he'd heard spoken of, none of the thrill of physical exertion that led men and women alike to hone their bodies to peak physical specimens. Nothing that he'd felt while hunting. There was, however, a certain satisfaction when their blades clashed and Nir'wei, for a moment, realised what he'd done - had that blade been real, it would have surely split his skull, but he'd stopped it. Between their weapons, they held the life and death of one-another in their hands, nothing but the power of their bodies and the wits of their minds to hold them. It was both a power and a safety. In that, it was similar to hunting; to prove his worth in the world and his right to survive. It just lacked a lot of the caution and preparation that came with it; like a chase that simply dragged on forever, testing endurance instead of forethought. Maybe that's why he didn't get it. Too human, not enough animal.

What if he changed that?

It was clear that as the thrust came forwards, Kalortah had been somewhat prepared for it, since he moved as it swung - his only folly came in not moving fast enough to avoid it entirely, and Nir'weis arms reverberated once again with the softer impact of wood on flesh. If it had been a real sword he would have pushed the advantage to sink it even deeper, but the blunted tip would provide no such entry, and instead he let the buffets of wind push him back a step, out of the path of the next guarding strike. Another opening, just behind it, that a faster and more effective swordsman should have pushed and used, but the unwieldy lump of wood in his hands was far too heavy to thrust in time. If not for preservation of his forearms, he would have much preferred the use of his bare hands. Instead he returned to the same pose as before, tip pointed slightly upwards as he'd been shown, prepared to guard for the next attack and perhaps launch a quick counter right afterwards.

Intentions meant nothing in this game of life, though. Of all things, a wing was what next came. Was Kalortah pivoting? Why a wing, of all things - that he knew from experience with flying beasts should be the most frail of all parts. He could have cut it clean off! And yet, the thing was fast. Instead of a full-bodied swing, he could only turn his sword towards the wing to guard defensively, making sure that it would strike the wooden edge instead of his shoulder - and in the process, he completely missed the sabre hidden underneath that slipped beneath his guard and jabbed right in the side of one of his ribs with its tips.

It was a good strike. Pain spiked through the side of his ribcage and the Sev'ryn wheezed for breath, winded, while he quickly drew his training blade down to hastily push it away.

He needed more ground. Stepping back and waving his blade tight to his waist to gain a little more ground, he coughed in an attempt to catch his lost breath and blink away the tears in his eyes. Damn the man.

[Kalortah]

Kalortah thrilled as he felt the tip of his sword hit the other councilor's ribs. While he hated the idea of being wounded or, worse, marred by an untimely injury or scar, he enjoyed the light joy of battle. There was something romantic about it, putting aside what old grizzled soldiers said of the horrors of conflict. At least swinging wooden sticks was fun, and bore the opportunity out to exercise some catharsis. And he could pretend that war was something fun, glorious even.

It didn't occur to him that his wing was now in a vulnerable position. At any rate, the other councilor gave ground, and began backing off. It was a good opportunity to press the advantage! Unfortunately for Kalortah, that meant that he let down his guard as he closed ground, whipping his wings behind himself, out of reach of attack while he swung wildly with his wooden stick.

The deception that had been so well employed previously goaded Kalortah into recklessness, which was, it must be admitted, the avriel's natural inclination. As he charged the diminutive man, his blade was held high, exposing his lower body. He brought the stick down at the last moment, to tap his opponent on the shoulder and hopefully force him to yield this round.

As he approached, his red wings were splayed out in full, brilliant expanse in an attempt to further distract him. He shouted a warcry, using his powerful and beautiful voice to further intimidate the Sev'ryn. "Fall now!" He decreed as he arrived within measure, and tried to hit his opponent on the shoulder.

[Nir'wei]

He'd wanted some extra ground to return to the guarding pose and prepare for the next brief skirmish, with an added bit of caution for the Councillor's creative use of his wings - but he had to admit, he was slightly shocked by the sudden forward-charge - even with a little boastful cry of impending victory, while the sword was held high overhead like some giant axe. Did the Councillor understand how bizarre it looked? Was it another bit of deception to goad him into striking, only to leap to the side and deliver some quick combination blow to his outstretched arm? For a moment, he genuinely thought so, but the look on Councillor Kalortah's face was either an expert rendition of a motley fool, or he really didn't seem to care that he was about to be skewered like a stuffed pig.

The need to take his guard utterly forgotten, he halted his retreat mid-stride and pushed off with his back foot, wooden stick point-up and aimed straight for the man's sternum for a straight stab into the gut. In a brief moment of inspiration, he even tilted the tip so that it'd dig under the ribcage. Then, all that mattered was bracing himself... because with the speed the Councillor seemed to employ in his attempt to close the gap, there was a pretty good chance trying to stop him head-on would send them both flying if he didn't.

He hadn't even given any thought to what might happen with the other man's sword, should it fall on his shoulder or head. He hadn't even thought about what he might do after this to press the advantage. It seemed such a solid blow that he even winced at the thought of taking it himself, with the dull ache still panging in his side... and nothing Silk had mentioned prior to their fight had really prepared him for something like this, either. She'd talked of quick skirmishes, focusing on speed and techniques over strength and overconfidence. In a real fight, after all, a single blow in the right spot was all it'd take to ruin a man's life, if not end it.

[Kalortah]

Kalortah, it had to be said, was no tactical genius. While he could swing a sword well enough to get by, he was known to make the occasioanl blunder in a fight. Something about a practice fight brought the reckless streak out of him, whereas in real battles he'd been much more cautious, using his ability to fly to keep well away from danger before he was sure he could dispatch a foe.

So when Nir'wei sneakily held his sword in a bracing maneuver, angled upward so as to collide with the avriel's ribcage, he barely noticed it. Not until it was too late. The tip of Nirwei's practice sword made contact with the bone. Thankfully for Kal, he was light on his feet, and light in every sense of the word and wasn't able to generate quite enough momentum into the charge to break his rib. But Immortals above and below... It hurt!

As the tip of the sword hit his rib, a shock of pain lanced up his ribcage, overwhelming Kal with the pain of it. His instinct was to flap his wings, and create a void between himself and the councillor. He almost dropped his sword, the pain was bad enough,but he held fast to it. If the avriel's blade hit any part of Nir'wei, it would've done so with little to no force, due to the surprise of the Sev'ryn's thrust.

Kalortah's wings flapped, buffeting Nir'wei with a gust of wind as he made distance between them. Kalortah cried in pain as he disengaged. Yet he didn't expect the councillor to give ground at that. He readied himself for the other man's followup attack, correcting his guard and cursing his prior foolishness at charging.

Live and learn, eh? Kalortah was satisfied with the lesson suffered in safety of training. Had this been a real fight, he'd be as good as dead.

[Nir'wei]

The judder of the impact ran all the way up to his shoulders; he couldn't have asked for a more solid blow in a more compromising position. If they'd have been real swords, it would have skewered the man through with about the same amount of force. Even he winced from the sympathetic pangs rushing through his stomach at the thought of feeling it himself. Plus, didn't Avriel have hollow bones, like birds? Was there a risk of some kind of internal rupturing if he went too hard? "... You wanna stop there?" Nir'wei asked, letting the tip of his sword drop for a moment to a more relaxed pose. Even though this was supposed to be battle training, they were still Councillors, not soldiers; it would simply be bad sportsmanship, not to mention severely unprofessional, to do something as serious as beat a fellow Council member's skull in during such a trivial matter.

Kalortah was overconfident, brash, flaunting and completely without self-preservation instincts. A paper tiger, he'd heard them called before by a few. A deer that thought themselves a wolf, he thought was a little more apt, though he didn't say it. If this was a fight to be taken seriously, despite his lack of skill and talent with a blade, simply waiting for the next series of openings and taking them one at a time in a patient and methodical wearing-down would do the trick without fault. As long as he didn't get lucky and pull out more of those feints with his wings.

"It was a good exchange. You caught me once, I caught you once." In fact they'd both caught each-other under the ribs, and Kalortah had done it first. "I think we can both count each-other as good as dead from that... and I have to admit, those wings really do catch a man off, despite their frail appearance." It wasn't meant as an insult, even though he made no apology for it. "Though I'm curious why you choose to use a sword and not something more suited for your advantages... like a spear." Was it due to his flamboyance? "It might not allow as much range in its effectiveness, but in my opinion, it would benefit you much more than that sword ever would. Especially given your style of near-aerial combat."