[Training Yards] Answering the Call

[Eztli]

16th Summer, 513 AV Word was spreading through the city that the Taloban Army was increasing recruitment. Eztli, having recently completed her three years of mandatory service, still felt the twinge of obligation when there was need. Besides, being a soldier offered many opportunities for bloodshed and to add to the ever-growing collection of carpal (and maybe tarsal if she got frisky) bones dangling around her neck. Before long, Eztli was going to have to start tying them into her hair. That morning, Eztli was wearing a simple linen chemise dyed in a dark forest ombre that faded towards white near her waist. It was accompanied by a simple loincloth and a pair of dark, mud-colored boots. A kukri, currently sheathed, hung from her hip. Around her neck was a necklace composed of eight pristinely cleaned wrist bones, harvested from one of her ancestors. It swung on a thin wire just below the typical crimson tattoo across her throat that spread from ear to ear and was only fully visible should she look up. Her hair, black and long, was pulled into a messy warrior’s braid down her back. Two dark scars angled in on her eyes and reached completion near the bridge of her nose should she close her eyelids. Eztli’s eyes were fierce, but her expression was that of a seasoned warrior: hardly any emotion cracked through the otherwise tough, tanned skin. Returning to the familiarity of the training yard on the early morning of the sixteenth day of summer, Eztli of the Slitted Throat took in the constant hustle and bustle around her with a deep sigh and a toothy smile. These were the sounds she had been used to for the past three years; these were the sounds of comfort and normality. She was bred to disembowel anything that stood in her way, and nothing felt more at home and at peace than the living among fellow organized killing machines. Eztli made her way through the training yard, careful to avoid any training exercises that might have been going on at the time. An expertly wrought path through the outer sections would lead her to an area designated for recruitment. She hadn’t been away for long; a few seasons at best. Approaching someone who was not busy, Eztli stated flatly, ”Eztli of the Slitted Throat. I’d like to re-enlist.”

[Traverse]

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Two amber eyes glanced up from a roster written in charcoal. The tanned male who held her gaze looked fairly battle hardened, a jagged scar running along his jaw, and dark circles beneath his eyes as he observed the prospective solider.

"Re-enlist? Good, we have need of one's who've had a go around."

He scribbled down Eztli's name upon the roster and shouted over his shoulder.

"Imar, you said you needed just one more, right?"

Somewhere an answering reply, muffled was returned, and the male grunted. "Welcome back to Myri's embrace, sister, if you wait out in the yard you'll meet your new fang leader."

It took only a moment for the female that must have been Imar to emerge from the shadows of the barracks. Her hair was tight to her head, and dark eyes seemed to find Eztli in the briefest of instances. In one hand was a cudgel with wicked looking metal spikes that she swung lazily from side to side.

"Fresh meat?" She was looking straight at Eztli, but her question was answered by the male.

"Been through the tenderizer this one."

Imar nodded sagely and stepped forward so only a few feet separated her and the re-instated soldier.

"I like to get a feel for my crew, get a gauge of them you know? I hear humans talk about it...but..."

And then, without much of a warning at all except the shifting of her feet in a ready stance, Imar swung the cudgel directly at Eztli's head. It seemed that training had already begun....again.
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[Eztli]

Eztli did not utter a single word in response to the man who took her name and put her back into the fold of the army. A mere nod was all she afforded to the attendant, eyes following the shout for Imar, scanning… trying to figure out where she was. No obvious indications given, Eztli gave the male a smile and another nod.

”Thank you.”

That was painless. Her previous experience however truly indicated that it would not be so for long. Moving back to the yard, Eztli waited, arms folded in front of her, feet spread about shoulder width apart and merely observed all that went on about her, waiting for the new fang leader. It only took a moment or two before Imar appeared, weapon of choice in her hand. Eztli’s eyes followed its movements for a moment before returning to the fang leader, the male who had conscripted her answering the initial question of how wet around the ears she was.

Eztli could feel the hot breath of Fang Leader Imar on her face, but the Myrian didn’t flinch. Flinching was for the new enlistees. Her eyes merely snapped up to meet Imar’s head on, her hands unclasped and fell to her side. No weapon was drawn, obviously – she did not expect much of what would come next. The shift of the feet gave a small amount of warning or tell for Imar’s actions but the swing of the cudgel was hardly forecast at all.

Eztli’s instincts kicked in as she dropped into a crouch, left hand hitting the ground while the right drew the Kukri from its sheath. She was not entirely flexible or as fast as she would have liked to have been, but as soon as the knife was loosed and brought into a reverse grip, Eztli’s left hand shot out above her, elbow slightly bent to absorb impact, palm open with the anticipation of grabbing or blocking an additional swing of the cudgel. The kurki was brought up at an angle – long shoulder side facing Imar – with the intention of catching her across the thigh. With any luck, this motion was supported by the thrust from her legs as she collected herself into a more readied stance as close to her superior to remove the advantage of leverage.

As she finished, Eztli’s left foot slipped forward slightly on the ground, knees bent. Left arm out to protect, right arm holding the kukri slightly higher with the intent of bringing the recurve down across the arm of the next swing, Eztli fully intended to grab the instructor’s cudgel arm and rip the blade’s teeth across it. “Holding back” was not something exactly bred into a creature meant to kill.

[Traverse]

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Imar was straight faced, cold as stone as Eztli swung in and pressed the offensive. If the fang leader was impressed, or even a little surprised, neither of these emotions showed. It would seem the cudgel might have been unwieldy, not as fast as a blade or a knife like Eztli's kukri, but it seemed no problem for the battle hardened leader.

A thwack of metal on wood was met with Eztli's attempt at Imar's thigh, a blow which the fang leader shoved off to the side, spinning with the momentum of the counter.

There was a thunk of weapon hitting the ground, and instead of the vicious swipe of the Kukri coming down upon Imar's arm, she found the blade pressed firmly in between her fang leader's hands. Though the attack had been caught effectively, there was a strip of blood along the fang leader's hands where the blade had shaved off a layer of skin in the attack.

Imar took a step back, unarmed, and lapped the blood off of her hand.

"Vicious...more than a bit sloppy, but nothing that isn't expected after you've been lazing around under palm leaves all day since you left our service, Eztli of the Slitted Throat." The Myrian grinned.

"But I don't have the time to train you out of your flaws, more pressing concerns you see. You'll be giving all you can to one of your new fang mates."

Her finger gestured at the male that had recorded Eztli's name. He had already been in the yard, picking out his weapons, a hand axe in his belt and a dirk in his hand. When he joined the two females he gave the slightest inclinations of the head in deference, and grinned at Eztli.

"Kellin of the Patient Shadows, at your service."

Imar shoved the male roughly and paced off without so much of a good bye, and Kellin took up a ready stance.

"Alright Eztli, what other weapons do you use...what are your strengths, where do you fail? A fang is only so good as its weakest member, and these are things we need to know."

He did not hammer in as Imar did, but instead waited for the new enlistee to make the first move.
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[Eztli]

As the less experienced Myrian anticipated, Imar was far more prepared for the short spar than Eztli could have ever been. No emotion was read on her face but expression was not something the fellow combatant actually focused on. The slash at the thigh was countered with the cudgel and Imar followed through. Eztli straightened in response, but the cudgel was already on the ground.

Instinct caught Eztli as she slashed viscously at the Fang Leader but all too soon the blade stopped, pressed between her palm. In that instant all of the violence washed out of Eztli’s face and she relaxed, pulling the blade back to her side as Imar let go and licked her wounds. The kukri didn’t find its way back into the sheath. She shook her head at the comment in sad agreement. She had become sloppy.

An inclination to Kellin was all she afforded as Imar stormed off.

”Well met then, Kellin of the Patient Shadows.” Eztli responded with the inclination.

”I fear it has fallen to disuse, but I have always favored the double bladed sword and the khopesh as secondary and tertiary weapons. I’d say if anything, the kukri and being light on my feet are strengths. Versatility… not so much.”

Eztli once again slid her feet apart into a similarly ready stance, one forward and the other back. The kukri arched up above her head in her right hand and the left came across her body to quasi-guard. A twitch of the empty hand issued to Kellin was all the warning she gave and once again was on the offensive. Eztli was not, obviously… patient. The forward foot hammered into the ground and she brought the kukri forward – teeth side down towards Kellin’s opposite arm, her right side spinning towards him. The intent was to catch the fang mate’s arm and cut across it quickly. Her left hand followed through to shove it in towards his body at the upper arm. As the empty hand came to follow through the kukri finished by arching up towards Kellin’s neck.

Eztli felt she needed to prove herself after the sloppy nature of her assault on Imar. Whether or not it would be successful was a completely different story. At least this wasn’t training with another weapon yet… The kurki was the most familiar and thus what she felt the need to demonstrate she kind of knew what she was doing.

[Traverse]

Kellin did not have the sure foot work and grace of his fang leader, but it was clear he was a product of long military service as well. His dark eyes watched the Kukri warily, metal clanging off of metal as he parried the blow to his arm.

His body twisted to avoid the blow to his neck, but the blade succeeded in nipping at his skin. It was clear he was on the defensive, pressing Eztli for information about her weapon, but not with the same vigor as Imar. He twirled his blade, fingers nimbly moving the hilt along his fingers, making a blatant stab for her gut.

The attack was strong, but easily blocked, while on the other hand, her opponent had other plans. Twisting his body somewhat, Kellin slammed his right foot down upon Eztli's left, a classic feint to test her observation.

"Khopesh, aye? That's a barbarians weapon that is."

He returned to a ready stance and glanced at the wicked curve of her Kukri.

"Can you throw that thing? Don't know much about em." It could have been a test, but his face looked genuinely curious...perhaps it was simply an innocent question. Regardless of her answer the male came in on the offensive this time, using his hands and feet as well as the dirk. He drove his fingers outward in a point toward her neck, rotating to slash with the blade horizontally across Eztli's stomach, assessing her ability to defend as well as attack.e
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[Eztli]

As the foot collided with her own, Eztli grit her teeth and growled, attempting to suppress the pain. She had succeeded in nicking Kellin, something that had previously brought a smile to her face but for a second. She had fallen for the feint initially, moving to block the stab to her gut, confused as to why he would make such a move. It was only at the last second that Eztli tried to jerk her foot out of the way and the pain had quickly made itself known in the base of her toes.

A barbarian’s weapon? Eztli was a lot like her twin in that they preferred vicious or menacing weapons. Neither sister was much one for finesse, and Eztli had rolled her shoulders slightly in reply. As for throwing the thing, the female Myrian relaxed back into her own stance, one foot more forward than the other.

”Yes, its light enough to be thrown.” Kukris could be thrown in a pinch and Eztli had tried before but was not necessarily very practiced at it. She gave Kellin a grin, one that lasted as the man went on the attack. When the jab came for her neck, the Myrian instinct rotated her own footing back away from the arm and leaned her neck out to avoid the motion. The rotation gave a slight tell for the coming slash at her stomach with the dirk, which Eztli attempted to counter with the Kurki, coming down across her body to meet the slash and using the curved underside of her weapon to push the slashing dirk away, as if to bend Kellin’s elbow back in on itself.

From there, Eztli’s free hand went to shove the elbow back to fully negate the blow as the Kurki, now in a shorter grip than before as she choked up on the hilt, was brought back away from the dirk and redirected higher at the man’s collar bone. Another block was expected on his end, but the female Myrian was hoping she had exposed his side enough that an accurate block would have been difficult. Her free hand went back across her chest, slightly lowered towards her torso in anticipation of a counter slash from the dirk.

[Traverse]

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Her parry, pressing the dirk back against him made the male shuffle backwards on his feet, trying to give up as little ground as possible. By pressing against her, blades screeching with pressure, he was able to twist out of the attack, but only just, a long breath heaving from Kellin's breath as he made an almost jokingly exaggerated flourish with the dirk, sliding it into his belt.

"You are strong and watchful, two good things to have. Let's see you with this Khopesh."

He gestured to the weapon's rack, and as he did so, drew the hand axe out of his belt, flipping it around in his hand to get a feel for the vastly different weight the weapon brought to bear. A few shouts and curses echoed from the other side of the training yard, but it seemed that most fangs were out and about. Somewhere a drill instructor was cursing to new bloods, making Kellin smirk as he waited for Eztli to come at him again.

This time he held the axe diagonally across his body, holding the sharp end inward...for unknown reasons, at least for now.
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