The Myrian grimaced judiciously and nodded. Bad from, her arms were everywhere, and she was still lashing out... well, lashing. Not punching or striking, with economy of movement and precision backed up by muscle and experience.
He grunted, but it was directed at himself.
Oh, and you were Myri's Own Son the first time you stepped into the Training Yards?
"Not bad... Not bad..." He said, muttering the words and walking in a slow circle around her as appraised her, arms crossed. "But practice is all, female. Cannot just do at end of week or few times in season. Every day, practice. Every day, train. But-"
Razkar stopped again in front of her with a finger between them. A slow, feral smile split his lips open again, filed teeth glinting between them. He would leave her with one final lesson before he left; something less technical, but far more applicable.
"Never fight like Knight. Never fight with rule." He saw a brief flash of shock go across her face, that this savage would say such things, there of all places, the stronghold of The Order. "Rule get you killed. Rule hold you back, make you fight like other man want to fight."
A single hawked gob of spittle onto the salty stones told Shiress exactly what Razkar thought of the so-called "honorable combat" the bards and squires of Syliras venerated so much.
"Fight how you fight. Fight to win. As fast as you can, so enemy not get back up, and you are not hurt." He stepped forward, head tilted slightly to intensify his dark stare, boring the words into her memory. "Only thing to matter is you survive. Everything else... not matter."
The gulls cawed; decks creaked; men yelled and animals brayed and when Razkar found himself surfacing from that intense little tick, he found it was... late. Almost dark. He sighed. Why were the good days, the days of accomplishment and smiles, always so fast to leave them? Another one for the scholars, he supposed.
"Time for me to go, I think, Mistress Shiress," he said, bowing slightly as was the custom of his people, eyes lowered in deference to the female, "But I will see again... I hope, anyway."
The warrior's smile flickered a little uncertainly. Goddess... he really meant it. Bright, cheery, good company (though not entirely trustworthy), Shiress had been... pleasant company. Goddess, when was the last time he'd had any of that? Aside from Edri, of course...
He grunted, but it was directed at himself.
Oh, and you were Myri's Own Son the first time you stepped into the Training Yards?
"Not bad... Not bad..." He said, muttering the words and walking in a slow circle around her as appraised her, arms crossed. "But practice is all, female. Cannot just do at end of week or few times in season. Every day, practice. Every day, train. But-"
Razkar stopped again in front of her with a finger between them. A slow, feral smile split his lips open again, filed teeth glinting between them. He would leave her with one final lesson before he left; something less technical, but far more applicable.
"Never fight like Knight. Never fight with rule." He saw a brief flash of shock go across her face, that this savage would say such things, there of all places, the stronghold of The Order. "Rule get you killed. Rule hold you back, make you fight like other man want to fight."
A single hawked gob of spittle onto the salty stones told Shiress exactly what Razkar thought of the so-called "honorable combat" the bards and squires of Syliras venerated so much.
"Fight how you fight. Fight to win. As fast as you can, so enemy not get back up, and you are not hurt." He stepped forward, head tilted slightly to intensify his dark stare, boring the words into her memory. "Only thing to matter is you survive. Everything else... not matter."
The gulls cawed; decks creaked; men yelled and animals brayed and when Razkar found himself surfacing from that intense little tick, he found it was... late. Almost dark. He sighed. Why were the good days, the days of accomplishment and smiles, always so fast to leave them? Another one for the scholars, he supposed.
"Time for me to go, I think, Mistress Shiress," he said, bowing slightly as was the custom of his people, eyes lowered in deference to the female, "But I will see again... I hope, anyway."
The warrior's smile flickered a little uncertainly. Goddess... he really meant it. Bright, cheery, good company (though not entirely trustworthy), Shiress had been... pleasant company. Goddess, when was the last time he'd had any of that? Aside from Edri, of course...
