Taunting laughter [Sam & Emi]

[Erzotol Silverden]

2cd of Summer, 511 AV

The sun crested over the horizon, dusting the land across with a golden glare, and a smile came to his face. It was so relaxing seeing the sun's first rays and even a practical man like himself could see the beauty at witnessing such a thing. His family had chosen to camp on the fringes of the moving city, keeping up with the tides of people in favor of a safer life, and better training in the war pavilion. There Erzotol stood, fully dressed for battle, his bow slung over his shoulder strung, and his longsword belted at his hip. He planned on dropping by the War Pavilion today to get in some hard training, and decidedly he wouldn't stop till the sun set.

Warrior’s blood flowed through him, and since he had arrived in Endrykas, besides a personal visit the first of summer, he had been in intense training, working out till near exhaustion, just to start all over the next day. One thought drove him, he had to get better, he needed to get better more than anything, to prove that he was worth his weight and he could protect his family. Maybe then that nagging feeling of guilt would quit plaguing him, or the every yearning to adventure finally be sated. He didn't think it would ever find a end though, for that was how the lust of battle went, and he could no more change it than he could his own heritage.

A long slow exhale expelled the breath from his breast, and with one last look to the sunset he was off, making his way towards the war pavilion, more eager than ever to dispel the shadows that hung over him with combat.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el was without pavilion, but he had the Watch. He was Sama'el of the Sapphire Clan and the Watch, and that was a deal of honor for any man of the Drykas horseclans to bear, even if his name was dead until such time as he might raise the great tent, the pavilion, make children, tend a herd of horses, turn a profit, and impress those of his fellow Drykas who knew him. Eldon had fled after losing one parent and a Strider. After time to think, Sama'el couldn't blame him. He had lost his whole pavilion, a beautiful Strider stallion, and his life, and it had taken him all but ten years to recover and return to his native home. Still he was not whole. Still there was the chip on his shoulder, the need to prove himself Drykas enough, let alone Ankal material... He sweat shirtless in the early summer sun by the War Pavilion, honing his skills with the curved scimitar, his stance set by sure feet, blade held low in a relaxed grip. Slowly, he moved with the breeze of the Sea of Grass. His blade moved up and down as his legs crossed carefully, feet finding the surest ground by feel alone. But he reacted to invisible opponents, the ghosts of the men who had made ghosts of his family, and his guard came on high like a hawk surveying the field, his guard coming very high, his scimitar held over the head with both hands in a standard grip, point high. Leaving his body completely open, he followed with a series of powerful downward strikes, allowing momentum to assist the blade down and up again for each consecutive blow to the heated air. Then he brought the curved blade, which seemed to crave constant, circular motion, into a whirlwind effect, a full circle turned before he came back to his guard. Next he made a strong chest thrust before pivoting to kneel while thrusting at a second opponent, preventing these ghosts from killing dead Hasieran. There were days when he could meditate upon the Web, and thought perhaps his wisdom was increasing, but there were also days where he was just a lad of eighteen seasons wanting nothing more than vengeance for his blood for all that he knew it would not, could not bring back the dead.

[Emizal Silverden]

The morning sun was always breathtaking, but not as beautiful as this morning. Emizal watched as the morning rays danced off the grasses. Warm pools of golds and yellows surrounded her in all directions. She laid her hand out and gently aloud the grasses to dust it, she was in a state of solitude, she felt as if she was the only person in the world to set foot in these lands. The sun kissed her skin, blessing it with warmth, as she walked the maze of grasses. "Emizal Silverden" it was a husky voice one from her past. Hairs on her neck jump with a shock of knowing, turning around slowly she saw a man..."father?" and then she awoke Blue eyes opened and blinked several tears away. He was there, always there in her dreams. She wanted nothing more then to close her eyes and steal a few more seconds with him. Just a few more. But knowing that even if she tried sleep would escape her. Her eyes glanced at all her belongings in bags on the floor, her dirty cloths she worn traveling, things, sighing she looked out to the pavilion. It was past first sun by several minutes, she could tell from the orange glow that shown through the tents walls. Also for the absent of movement from her family. She didn't get home till late last night, only her mother knew she was home. It was rather pointless, going off like she did just a year before. She came up empty handed, she always hoped her father just abandoned them. Started a family away from them. That way she could be angry at him instead of sad for the loss of him. But now she was sure her father was dead. " As long as I can remember him." A yawn escaped her mouth as she stood for the day, her legs were sore from the riding and back ache from the nights of sleeping on hard ground, but over all she was in good shape. Still she couldn't shake off the dream of her father. It seemed to real for her. Standing in a white sleeping gown, she exited her corner of the pavilion, she hoped to find her eldest brother. But instead found her mother. Her mother was beautiful, strong and loving. She was the first wife of her father, his first love. A sad smile came to Emi's mouth. Her mother never was the same after his untimely leave.  "morning mother" Emi spoke as she went and joined her at the front if the pavilion. "how did you sleep?" Her mother smiled and patted the seat next to her "well now that all my children are home."  Emizal took the seat next to her mother and leaned her head on her shoulder, "brother already left for today didn't he?" there was a hint of sadness in her voice, Erzotel always left before the sun graced the world. "yes left just a few minutes ago, off to train, you should be able to find him at the war pavilion." her mother knew of the bond they shared, they always shared even while away from each other. " shall I fetch clean cloths for you to wear?" she looked down at her daughter, knowing better then to ask what was the matter, after all if she wanted to share it with her she would say something, " I'll let you borrow some of mine till we can get yours washed." Emizal smiled at her mother "That would be wonderful," she stood up and went to go back in her room when her mother grabbed her shoulders and guided Emi to the floor in front of her feet. "Let's start with your hair, then you can go off as you please." Emizal's mother started to braid, as she hummed.  An bell past and finally she was done. Emizal's hair was pulled up in tiny braids, skillfully done in circle patterns, only leaving one braid down the back if her neck. "thank you mother," she turned around and kissed her mothers cheek, "now I must be going." Emizal stood and walked back into her room, her mother went to fetch her clean cloths for the day. She examined the breads and smile, her mother loving as she always have been, holding on to what was dear to her. Emizal couldn't help the warm smile that spread on her face.

[Erzotol Silverden]

Even this early in the day, steel flashed from the war pavilion, faces Erzotol didn't know, but he was not uncomfortable. He did not go out of his way to be social, but neither did he ignore people that spoke to him. His eyes set upon one such stranger, a man with a curved blade with a wicked edge, fighting unseen targets that surrounded him. Times when Erzotol trained alone, he never chose to fight unseen targets, it made it very hard to concentrate on his blade, but seeing this man fight as if possessed spoke that maybe he had judged it too soon. Slowly he continued walking, the reddish, gold sun framing the warrior before him, and relaxed he walked with his hand on the hilt of his blade, making sure not to startle the man, or disrupt him from his training. He cast the scimitar about with skill, he wasn't fresh with the blade obviously, but likely he wasn't completely one with it either. Erzotol had seen warriors of that caliber fight, and it truly was a sight to behold. Dreams of one day obtaining that which the man displayed ran hot desire through his blood, and seeing this man fight, he wondered if something similar drove him.

For the moment he watched the man train until he had noticed his presence. His heart beat faster in his chest, more than eager to join in the same practice, but he calmed himself to keep his voice deep, and sure. " Fine maneuvers friend, but wouldn't you much rather join blades with me than fight the wind? " he said, extending out his arm to shake the man's arm in the usual greeting.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Part of a warrior's training was awareness, so he was keenly aware of the other man's approach, though he didn't stop his forms until the other man spoke, and then the whirling dervish dance stopped, his point hovering low without touching the ground. His breathing wasn't wildly out of control, which spoke to his practice. He smiled with good humor and taunted the man back. "Are you a better swordsman than Zulrav Himself?" he asked, then slung the blade over his shoulder so he could clasp wrists with the other warrior. Sama'el was tall, but lithe with whipcord muscle over his bones, not as big and strong as this one. Still, strength was not the only factor in skill at arms. "I'd be happy to spar with you. My name is Sama'el of the Sapphire Clan. And the Watch. Whatever happens, tell Inaril I bet you." He winked and stepped back, assuming a neutral position, somewhere between a cautious guard and an offensive stance.

[Emizal Silverden]

Emizal stood in the pavilion looking at her toys from childhood, they were no longer her of course, she gave them to her little sister. But looking at a doll now brought memories back of her father. She was about to pick the doll up when her mother walked in with cloths folded in her hand. Emizal looked away and smiled at her mother as she took the folded up cloths. As her mother left the room she looked back to the floor at the small doll face smiling up at her, she kicked it away and looked back to the cloths and held them out. "what?! A Dress really!" she rolled her eyes and looked to where she left her dirty cloths the night before, only they were not there. "great, this should be interesting." her mother seemed to forget that she was off to the war pavilion. Emizal dawned on the dress her mother left, "this will be a first for me, shooting arrows in a dress..."  she quickly grabbed her bow an arrows before her mother could come back with beads or something. Walking out of her family pavilion she sighed a sigh if relief, she turned back and looked back and started a light jog to the war pavilion, where she hoped to find her brother.   Soft voices brought her to a stop, she saw a man, she quickly examined him, shirt off, young and well toned with a curved scimitar. Then her brother, he was as large as she remember, defiantly had the upper hand when it came to size, but the young man seemed squirrelly and more capable of a fight. Emizal almost called out to him but decided to watch, she was curious to see what would transpire in a skirmish. Emizal sat down her bow and crossed her arms, this will be fun to watch.

[Erzotol Silverden]

" Zulrav you fighting eh? Well then if you’re strong enough to fight with the storm, I fear I will find myself outmatched " he said in a friendly tone, and slowly he moved his hand to the hilt of his sword. " I am Erzotol Silverden of the Diamond Clan, pleased to meet you Sama'el of the Watch. " With a hiss of steel on leather he drew his sword out to its length, and held it straight up before himself. He had seen the man fight for a bit, using moves Erzotol never thought of, or even practiced, though that could be explained by his lack of practice lately, a matter he was hoping on remedying. The man's skill was obviously greater than his, but maybe he could hold off enough time not to embarrass himself to the warrior. Each of them had a advantage of sorts, his being his raw strength and size, and the warrior before him being lithe and most likely much quicker than he was, and with his rather poor swordsmanship, that gave the man the advantage. The only thing he had over Sama'el was that he didn't know how good he was with a blade, and perhaps that would give him a few moments of respite before being knocked on his butt, or otherwise taken out of the spar. With one hand behind his back, he unstrapped his shield, letting it fall to the ground, before picking it up, and sticking the longsword point first in the dirt.

He swallowed the gathering saliva in his mouth, and closed his eyes slowly before opening them, his muscles tense, and ready for action. All of a sudden his body snapped into motion, raising the sword high above his head as he strode forward, and bringing it down in a vicious swipe. He was not used to such maneuvers though so the sword came down clumsily, angled to the side in such a way that depending on the way the man parried it would either knock him backwards just to try to keep his grip on the hilt of the sword, or if he tried a diagonal parry the blades could possibly lock in such a way that left him at a disadvantage, since he didn't know what to do in such locks. If he was knocked back though, he would awkwardly try to spin, the maneuver making him end up on one knee instead of standing toe to toe with Sama'el, and he would throw up his right arm, using his sword in a simple blocking motion while cursing silently that he had forgotten his shield. The position put him at a severe disadvantage to his opponent, not only giving him a height advantage, but also putting Erzotol on the defensive, something he was hampered in doing without his shield. If their blades locked, Erzotol would try simply putting his weight on the sword, hoping to overpower the man, and push him backwards, but if the blades did something else entirely such as if he missed his swing, or something else, he would try and struggle to compensate for the lack of contact, and swing around to his opponent to defend against a attack that was surely coming.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"Someday perhaps Zulrav will actually appear to lesson me, and if I survive, I shall be the greatest swordsman of the plains," he said with a smile, sure that if he survived such a fight, it be chalked up to divine mercy rather than skill at arms. But he would have relished the attention of the god, one of whom had helped the Drykas people out of the caves and back into the post-Valterrian world. "Well met, Erzotol Silverden." Since he had already spent some energy, he let Erzotol make the first move, a clumsy strike but strong and bold. Sama'el used the advantages of his curved blade, angling it to block the blow and slide away, as he spun around and back-stepped for a safer distance. Some warriors would have saw the advantage and gone for the throat, but Sama'el wanted to learn, not possibly embarrass the man, and one early opening didn't mean he couldn't give the young Watchman a run for his money if the fight persisted.

[Emizal Silverden]

"Jug head" she said out loud to herself. "If he can possibly think that simple weighted moves can defeat a man of that...." she sighed. Her brother was going to be in a world of hurt, even if it was friendly. She placed her hands on her hips. The man her brother fought was surly a well trained fighter. She could tell that he surpassed her skills by far, which wasn't saying much. But the more important thing was he was better the Erzotols. She watch her brother gain his balance, just as she saw the man pass up a opening to finish this fight. This only made her shake her head, and decided that is was about time her brother knew she was watching. "Hey JUG HEAD!!" she picked up a rock and tossed it at Erzotols head, she knew that he could easily avoid it if he was paying attention. "You cant win a battle just because you are big! You have to have some kind of skills!" She stood where she stood and smiled, it wasn't often that she allowed herself to smile, but after all it was her brother. "Well don't let me stop you, continue on and get a goose egg. I'm just saying if it was me, I would start trying to find this mans weakness and go for it." She didn't want to stop her brother and the man from fighting, just make it known if her brother failed she will just have to pick on him for a while or so.

[Erzotol Silverden]

The weight of his sword, and momentum carried him farther than he intended, making him lurch forward overbalanced. With an awkward side step he was able to collect himself, if only it suited to freeze him in place a moment, and throwing his weight on his left shoulder he spun around, sword held horizontally before him to deflect any strike hoping to catch his back. He quickly noticed that Sam had fallen back, most likely to allow the fight to continue for he was sure he had at least a few openings he could have quickly finished the fight with. The blade in his hand felt too much like a tool, awkward, but not to the point of being unwieldy even though it was close to that without the added counter balance of his shield. What it didn't feel like was an extension of his arm, like he had heard in tales of warriors of old and new, and that fact bit at him. He wanted to be better, he strived to be more skilled with the weapons he had chosen to wield, but his discipline had been less than was necessary, motivation hard to come by after his father's disappearing into the grass, followed by a departing of his sister to lands he knew nothing of. It was a poor excuse and he knew it, he should be better than this, he should have motivated himself enough that he would be at least as good as this man before him, it was his fault, and now he was correcting that.

Something within him, or likely the combination of his peripheral vision, and reflexes told him to move, his body automatically moving back to dodge the projectile. It was a fraction to late, and as the rock whizzed by a jagged edge caught the tip of his nose causing small split in the skin. The pain was minimal, but still the action itself dazed him for a moment, before he turned to look at his sister. His crazy sister that had been gone for little over a year, a woman he had expected to never see again, even though his heart was heavy a long time after she had left. " Very well Emi, watch and learn " he said, his voice proud and strong, perhaps more so than it should have been. It did not matter to him though, even her presence did not change the fact that he was in a spar, but heightened the necessity of it to a new level. He wanted to impress his sister that was for sure, but now, now was the time to exorcise some demons that had been festering inside of him, to release the wave of emotions her startling presence had unleashed within him. Now was the time for a battle with Sam.

Assuming that he hadn't already started striding for him, Erzotol carried his longsword out to the side of him, its point tipped just to the side to ease a slash from that side. He did not know much about swords play but he was quickly learning, and he now knew, or though he did how his slashes would hit a parry from Sam, and thus knew how to compensate just a tad bit better. His swing came out wide from the right side, slicing in at Sama'el's midsection, angled just a tad bit to the ground because of the sloppy cut. What felt like a quick swing on his part, would look slow to a trained swordsman, him not knowing yet the difference proper posture meant, and using his strength to his advantage while paying no heed to how he needed to follow through with his swinging arm. It was a basic move, but one he put all of his passion behind, hoping it would not simply slid off again, but keep to his weapon this time and push him backwards to a point where he could seize the offensive. Anger as well was behind the move, lending to his strength, but strength of arm alone was not enough to win this battle, he needed ingenuity as his sister suggested, and to expose this man's weak points if their where any. He wouldn't notice them unless they were obvious but perhaps if he looked carefully he could catch something that told him that Sama'el was faltering.

If Sama'el had taken advantage of him trying to recover his balance, and started to approach him, when he looked to Sam, he would set his feet wide spread, and keep his place, allowing his opponent to come to him. His arm held out in front of himself, stupidly pretending to hold a shield that was not there. It was more to help his focus than anything else, though it did help just a bit with his overall balance as he stood with his sword held in such a way that the tip pointed outwards diagonally into the air beside him. Keeping his right foot planted, and his knee bent at an angle, he stepped forward with his left, maintaining the ruse of the invisible shield before him, while keeping his eyes solely on the approaching fighter. Like it or not, there were only so many moves available to him, and blocking strikes with his sword was something he lacked much knowledge in. He would try though, he would learn how to use this blade as a improvisational shield, and be able to retaliate hopefully in the same breath. Sam was closer now, and depending on which way he struck, he would hold his longsword slanted before him in hopes of making the curved metal skip off his blade much like the fighter had done to him, perhaps even opening up a hole in that solid defense of his and securing a win. In his heart though, he held no such delusions, it was going to be much harder to win then he presented it.