[Razkar] Fire and Steel - Part 1

[Edreina]

Spring 55, 513AV 11th Bell The Cuttlefish Ankles together, Edreina leaned forward to press her forehead to her knees, sighing as she feels a tugging sensation at the backs of her thighs. For several seconds she hangs there, waving hair tickling her toes as she held the stretch. Remaining bent over she began sliding her feet apart across the deck until they were just past shoulder's width. From her center stance, she moved her forehead to her right knee, bending it slightly to stretch her left further, then to the other side, repeating the stretch. Once that part of her legs feels adequately stretched, she stood back up with her legs together again. Grabbing her ankle, she leaned forward and hauled her ankle up, balancing nimbly on the planted foot until the front of her thigh was properly stretched. A whisper over her shoulder brought Edreina's attention back to the moment. Turning around, she saw that Razkar and the bigger Akalak were standing on the gangplank, odd looks on both of their face. The whisper had been the Akalak's, she realized, but had not caught the words. "Oh! Hey! I just thought I would stretch while I waited for you to get back." Blushing, she crossed her arms behind her back and continued unsurely. "You did say you wanted me to come by today for more training... yes?" Upon his affirmation, she smiled brightly once more and grabbed her elbow, stretching the arm across her chest. "I thought it might help if I stretched first." From there she took the elbow and pulled it back behind her head, arching her back and making her ribcage protrude oddly. "So, what is on the agenda today?" Glistening just barely from the exertion that comes with stretching, Edreina bounded over to her friend, an eager smile. A lust for knowledge seemed to make her glow from within.

[Razkar]

"I am growing tired of talking for this, Akalak."

"That's what makes it so much fun, Myrian!"

Razkar shot the towering blue-skin a dirty look, despite knowing it would only make the bastard grin wider. And... yes, there it was. Sparkling white teeth under a mop of black hair and blue eyes, relishing every moment of the smaller man's discomfort.

He isn't going to let up, so just ignore him. Too much trouble to kill him.

"Oh, stop being so serious," Turak quipped, adjusting the sack over his shoulder, stinking of fresh fish, "You act like you never talk about women."

"I usually not."

"Why? Already taken?"

"Something like that."

"Ahhhh..." Razkar almost groaned at the sound, and his own stupidity. Why did he give the arsehole that bone to chew on? Goddess alone knew where he'd take it. "Spoken for, are we?"

"Not made vows, but... yes."

The two of them kept walking across gangplanks and decks, Cuttlefish steadily rising in front of them from a panorama of sails and masts. They had little else to do and Turak volunteered them to pick up some supplies that Tonio had ordered. So, now the Akalak returns bearing a hundred pounds of salmon, and the Myrian has enough hard tack biscuits to feed an army.

The joys of being a team player. Or crew player, more accurately.

"She waiting for you?"

"Not want to talk about this."

Turak was a braggart, to be sure, but he was not stupid. He knew from the Myrian's tone that he was pushing, very close, to the limits of his patience, and after seeing him draw blood on his cousin, of all people, he knew the smaller man was very much capable of killing him.

Not that he could understand his irritation. Just talking about females...

"So you've... never had... any inclination to... y'know?"

Razkar flicked a glance at him, adjusting his grip on the bag of biscuits. He frowned, giving the question thought. Well, it had crossed his mind, he'd admit. But he expected it to. He'd seen and met females and imagined idly what they would taste like, feel like... but there was a world between harmless fantasy and devastating, real-life betrayal.

"I have thought of it." He finally admitted, just as they got back to the familiar-feeling deck of their ship. Strange, how he could actually tell it was the Cuttlefish by the scratch of the wood on his soles. "But not done it."

"Why?"

Razkar turned on the Akalak like he was insane. "Because I love female I have! Goddess, what is matter with you?!"

"So, no thoughts? Not even about your little Svefra friend?"

Razkar's eyes narrowed as Turak pushed him a little bit further to the edge. "No. Nothing to see there. So if-"

Her hair was, as usual, what gave her away. That and the sudden movement from the plank that bought them both turning. Razkar found himself... studying her. Rather intently. Turak did the same, until his smirking glance saw Razkar's expression and he muttered.

"Oh, yes..." he sighed softly as her body contorted again before them "... nothing there to like at all."

"Akalak, I swear by Myri-"

"Oh! Hey! I just thought I would stretch while I waited for you to get back. You did say you wanted me to come by today for more training... yes?"

The Myrian found his tongue and stepped forward, planting the bag of biscuits onto the deck. One of the crew would scurry along soon enough, knowing better than to let food sit out in the sun, even if it was indestructible hard tack.

"Yes, of course."

"I thought it might help if I stretched first."

Razkar nodded his approval, noting that Turak had decided to wander off. That was smart of him: any more of his leering and he'd be obliged to take an offending eye. But the big man was smart enough to move away, and... Goddess, he hefted that bag of biscuits like it was a satchel.

Turning back to the Svefra, he forcefully donned his instructor's mentality. It was coming easier nowadays, and he was grateful for that. The more Edreina stretched and tensed and loosened in front of him, the harder it became to view her... objectively.

"That was a good idea."

"So, what is on the agenda today?"

The Myrian swallowed and turned away briefly, trying not to notice the sheen on her pale skin that was similar to the sheen formed from... something else. He squinted out over the deck and the mess of docked ships beyond, scratching under his bare chin briefly.

"We have brawled, and we have swung steel. So, we can do two thing together, if want. Or-" he held up a finger, new ideas coming to him with reassuring speed "-would you like whip to work with?" He smiled and tapped his arm, still reddened and angry from the stinging kiss of her improved weapon. "You did good with it, but my skin not thank you."

A chuckle shared between them, and that tension in him both lessened and curdled at once. Edri had... well, there it was. Not "Edreina" or "mistress" anymore, but "Edri". Just as she had actually called him "Raz" a few days before, like his fang-mates back in the jungle. They had become so familiar with each other, friendly and confident... open. But something had always been stalking the edge of their dalliances, something she had given voice to just once, and he had rebuffed.

Razkar truly hoped she would surrender that hope, for it was foolish.

And he hope his own resolve would last out, too.

[Edreina]

"We have brawled, and we have swung steel. So, we can do two thing together, if want. Or... would you like whip to work with? You did good with it, but my skin not thank you." Edreina laughed and scratched the back of her head, blushing lightly as the memory of her battle lust and how she had managed to strike Razkar came flooding back. "I actually brought my..." She nodded over to a barrel upon which rested her worn leather whip. It was a rather simple thing, about 8 feet of braided leather with a wooden, leather-bound handle. But, at the end the whip broke into three tails that were about a foot long and painfully thin. When she got them going fast enough, Edreina could create three thin, stinging gouges in an enemy's skin; she could also slash fabric and knock a mug off of a ship's railing. "But I would not be opposed to tryin' a bit of everything. I just want to get better overall." She padded over to the barrel and picked up her whip, placing the handle in her right hand. Unlike the sword, there is no awkward lack of surety when Edreina wields this. The whip has been in her hand for years now, despite the fact it had been used for nothing other than entertainment up until this point, she knew it as well as her own arm. "So why not start off with what each of us know best? If that proves to be horribly unfair, we can brawl again or you can lend me your gladius once again." Smiling, it is easy to see that the trepidation with which she had previously faced Razkar was gone. Now her eyes shone with excitement and a hunger to learn and to master a new skill. She knew that Razkar would not be on the Flotilla forever, so why not learn as much as she could from him while he was there?

[Razkar]

"I actually brought my..."

Razkar's eyes widened a fraction as looked over to the barrel, and saw a handle, and a length of leather that got longer... and longer... and longer. He actually winced slightly as he saw the tip of it, three needle-thin lengths of leather that he knew could easily slice open flesh. He had to admit, even given his feelings, it was...

"Impressive."

"But I would not be opposed to tryin' a bit of everything. I just want to get better overall."

Razkar noted with approval the way she held the handle. Her grip was casual, familiar, not the tight wariness that she'd held his gladius with. This obviously was a weapon she had trained with before, perhaps even used. The Myrian narrowed his eyes a fraction and scratched under his chin, trying to form some kind of lesson around this unorthodox weapon.

"So why not start off with what each of us know best? If that proves to be horribly unfair, we can brawl again or you can lend me your gladius once again."

What we know best... the words made Razkar cock his head to one side and give her a quick grin. So nice when outside factors caused the torch to flare into life in one's brain. Almost like inspiration in actions. But then his grin faded. His weapons were edged, and hers was leather. One careless swipe, block, thrust or hack, and he would ruin it. So...

"One moment, mistress..."

Edreina watched in puzzlement as the Myrian vanished below decks, and the just listened. Voices raised. Deep and bass. Slightly higher, words apparently more clipped. Razkar's unmistakable low growl. The tone and pitch became harder and louder from one voice, faster, almost offended.

Placated by the other, by force or trickery or just reassurance, she did not know. Then a grumble acceptance. A final, smooth mumbling that sounded like the higher voice bidding someone farewell...

... and then Razkar was back. With a wooden sword in his hand.

"I talk with Akalaks, they let me borrow training sword." He held up the weapon, a little longer than his own gladius, but suiting the purpose. "Not perfect, but is fine. I will owe blue skins favor, but that is not problem. Better than cutting you whip."

Razkar stepped in front of her on the deck, and soon the crew had either cleared away or were watching from the mast and rigging, always in the market for an interesting lolly-gagging. The Myrian's eyes scanned around in all directions, until he was satisfied that all was clear... then they turned back to the waitinf Svefra.

And they were grave.

"I know you are not warrior," he said slowly, enunciating properly, trying to get across his point clearly, "But now we have whip and wood sword, we can be more... ah... train harder. Yes? We will hit. We will hurt. But we must. Must know pain, like I say last time."

He did not wait for an answer. Just popped his neck muscles with a series of sickening cracks and undid his weapon harness, dropping the whole mess of sharpened steel and honed leather onto the barrel. Clad only in his loincloth, hair hanging loose from his topknot and flowing around his shoulders like black smoke, he swung his training sword gently in his right, dominant hand, getting used to its weight, it's balance...

Definitely made for an Akalak.

"Problem with whip," he said a little louder, that authoritative tone already stark in his voice, "is that need distance to use. Must have space to swing, get... ah... get speed? Momentum? Yes, momentum for when you strike and whip. So, we must train to keep you at distance, and let you have whip. Also, must train other hand. Whip will wound, will drag, will even blind or cripple, but not often kill. So, must have second weapon to make finish of kill."

The Myrian stopped his pacing and circling. There was a brief silence as the two faced each other, Edreina already gently swirling the long, vicious cord hanging from the handle in her hand, the Myrian still swinging his practice word around.

He smile briefly, as a gust of wind caught his hair.

"Let us begin. Once we have train with whip, we will train with other. But for now-"

He charged, feet sliding dexterously over the deck, barely giving her time to answer or even react. Razkar knew she could handle pain, and could move fast and, most importantly, could think and react and knew when to do both.

The Myrian's arm, tucked close to him, jutted out for a thrust-

-a feint, blow stopping before it got halfway through-

-body sidestepping to her left, her whip-less side-

-sword coming back at her in a backhanded, horizontal slash to her torso.

[Edreina]

"I know you are not warrior... But now we have whip and wood sword, we can be more... ah..." Rough? The unbidden throught came with a blush and a lip biting smirk that lasted only the second it took for Edreina to regain control of her treacherous thoughts. "...train harder. Yes? We will hit. We will hurt. But we must. Must know pain, like I say last time." "Never really had a problem with pain..." Edreina smiled and shrugged. Childhood memories of an ungainly youth who was constantly well acquainted with the surface upon which she walked came flooding back. If one were to look very closely, they would be able to see faint scars thickening the skin of her knees and elbows. Time had faded all but the most recent. "Problem with whip is that need distance to use. Must have space to swing, get... ah... get speed? Momentum? Yes, momentum for when you strike and whip. So, we must train to keep you at distance, and let you have whip. Also, must train other hand. Whip will wound, will drag, will even blind or cripple, but not often kill. So, must have second weapon to make finish of kill." Edreina began turning the whip end over end, hearing the familiar hiss of leather over wood as her friend explained. Already she was beginning to see the weaknesses in her weapon of choice. If it were to get caught on something midswing it would be useless. Her left fist doubled at the mention of needing a second weapon. Perhaps she would invest in a dagger or something of the sort for closer ranged attacks. In the moment of silence between the two, Edreina was surprised to see that his hair was unbound, not remembering having seen it in such a way before. The same gust of wind caught her own flaming mane and sent it swirling about gaily, as if in excited anticipation for the fight to come. Should have bound it... She mused, realizing that it might become a distraction were she not careful. "Let us begin. Once we have train with whip, we will train with other. But for now-" Edreina was happy to see how much better he was moving across the deck. But, nonetheless, she still saw a weakness and lack of surety in his stride. His first feint was mildly expected somewhere in the back of Edriena's mind as she barely shied away from it, taking a step back so that when his true attack came, she could spin out of the way. She groaned as the tip of the wooden sword knocked against her ribs, muttering curses as she drug her whip into the spin, hearing the tips whistle through the air just as she stopped. The ends kept going and wrapped about Razkar's calf. In the same instant, she leapt back and jerked her arm. Such a move would either burn Razkar's leg, pull him off balance, or nothing at all if she had done it too early or late in the whip's tension cycle. Stepping back again, she darted her whip furiously so that it came forward over one shoulder then up and around the other for a continuous cycle of strikes that landed at Razkar's feet, making a sharp sound that echoed off of the surrounding ships. This move was simply for show, to set him on edge so that after a few strikes, when she brought the whip back over and around he would not expect for her to halt and reverse her arm sooner than the prior attacks so that it would dart out towards his chest in a sharp blow. Edreina seemed cold, focused and determined as she planned each swing, all the while carefully observing every tensing of Razkar's own form, preparing to get out of range again as quickly as she could.

[Razkar]

She was learning, he was proud to see. More importantly, she was still exceptionally nimble.

The wiry Svefra read his faint with impressive ease, but her spin was still a might slow. Razkar heard a faint grunt as his weapon thudded into her side, but she kept moving, kept spinning away and out of reach-

-turning her spin into a tossing of her whip-

-a sting and smack as it wound around his calf-

"Petch!"

-and whatever tentative balance Razkar had on the deck vanished when she pulled, throwing him to his side. By the time he had righted himself, she was already spinning again, whip coming back-

-cracking at his feet, forcing him back and away from those vicious tendrils.

"Good!" He managed to bark, already moving for her again, taking advantage of the inevitable withdrawal she needed to make with each stroke. "Keep distance and make more distance with your whip!"

Again her arm swung in quick, full circles over her head, keeping the long tongue of leather moving at all times, ready to strike. Razkar licked his lips quickly, already finding a rhythm in her strokes. He gave a feral grin, darting forward as her arm went back-

-but then it came forward halfway at its apex, striking for his chest-

-and the Myrian yelped in pain, red gashes torn on his chest as the whip struck home-

Move! Don't think, react!

He grunted and slid to his side, forcing the shock from the pain away, keeping his mind clear. The look on her face was so... focused. So un-Edri. He couldn't help but smile: she was learning more than form and function. She was learning the mentality behind a warrior's acts, that cold, ruthless intent that forced away all pain and morality, focused solely on the task at hand.

Defeating your enemy. Or, more accurately, killing him.

Already she was backing up, sliding and hopping away, whip never ceasing. Razkar knew he had to take advantage of the respite, dashing forwards with his sword in front of him, warding off any potential blow-

-like the one that came slashing up at him from his upper left, a high strike aimed at his shoulder, even his head-

-he ducked and still caught a whiplash across his shoulder, it being almost impossible to accurately predict exactly where the tendrils would strike-

-but he slashed upwards at the same time, knocking the leather length up and away, screwing up her careful and continuous rhythm, forcing her on the defensive-

-forcing her back-

-until there was no more back.

Her arse hit the railing at the edge of the deck and Razkar growled his minor victory, stepping forward and swinging low, aiming for her leg-

-only for her to bend her knees and jump up, strike sailing through empy air as suddenly she was on the railing, legs level with his-

Oh, petch-

-her foot lashed out and caught him in the face, sending him staggering back with stars laughing before his eyes-

-he heard the whip crack, braced himself and felt the sting a hundred times over as his addled, dazed mind amplified it.

React.

His free arm shot up and grabbed the leather, jerking it forwards, his body twisting to the side as he did so, dragging her forwards-

-hammering a backhanded blow into her stomach as she fell off the railing.

"Other problem with whip." He said slowly, circling away from her as she got to her knees, coughing and gritting her teeth. "If enemy can grab it, he take your weapon. So, must have other weapon... or..."

She looked up and saw him cock his head, tapping the hilt of his wooden sword with his free hand.

"Bottom of you handle? Put spike there. Metal. Short, sharp. So, if enemy grab whip, pull you close, you can hit-" he moved with a quick, ruthless jerk, stabbing horizontally with the hilt of his sword "-or if can pull enemy down, get him on ground-"

Razkar dropped to one knee and stabbed down at a downed, dazed, invisible enemy. A quick, vicious blow, and he was back to his feet.

"Eye, face or heart. One good stab, and thing is done. Now... again!"

[Edreina]

When the blow towards his chest landed, Edreina had to fight a pang of remorse upon seeing the blood bead up on the marks. He's a Myrian. He's been through worse. And besides. I doubt he is upset when he harms you. Why not exact a bit of revenge? Despite the hardening thought, Edreina continued to take steps back. She could feel the subtle change in the deck just before she bumped into the railing. But, for good measure, she bumped into the railing, smirking slightly when Razkar growled in satisfaction, swinging a little bit lower than usual - perhaps to numb her leg as he had before. But, just as could have begun imagining the feeling of his little wooden sword colliding with Edreina's soft flesh, the spry little Svefra bent her knees a fraction and leapt up onto the railing. In the instant that the Myrian was off balance as he did not land the expected blow, Edreina nearly stumbled on the railing, having never done such with something in her hand. Unable to regain control in time to swing her whip, Edreina improvised using one of his many other lessons: Everything is a weapon. She lifted one leg and sent the side of her foot crashing into his cheek, obviously jarring him. She jerked the whip shortly, sending a sharp but focused blow to his shoulder again. Because the motion was smaller than others, a large part of the whip had barely moved and in the close quarters Razkar had the sense to reach out and grab hold of the tightly braided leather. Caught off guard and on a horribly small perch, a quick yank of the whip sent her wobbling off balance once more and right into range of his staggering back-handed blow. The force of it not only knocked her from the railing to the deck but also winded her. "Other problem with whip. If enemy can grab it, he take your weapon. So, must have other weapon... or..." He circled her slowly as she pulled one leg up underneath her, the other out front so that she could dart to her feet at any second. Something about the discreetly smug look on his face brought the flame back to her heart, heating her glare to the point that it could have set the deck aflame. Forcing her to half-turn her body as he circled, he tapped the pommel of his sword, bringing her attention to it. "Bottom of you handle? Put spike there. Metal. Short, sharp. So, if enemy grab whip, pull you close, you can hit or if can pull enemy down, get him on ground..." Edreina decided she would seek out such a blade after this lesson. The Myrian demonstrated two uses for such a blade in quick succession, destroying an invisible enemy with each sharp blow. "Eye, face, or heart. One good stab, and thing is done. Now... again!" Edreina moved with a vengeance, rising to her feet and arcing her whip downward in the same motion. Upon hearing the crack, she spun about and whipped it again, aiming at Razkar's side. Without pause, she danced back and struck thrice in succession, flourishing the last one with a spin that would slice his chest horizontally for several inches if it landed. He continued to back her about the deck, but was unable to force her into a corner as they exchanged blows, the tip of his sword gaining satisfaction more frequently as he held himself back less and less, letting the spar escalate to the point that Edriena's flame grew to warm her limbs and keep her eyes darting about as she began to anticipate his familiar patterns. When he raised his hand to strike at her, she flicked the whip so that it smarted against his fingers. If he drops it... I can turn the tables...

[Razkar]

At his word, she moved fast and without mercy. Before, in fact: his words had only just hit the breeze when she surged upwards, arm following suit, whip slashing vertically towards him-

-and he barely avoided it, ducking and rolling to his side, getting some tumbling practice while he's at it, coming up to one knee-

-and immediately throwing himself backwards as her next blow cracked a mere foot from his side, a blow that would have laid him open to his ribs had it connected.

Despite the shock, the Myrian couldn't stop the wolfish grin that flashed on his face. Creating distance, just like he'd advised. Buying herself time and space to use her unwieldy weapon, and not giving him time enough to formulate a plan. Three more blows, again and again and again, and he managed to sway or slide away-

-aside from the last, flourished and unpredictable, which slashed open his chest again, blood pattering quietly onto the deck.

The Myrian's free hand went up with a hiss, feeling a red wetness spread across his fingertips. Goddess, she would be magnificent one day, and with that thought in mind, he charged back in.

Back and forth, see and saw, to and fro... the battle meandered across the deck and neither savage nor Svefra could seem to gain and advantage. His sword thudded into her as much as her whip lashed him. But both were learning patterns, boundaries, strikes and stances. Reading body language-

-like when she tensed her foot and he knew she would slide to her whip side, probably at the same time as she-

-lashed out in a diagonal strike, but he was already moving, crouching low under the flailing leather, gifting her a quick, vicious strike to her stomach, sending her staggering back-

-but the whip was already moving when he raised his hand again-

-cracking-

-striking-

-and he felt his grip waver and loosen as his fingers felt on fire.

Razkar yelped in pain and backpedaled frantically, holding the sword with both hands now, looking down with shock at the blood soaking the back of his knuckles. How had she been so accurate? A lucky strike. It must have been. But with one stroke, she had nearly robbed him of his hand, thus his weapon, and this any chance of victory.

Edreina smiled in a way that mirrored his own when she saw something in those black eyes. Not fear. No, she had not yet made that kind of impression on him, and their situation was not even close to dire enough to prompt that. Not surprise, either, for she had seen that before. But... apprehension. It took her a moment to understand how significant it was.

He doesn't know if he can win...

Then the look hardened, and some line had been crossed in his mind. The apprehension vanished, giving way to some kind of... peace? No, that wasn't it. But it was so curiously... blank.

Razkar charged forward, heedless now of the whirlwind of lashing leather around him. Over and over the whip smacked and smashed against him, but he kept on and on. Forcing her back, rattling her-

-especially when his mouth split open, revealing rows of sharpened teeth and-

"RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

-an earsplitting bellow buffeted her as her vision filled with a dark, slashing figure, sword hammering towards her, driving her back and back-

-letting the whip wrap painfully around his torso, claiming it with his own body, even as he stabbed the hilt towards his breastbone-

-lashed out with a knee between his legs-

-and he twisted to his right, avoiding her low, vicious knee, closing the gap-

-and slamming his fist into her kidney.

"If enemy is willing to take pain," he rasped like an animal, an inch away from her ear as her knees failed her and she swayed, "He can close. He will not care for pain. Like I say. Whip not kill..."

OOCI know we don't want to make this too one-sided, but be careful to stay within your skill classification. You're a Novice with the whip still, and a blow that accurate to Razkar's hand would probably require an Expert level.

[Edreina]

OOCI made sure to note that she had hit similarly sized targets in prior posts and that she was learning his patterns. Expert whip wielding would be more along the lines of being able to swing from one place to another in short distances or pulling people off of their feet. Strike placement come very early on but power and tension control come later on. The muscle memory of placing a whip's arc one way and pulling back at a certain point in the arc and having it land in a certain place is rather simple. Just think of popping someone with a wet towel - very easy to do - and then multiply the distance a little. The straight shot across her body would not have been too outlandish at her current skill level. And no, I'm not just rambling to defend my post. xD My father used to do sideshows with a whip while in the Navy and taught me a wee-tiny-itty-bitty little bit. Welcome to Texas. ;D But thank you for pointing this out. I will be sure to scale her skill back a little bit. Sorries! When the whip did in fact strike Razkar's fingers - his hand alone for that matter - Edreina could not help how her eyebrows raised in surprise. Something about the look in his eyes brought a self-satisfied smile to Edreina's lips. She had given him pause. But the look was replaced with something that Edreina found to be completely terrifying: blankness. It was as if he had wiped the emotion away with a cloth and brought himself back into the focus of beating her... teaching her? His shout unnerved her and sent her feet pedaling backwards of their own volition, seeking to escape the menace. Betrayed by her own body, her slashes became a bit erratic as part of her lost focus on anything that did not concern escaping him. In one erratic horizontal slash, she redirected her own arm at the wrong moment and felt the leather wrap around her torso for an instant before being ripped away with a burning sensation. Petch... She truly needed to regain control before this went bad... In the same slash that had burned her flesh a light red, her whip had wrapped around Razkar's body but, the instant before she could rip it back and away, he locked it against himself, capturing her once more. With a growl, she pushed herself forwards, towards Razkar. Instinct taking over again now that she was cornered, she raised the handle and went to slam it into his chest, hoping to wind him. At the same time, she raised a knee once close enough in an attempt to induce the sharp, gagging pain that caused all men to double over. Avoiding both, he spun closer and slammed his fist just below her ribcage on her back in a blow that tensed the muscles in her body and let black spots dance before her eyes. "If enemy is willing to take pain. He can close. He will not care for pain. Like I say. Whip not kill..." Blood pounded in her ears as she tried to remain standing, swaying lightly to the side as she fought to breathe again. The whip slipped from her fingers and clattered eerily upon the deck. It hurt. Gods it hurt. Part of her screamed to let it end; the same part that had been shushed during their first lesson. Staggering under her own weight, she lifted a thousand pounds by straightening up, regaining her composure. Blinking back the automatic tears that the blow had forced into her blue eyes, she forced herself to harden once more. She fought to regain her resolve to continue the fight. Despite her efforts, her eyes were slightly hazy as her body threatened to give up, whip-arm trembling from exertion. But, stubborn as ever, the fiery haired red head pushed herself to continue, to make the Myrian teaching her his savage ways proud that a little whisp of a woman could stand against him. Turning, she took a step forward and lashed out, punching quick twice with her right hand before cutting upwards with her left arm powerfully. Without the battle lust, she was hazy, inaccurate, mortally persistent.

[Razkar]

Razkar had killed enough men close enough for them to spit their last breath on his face. He knew what they felt like. He knew how their flesh quivered and their muscles relaxed, as if their bodies were sighing and grateful for a release. He knew how their muscles stayed tense and rage and hate drove them on even after their eyes turned to dead glass and their heart stopped beating.

He felt Edreina's now... and he was not left wanting.

"Do not think." He snarled as she wavered, knees shaking. A clatter from below him, and he knew her whip had gone. A second clatter. So was his sword. "Do. Not. Think! React! Force pain away!"

He stepped back and with a massive, ragged gulp the Svefra stayed upright, face taut and pale and furious. She still swayed and with every blink her lashes seemed to soak yet more tears... but she did not fall. The Myrian stepped back again and studied her coldly. Part of him wanted to embrace her, hold her up or let her down gently or just end this.

It was a small part, and it was ignored. This was training, and training was brutal. Live with it.

"Fight. Fight own body and own body." He spread his arms, an open invitation. "Hate, Edri. Make hate you purpose-"

She flew at him wildly, two quick blow from her right that he knocked away with his left forearm-

-but not the left uppercut that came up as a surprise, steady and not weakened since it had not been holding her whip-

-catching him under the jaw just as he backed up.

For the second time in mere chimes stars and swirling blackness filled Razkar's vision. He heard a whoosh and a grunt from below and blindly struck down, stopping her leg as it jerked up towards him again. Back, get back, his mind screamed, get some distance-

Not enough, it turned out, before a straight jab to his face sent him reeling back against the railing. The impact shuddered through him and actually cleared his vision, finding a snarling female with red hair and gnashing teeth that looked nothing like Edreina for a moment coming for him again, fists raised-

Too angry. Far too angry.

Razkar waited until she swung her right again and swayed to his left, her fist flying past his head-

-his own left jabbing hard into her shoulder, right where her collarbone met the ball of her shoulder, sending shudders and numbness through her arm-

-giving her a quick kick in the left shin with his right foot, even as it bruised his toe to do it-

-and spun away to his left, away from her...

Leaving her hobbling and gasping and gripping her throbbing shoulder. She whirled, eyes still blazing, finding the Myrian-

Smiling at her. Mocking her. Goading her on. Did she know she was being tested? That he was drawing out whatever darkness he needed to in order to make her a warrior? To cast aside pain and accept the killing intent she would need to survive in battle?

Razkar did not know. But she came on. Oh, she did indeed.

"Good girl..."