[Flashback, Sunset Falls] Don't Forget to Fall

[Rhuryc]

"You've proven you can swing that sword." Tristan said as he stepped forward, twisting his torso around while maneuvered past his ward's guard and put his blade inside Rhuryc's wrist, severing his handle on the hilt. The sword clattered against the rocks beneath and, just when he thought he was getting the hang of this whole fighting thing, Rhuryc's pride was once again stricken from his mind. "But what happens when you no longer have it?" The boy grumbled and placed his now-free hand against his shield and reinforced his grasp on it, ready for the next onslaught. What came shocked the boy. With ease Tristan was able to slip inside Rhuryc's guard for a second time. He bashed his shield into the boy's arm and took his last bastion of defense away, leaving him with nothing but his fists.

"And now?" The man made no effort to stop. He stepped forward and his sword came over head. The usual method of defense was useless here, so Rhuryc ducked the blade and juked to his side, uneasy without the comfort of a weapon. "You can't dodge forever!" Next the shield. Tristan came in hard and Rhuryc responded with a swift movement. He hurled himself to the side and wound up on his stomach for what must have been the hundredth time, only this time it was voluntary. Not surprisingly, he was used to getting up by now. Up on his feet again Rhuryc found himself prepared for once. Instead of a dodge he raised his hand in protest against the incoming sword, his hands clasping around his uncle's wrist for a change of pace.

Rhuryc cried out in pain as the shield hit his side, but still he held on. He wrestled the sword from Tristan's grasp and pulled it free, the motion followed by a swift kick from his own leg to disconnect him from the grapple. A few steps brought him away from immediate harm as the boy adjusted himself, one hand holding his side across his stomach while the other was set out in front of him, sword held strong in challenge.

"Hah!" Tristan laughed, amused. "Good. Good! But how long can you keep that up?" The man unleashed a terrible roar and charged forward. Eyes narrowed, Rhuryc met his tenacity and brought his sword up and swung it over his head, the blade brought down with a strength not of his own. The iron dented the wooden board it clashed with and both combatants collided head on. They crumbled into heap of sweat and blood, weapons dropped as they started a grand brawl. Rhuryc, who had wrestled control at the start, rolled Tristan onto his back and jammed his knuckle into the man's chest, the retort of which was a grab and a sudden jerk of Rhuryc's hair. The boy found his face in a rock moments later. He felt Tristan take control and he was forced onto his stomach, one arm twisted behind his back in a painful embrace. Tristan leaned in, his mouth hovering over his nephew's head. "Spirit isn't enough to beat me boy."

That was it.

Rhuryc raked his head back and slammed it into Tristan's face. The distraction gave him what he need to reclaim his arm and Rhuryc took a hold of the grapple once more. He spun and grabbed an available leg, pulled, and rolled aside, letting gravity distract the man as the boy got to his feet. Tristan followed seconds later, his lips curled into a grinning snare. Rhuryc was afraid. Was the man enjoying this?

The two met again in a clash of flesh. Rhuryc's fist was sent into Tristan's kidney, the result of which was not what the boy expected. The man just laughed and grabbed the back of Rhuryc's next where he brought it down into an outstretched knee. The boy's hands clasped his face as he was released and he stumbled backward, tears welling up in his eyes as he felt blood stream down his face. An unseen foot came next and swept Rhuryc's legs out from under him, the surprise of which further disturbed the boy. Tristan just chuckled, watching.

"You can cry when you're dead. Get up, we're not done."

[Rhuryc]

37th Day of Spring, 505 AV

"Form! Technique!" Tristan shouted as he whipped at Rhuryc's heels. "Poise! Precision! Focus! You can not win a fight if your mind is not sound!" A large, wooden stick had replaced the sword. Despite the material, the pain was no less. "Pain is real, but your job is to ignore it!" The haft of the make-shift staff jutted into Rhuryc's stomach. He coughed, but stood firm. "If your are blinded by the fear of injury than how can you face your enemy?!" Another strike. Rhuryc felt the welts as they formed on his back, but his teeth only clenched harder. "Never," Whack! "Succumb," Another strike. "To fear!" One last assault and the boy was brought to his knees, his breath heavy as he gasped for air. Tristan nodded.

The two of them were silhouetted against the moon, the darkness of night providing a cool, refreshing atmosphere of which to train. More than twenty days had passed since their arrival and that falls remained the same, still beautiful, still alight with a splendor only the gods could comprehend, yet Rhuryc seemed almost a different being. He was tan, for one, and his body was in the process of some peculiar transformation, a hardening of sorts. Welts and bruises covered his skin at almost every inch. How he continued to take the punishment was a mystery all its own. An iron clad will, perhaps, or more likely just an iron clad teacher.

"Good, whelp. Good. You won't rot in that hell pit of a city. Not like me or your father." Tristan spoke as he glanced out over the falls, his vision downcast with a somber expression. "You mark my words. You may not believe me, damn," He paused, anger clouding his countenance. "I don't even know what I'm talking about, but this sword," Tristan drew the weapon he carried at his side, the one item he showed reverence to, perhaps the only thing in his life he cared about. "It's got to mean something. Anything. Even if it's not some divine gift, what it stands for is the one thing your father never understood. Tyveth, boy, is more than a figure. Chivalry requires champions, and whether you like it or not, you will be a man of honor."

Rhuryc stared at his uncle's back. Who was this man? He was no sadistic, hell born demon bent on evil. He was a man. A man with dreams and goals. A bastard of a man, but one nonetheless. With unsteady legs Rhuryc got back to his feet and closed his eyes, preparing himself for the rest of the night. It was to be a long one, he imagined, for they had yet to even get to the sword play.

"Whenever you're done playing with your toy there, uncle, would you mind if we got on with it? I don't have all night." The boy spoke with a comical grin, one that he knew would soon be replaced by a grimace.

Tristan spun around with a grin. He sheathed the sword and reclaimed his stick before finding poising himself next to the weary student. "Hmph. Draw your sword, whelp." Rhuryc was quick to respond, one hand grasping the hilt of the dull blade as he loosened it from it's scabbard. He held the weapon up, away from his chest at a near perfect forty-five degree angle. "Up!" Tristan shouted and Rhuryc fell into drill. The man cracked his stick against the boy's side and began to walk around him, watching. "Strike!" With the command the motion. Rhuryc's arm swung the blade down, his opposite foot moving in tandem with his hand. His entire body moved with the attack, even his weight thrown into the momentum. "Reset!" Rhuryc followed suit. When his foot did not come back in a precise fashion, Tristan found it a worthy offense to punish with his staff. The following impact echoed across the falls.

[Rhuryc]

43rd Day of Spring, 505 AV

"Wake up." Rhuryc sat straight up, his eyes wide as he waited for the splash. Weird. No water? No. He smelled breakfast. Food? That was a change of pace. With a bemused expression the boy took a moment to acclimate himself to his surroundings and found that most of the supplies was packed up. The remains of some kind of meal was left over a drawn out and a covered pit. Tristan was up and about, as usual, and was busying himself securing various items to his own pack. He was currently in the process of deciding whether or not to keep the shields, Rhuryc decided. They too far beyond repair to be combat effective. Even his uncle and been unable to mend them after their last bout. With a shrug, Rhuryc scooted forward and took it upon himself to partake in the last of the sweet mush. More rabbit. Delightful.

"Where we going?" The boy asked between bites, enjoying his reprieve from scheduled life. Tristan ignored him initially as he finished whatever task he was engaged in. Before too long he approached the pot of terrible food and started to clean it out, emptying the contents into what remained of their fire pit. Rhuryc was not sad to see the rest of his breakfast go. He'd rather eat dirt if given the option.

"Home." Tristan said, hoisting his pack onto his shoulders. "Thirty days are over. Don't worry though, boy." The main said with a sinister light in his eyes, a grin shot in the direction of his nephew. "We'll be back."

Rhuryc almost whimpered. He finished his meal with a heavy heart and got to his feet, his pack grabbed for the journey back. Time away from Tristan would be a gift from the very gods themselves. He intended to spend at least a week hidden inside the city, just so he could be rid of the disgust he felt every time he saw the man. Family he may have been, but pain did well to severe ties. Somehow, Rhuryc believed his uncle could sense that, and so it was they remained silent as they departed the falls. He wondered how long it would be before Tristan attacked him on the road.

[Leviathan]

Thread Award! Rhuryc Exp +1 Weapon (Sword), +1 Unarmed Combat, +2 Swimming, +2 Observation, +4 Weapon Skill (Shield), +5 Brawling, +1 Running Lore "Feeding Fear, Forming Strength", "Pain Runs in the Family" Additional Comments Very well done. I was interested from the beginning to the end. I loved the witty comments between both characters. If you have any questions or comments on my grading, feel free to PM me and we'll get it all worked out.