40th Day of Winter, 503 AV
The dark wood of the practice blade was a dark blur as it hurtled through the air, only to ricochet off the wooden longsword that appeared out of nowhere to block the blow with a sharp clack. Grunting, Amondaris lashed his foot towards his opponent's ankle, simultaneously pistoning his left arm forward to stab at the larger man's abdomen. Wincing as his foot met the unyielding, mercilessly hard steel of a shield, his toe exploded in a burst of agony, the pain heralded by a dull crack as the bone snapped. The lethal blow he had directed towards his assailant's stomach was contemptuously batted aside, the dark sword launching a blistering counterattack, the blade seeming to flicker, such was the speed with which it moved. Desperately, the boy raised his right blade in a vain attempt to fend off the vicious riposte, to no avail. Solid wood met soft flesh in a flash of lurid colours, the dull edge striking him solidly on the cheekbone, the sheer force of the blow spinning the younger warrior about in a sharp pivot. Staggering forward in a daze, his feet scraping along the frozen snow, he attempted to right himself, only for a boot to be planted solidly on the small of his back. With a cry of pain, the boy stumbled to his knees, blood weeping from the already swollen wound upon his cheek. Lazily, his opponent strolled forward to lay the wooden edge of his blade against the boy's neck, the gesture casual. The voice that spoke was deep, that of a man, and possessed a rich, warm tone that simply dripped with sarcasm as it drawled, "Y'know, pup, for a while there I thought I had you, but that last flurry was just too much! No man could stand before such an onslaught as that!"
Snorting, the broad-chested, shaggy-haired man threaded the wooden practice blade through the loop on his belt and extended a gauntleted hand towards the lad. Muttering sullenly under his breath, the lad accepted the proffered assistance and was hauled unceremoniously to his feet. The same hand tightened it's grip upon his, squeezing the delicate bones painfully, causing the boy to wince. Half-heartedly, the boy returned the grip, making a poor effort at returning the agony that was slowly being inflicted upon his significantly smaller hand. Lowering his great, shaggy head down to peer into the boy's dark blue eyes, the giant casually collided his hand against the side of the boy's head, nearly knocking the poor lad from his feet. "What's the matter, Amondaris? You're fighting like a girl who's just been told she won't get to go to the dance this year. I've sparred wet dishcloths with more fight in them!", the man growled, his beady,gold-tinged eyes glittering with mirth.
Once again, the boy staggered before righting himself, making a laudable effort at focusing on one of the ursine men who stood before him. Squinting, he gave his still-ringing head a shake before focusing on the man, a thunderous scowl knitting his brows together. "Mother and that petcher Khanu are leaving for a few weeks. Do you know what that means? Do you, Rhanor?" he spat, his words loaded with venom. Rhanor's lips twitched up in the faintest hint of a smile and he merely arched his brow, the gesture asking a silent question. "A girl!", Amondaris spat, agitation written in every inch of his body. Pacing back and forth, utterly ignoring both the wound on his cheek and the broken tow, the bow continued in the same venomous tone, "A strange girl, living in my house! Sharing the same house, sleeping in the same house, everything! It's a disaster!" He threw up his arms in a dramatic gesture of despair, before allowing his arms to drop, where they hung loosely by his side as he lowered his gaze to forlornly look at the injured foot.
Grinning, Rhanor clapped his enormous hand down upon Amondaris' shoulder with enough force to buckle the boy's knees, his great chest heaving as his laughter boomed out, the sound oddly warm and wholesome. "Imagine that! The little wolf, reduced to a cowering pup at the mere thought of a strange female being near! Ha!", the huge man said, much to the chagrin of Amondaris, who's response to this needling amounted to a glowering scowl, followed by a series of dark mutterings about bear men and how he'd wear his skin as a cloak if he wasn't careful.
Blirthely ignoring the muttered promises of mutilation and things best left unrepeated, Rhanor picked the boy up by the scruff of the neck and, stifling a yawn, casually tossed him in the direction of the city gates. Strolling past the sprawled form of his student, he called back,"C'mon, lady's man, let's call it a day and go meet this piece of tail, shall we? And stop falling over. It's bad form when you're trying to woo the fairer sex. Trust me, I know." Humming a pleasant tune to himself, the giant set off towards the Everwinter city, the boy scrambling to his feet, running to catch up with Rhanor.
They passed through the frozen gates without incident, carrying on down the streets at a relaxed pace. Rhanor saw fit to use this time to instruct Amondaris on one of the "finer arts in life", as he put it; How to entice and keep a woman. The generously supplied teachings were met with much reddening of cheeks and furiously muttered promises of future retaliations, all of which were, of course, summarily ignored. Eventually, the verbal torment faded to a stop, as Amondaris' house came into view. Trudging up the short path, the wanderers halted before the door and, each glancing at the other askance, abruptly broke into a game of rock, scissors, paper. Curled fist met calloused palm three times, the dull slap of flesh the only sound made by either competitor, each fiercely concentrating on the other's hands. "Ha! I win. Your turn, furball.", Amondaris crowed, somehow managing to seem exultant, even while keeping his voice to a strained whisper. For his part, Rhanor's face fell, his sorrowful expression comical in it's sincerity. Heaving an almighty sigh, he gave a glum nod, and turned to the door with the bearing of a man doomed to face the gallows. Straightening himself, he took a deep breath, raised his mountainous hands, and rapped it against the door solidly, three times. Furtively, he glanced to his right, muttering about traitorous whelps with no honour. Said traitorous whelp had wisely decided to hide around the corner of the house, bracing himself for the inevitable.
Faintly, as if it came from a great distance, shrieking could be heard coming from within the house. Steadily rising in volume to reach a full-fledged cacophony of screams and shrieks, the large, solid man visible braced himself, squeezing his eyes shut as the door burst open, to reveal the source of nightmares; Three adorable, pretty little girls of varying age, each younger than the last. Solemnly, they focuses their gazes upon their victim, Rhanor's bushy beard quivering beneath the weight of such a scrutiny. The oldest, Khala, wearing a neatly cut dress and bearing a single ribbon in her hair, folded her arms slowly over her chest, her tone cool, imperious as she demanded, "Where is he and what did you do to him this time, oaf?" Wincing, the big man lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck slowly, lowering his gaze to his boots as he mumbled an unintelligible, almost inaudible reply. A neatly plucked eyebrow was arched, the three remaining silent as they waited for a proper answer. Squirming, the man gingerly lifted his hand and pointed around the corner, keeping his gaze fixed upon his boots. Lifting a delicate hand to pat the man on the arm, Khala swept past him, Yurae and Icilae following in her wake. As they rounded the corner, an indignant roar of, "Traitor!" was followed by a loud yelp and a dull thump as someone hit the ground. Everything was ominously quiet for a long, fidgety moment, Rhanor slowly edging his way into the doorway. Glimpsing the three frog-marching their elder half brother in front of them, said brother the very picture of misery, Rhanor wisely decided to duck behind the opposite corner of the house, his voice pleading as he called out, "I'm innocent! He attacked me, it was self defence! The boy's a monster, you can see in his eyes!" Rolling their eyes, the girls shoved Amondaris in front of the doorway, shifting their gaze to the door as it was pulled open. Amondaris, oblivious to the presence behind him, glumly stared at his snow-covered boots, his eyes a dark, sombre blue. |
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by Amondaris on August 14th, 2010, 3:56 pm 
