[Anthonius Fighter's Pit] Punching and kicking [Aoren]

[Daveth]

Daveth leaned his back against the stone wall of the circular dusty pit. He looked up at the sky, or what was the sky for Syliras city. He frowned at the closed off stone that separated him from the sun, the wind. Daveth missed the skies, he liked feeling the sun on his skin when he walked, he always found it to be a treat when he walked along the open air streets of the fortress city. He knew Syliras wasn't really his home, it wasn't the Sea of Grass. The drykas rolled up his sleeve, glancing at the windmark on his right bicep. He seemed to be lost in a memory as he gazed at it, recalling how happy he was when he received it, the pain from the tattoo being made, but mostly what it meant to him. His family all had their windmarks in the same spot, he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He felt his eyes watering slightly as he thought about them. "I need a drink.." He thought to himself as he looked to the ground, kicking the toe of his boot against it as he stirred up some of the dirt and gravel there. He pursed his lips and shook his head. He missed grass, he sometimes found solace in the courtyards in Syliras but he felt like they were a forced attempt to create what should feel natural. Daveth was beginning to wonder if Aoren had remembered their meeting. He on instinct looked up to the sun to check where it was in the sky, only to be again reminded it was hidden from his view. He gritted his teeth and exhaled slowly. "Did I mistake a word? I wonder if I said the wrong number.. or confused the word for night and day. I sound like a child who was dropped on their head when I speak common." And it was true, Daveth spoke broken common, and moved his hands in strange gestures people didn't always understand. He as a person, and as a speaker was always very vocal and animated when he spoke. But even more so due to the fact that the Drykas used a series of hand motions and patterns to help convey their message as well. It was like second nature to him, he didn't know how to -not- use the method of speaking he was brought up with. The only reason he had learned common at all was from the caravan he traveled with to Syliras. He was thankful another Drykas there had taught him. Both of his cobalt blue eyes scanned the crowd around him, he saw a few working with blades, one or two using spears. And of course, Gerard boasting and then shouting at what Daveth thought to be a new warrior. He sighed and shook his head back and forth. "That isn't how you teach.." He thought to himself, he thought back on the several he had instructed back in the Sea of Grass. Their young faces, their excitement, frustration when they couldn't get something, and then their joy when in time they mastered it. It brought a smile to his face, and then it was quickly taken from him as the realization of most of them being dead or missing from the Djed storms. He again casted his gaze to the rack of weapons, eyeing the spears. That weapon had always intrigued him, he admired the range and options it provided. He made a mental note to himself to return here and fool around with the weapon in the future, but for now he waited for Aoren to arrive. "He mentioned unarmed combat.. I thought he wanted to learn swords. His arms are like tree trunks.. he's going to pummel me." Daveth winced at the thought of one of Aoren's fists slamming into his jaw. He gritted his teeth, sucking in air as a small 'hiss' was made from it. This was not going to be a fun day for the Drykas.

[Aoren]

Aoren was late.

He hated being late. More than that, he loathed it. He’d gotten tied up at working at the Stormhold Salves shop where he was apprenticed to Mistress Sahfri Blackleaf. While he wasn’t begrudging the work for making him tardy he was unhappy at his tardiness all the same. So he was running through the halls of the Stormhold Citadel desperately trying to make his way through the throngs of people on the way to the Anthonious Fighter’s Pit.

It had been a little while since he visited the Pit. It had been too long. There had been a time when it was one of the locations in the city that he visited most frequently but that time was gone. Part of him wanted to pick that habit up again as it helped him to make due with the free time he had. Now that he had proposed to start sparring and learning from Daveth he was excited to get back into the swing of things. After leaping, dodging, bumping into people and getting thoroughly cursed at by a very angry gentleman who didn’t appreciate being pushed aside, Aoren arrived at the Fighter’s Pit.

He had always enjoyed coming to the Pit in the past. It was one of the few open-air locations in the entire city. It was a little dilapidated but that was only to be expected when it concerned the Pit. Somehow the rundown look only added to the atmosphere. He glanced up at the sky. He was very late. He half expected not to see Daveth amongst the would-be fighters and mercenaries there were to be found there. He was happy when his eyes landed on the Drykas man leaning against a wall. Daveth didn’t look altogether very pleased at having been made to wait. It made Aoren flinch.

“I’ll have to find some way to make it up to him.” Ever the courteous young man Aoren would find some way to make up for the fact that he was running late. He made his way over to the other side of the Pit until he was near the Drykas. He waved giving the man an apologetic smile before letting his hand fall behind his head. He rubbed his head in embarrassment.

“Uhh, sorry. I got held up at work.” Aoren brought his hands in front of him doing his best to make the gestures in Pavi for “duty” or “labor”. It was probably horribly wrong or terribly out of context but he hoped the essence of the message carried through.

“So, I know I said I would like to learn about sword fighting. I think I need to prepare myself for that though. I thought we might be able to get our muscles working by entering a little sparring match.” He cleared his throat doing his best to convey the message in his broken Pavi as he could. Aoren hadn’t grown up speaking the very animated language. What little he knew had been from those willing to teach him once he’d uncovered his heritage. He’d made it a point to learn the language in hopes of one day being able to communicate with his family. That hope had been dashed in more recent times.

With Daveth though his hope was rekindled. Perhaps he could learn from the Drykas? He didn’t seem altogether unreasonable. In fact he seemed quite open to exchanging methods of communicating. It would only help learning from each other be that much easier.

“I still want to learn to sword fight. If you are still willing to teach me, that is?” He quirked his head at the final note of the question. Aoren could understand if there were some cultural boundaries in accepting a pupil. He would be willing to do his best to be acceptable as a potential student. When it all boiled down to it, Daveth posed an interesting question for Aoren.

Was there a possibility that Daveth knew about his family? What could Daveth teach him about Drykas culture altogether?

Both prospects excited Aoren a great deal. Part of him was worried that his open and eager attitude might be a little off-putting to the obviously uncomfortable Drykas. Syliras wasn’t an ideal place to Daveth. He’d made that much clear to Aoren in their first meeting. He understood. There were drawbacks to Syliras. There was no hiding it. The noted lack of fresh air. The constant reek of thousands of people all living in an enclosed space. The decidedly minimal amount of elbow room. Despite all of these things though it provided the safety and shelter that many people in the current age of Mizahar needed.

The Knights were not unkind. They were downright agreeable in most circumstances. Unless of course you were violating the law then they were quick to crack down on things. That was only to be expected though.

“But, umm…given my being late and all I think it’s only fair that you decide. You are going to be my teacher after all and I will take whatever you throw at me.” He chuckled folding his arms over his chest. Aoren met Daveth’s gaze with his friendly one. There was something remarkably familiar about his deep blue eyes but Aoren couldn’t place it.

“I will let you know that I know almost nothing about sword fighting.” As he spoke he laced the conversation with bits of Pavi in the hopes that he could be more clearly understood. He shrugged his shoulders. He was actually glad that they had chosen the Fighter’s Pit instead of venturing outside of the city to the clearing Aoren typically frequented when he wanted to train. He’d commissioned a sword from Sultros Blades earlier in the season and as of yet it was incomplete. They would be able to utilize some of the weaponry around the Pit if Daveth chose to forgo the hand-to-hand combat and plunge straight into swords.

Aoren wasn’t altogether opposed to that idea. He was just nervous. He hated to appear incompetent in anything he did but it was a natural part of learning.

“So, what will it be?”

[Daveth]

Daveth was about five minutes from excusing himself from the pit and walking back to his tiny, windowless apartment. The thought of him going back there put a frown on his face, he felt trapped, like he was a prisoner of his own choosing and doing. Sometimes, all the time, he wished this was all just a bad dream and he'd wake up, like the Djed storms had never happened. But this was real life, and he knew there was no going back. A man could dream, right? Just as he was about to go, a nagging in the back of his head had told him to wait another five minutes. He complied with the feeling and closed his eyes, when he opened them he saw the silhouette of Aoren coming across the way. Aoren was right, he -didn't- look pleased. He looked rather annoyed for a number of reasons. The biggest one was doubting himself. "I knew I said the right words. Daveth one.. common zero." He thought as he marked the invisible tally on the wall of his mind. Though as Aoren approached he fixed his face to seem friendly and approachable. Daveth waved his apology off, "Is okay." The Drykas said as he watched Aoren make the hand gestures, he peered at his hands and then back to Aoren. As if he was trying to understand the movements he was making. He raised a brow, and repeated them, though they made more sense to him then what Aoren did, and the reimancer would probably be able to spot his mistake in the gestures as the fluent speaker of Pavi made the motions. "You are Drykas?" He said quirking a brow, confused a bit surprised. "Why no say before? Where is you Windmarks?" Daveth seemed, well.. over joyed at the simple fact. He hadn't come into contact with many Drykas since he had been here. So many strange faces and people.. to stare into the eyes of one of his own was like a relief, a huge comfort to Daveth. Many people wouldn't be able to appreciate the simple pleasures he took. He felt like he wanted to hug Aoren, leap forward and wrap his arms around him. But he restrained himself. And then.. he began to speak in Pavi. "Right right, yeah we can spar a little first. Though, I will be the first to admit I'm rather.. unskilled in the art of fist fighting. I had never learned how to properly fight that way. I am good with my blade though." Daveth was.. different when he spoke Pavi. He didn't sound like a child, or a person with a learning disorder fumbling over his words. He seemed natural, he spoke fast actually, compared to the slow drawl he used with common as he had to take extra time to draw the words from his memory banks and then think how to apply them in the right context, which.. half the time still wasn't correct. He was animated, he was happy to speak his native language again. Though, he noticed Aoren was struggling to speak the words of their people, and began to slow down. He used simpler words, and made his hand motions slower as well. "Yes yes, I still am willing to teach you, Aoren, fear not." Though at this point, he wasn't sure if Aoren was a Drykas or someone who had picked up a bit of Pavi. He hoped it was the first one, he could use a bit of his home around, it would help him adjust. "You were at work, it's not as if you getting drunk and almost forgot your appointment today." He said with a wink, coupled with the smell, Aoren would be able to tell that may of happened to Daveth earlier that day, but he somehow managed to salvage himself and show up; sober even! "That isn't a problem," He explained in response to Aoren's comment about lakcing the knowledge on sword fighting. "You are strong, built for it." He said nodding as he looked him over. "I used to teach boys, barley able to hold a blade. You will not be a challenge as long as you are willing to listen to what I have to say. We will find a style that fits with your physical build and comfort." "Fist fighting it is, Aoren." He said rolling his shoulders and raising his fists. He put his right foot forward and put up his guard. He spit onto the ground, wincing again at the thought of the man swinging his fists at him. He knew he was going to get hurt, and probably bad. He hung his head and then picked it back up, narrowing his eyes. He could always drink it off, maybe he'd found a buddy to do so with as well. Daveth waited a moment for the young man to get his guard up, he didn't want to sucker punch him. Once he saw Aoren was ready and prepared himself he shuffled around in a circle before stepping forward and lunging out with his left hand for a quick jab, while his right came around for a hard hook. He then quickly stepped back, he didn't want to get caught by a well placed counter, and he didn't want to keep assaulting the guy. He was trying to spar with him, not rob him! He took a deep breath, lungs filling with air. He could feel his arm muscles tightening already, it had been a while since he got any physical activity done. He was a tad out of shape, and he felt it was about to catch up with him in comparison to Aoren. Daveth frowned, biting his lower lip for just a second as he prepared for Aoren's counter attack.

[Aoren]

The moment that Aoren admitted to the man that he was of Drykas heritage there was a completely new air about him. He seemed more animated. He seemed happier. He even seemed hopeful. It surprised Aoren. He had to focus to catch the gist of everything that Daveth was saying.

“It’s a long story and right now the Drykas are not really in good favor with the Knights. What with the raids and all.” He rubbed the back of his head glancing around at some of the other fighters around the Pit. He noticed that a few glances were tossed their way but it was nothing to be worried about. These days Aoren did not go around letting just everyone know that he was a Drykas. He may not have ever been to his homeland but he was absolutely certain of his heritage. He’d been given undeniable proof of it over the past year. It excited him. Still, he was largely ignorant about the ways of his own people. So he watched the Drykas man carefully as he spoke.

He caught most of what the man meant but there were some things he said, some gestures he made that were quite simply lost on Aoren. He could make an educated guess as to the context of their meaning though given the train of thought they were both following. He did his best to speak in the language Daveth seemed most comfortable with as it was apparently easier for him. To offer up some explanation for his noted lack of understanding on the finer points of the language he spoke in broken Pavi.

“Family gone. They die. I not sure.” He struggled for a moment trying to recall the few words that he knew. When he found them he spoke slowly but clearly. “Knights take into big stone house. I grow up alone. I learn what can from others.”

Aoren spoke the truth. He had no idea what had happened to his family. He was far too young to have recalled clearly. He gave Daveth a somewhat wanton look. The subject was making Aoren slightly uncomfortable. He didn’t like talking about how fragmented his sordid family history was. The young man had gone from no family to a makeshift but happy one to no family again. These were not waters he would tread through with just a casual stranger no matter how friendly they seemed.

“No more talk. Practice, yes?” Daveth seemed to have come to that conclusion too. The subject apparently just as unsettling for him as it was for Aoren once they got past the initial excitement. Aoren watched Daveth roll his shoulders which prompted the young man to drop into his defensive stance. He slid one foot behind his body, dropped his hips bending his knees slightly. He placed the majority of his weight on his rear leg then brought his arms up. His left arm he brought up to chest level closing his hand in a fist bending at the elbow. His right arm was raised to eye level at a forty-five degree angle. His palm was kept open with his fingers together and pointing skyward.

“Shall we?” Then they began circling each other. Aoren kept his guard up watching Daveth intently. He studied the man’s features. They were sharp and focused. His brow was furrowed in concentration but there was a slight hesitation in his gaze. Then it came. The Drykas stepped forward lunging forward in a quick jab. It was a move easy enough to counter. Aoren side-stepped the forward jab his eyes flashing to the right hook headed straight for his side.

Rather than dodge the blow Aoren brought his right arm down swiftly knocking aside Daveth’s arm then lunging into his own barrage of attacks. The young man tucked his left arm into his side pushing off of his rear foot sprinting forward chasing Daveth as he retreated from his initial assault. He closed his right hand into a fist then brought it up in an upper-cut just below Daveth’s floating ribs. It would be a blow that winded most men if struck properly.

The assault was a risky one. Daveth certainly would have time to step away from Aoren’s forward rush and could strike at him from the side. The young man would have been hard pressed to counter a side-swipe but it wouldn’t be impossible. It was just a matter of timing and bracing himself for the impact that would follow.

NoteDaveeeeeth! Timestamp! Nao!