Solo the soul of a city.

[Caelum]

OOCOfficial Kuvan test thread! I wanna fit in to the perfect space, feel natural and safe in a volatile place. And I wanna grow old without the pain, give my body back to the earth and not complain. Will you understand when I am too old of a man? And will you forget when we have paid our debt, Who did we borrow from? Who did we borrow from? I have some business and a promise that I have to hold to. I do not care what you assume or what the people told you. I wanna have pride like my mother has, And not like the kind in the bible that turns you bad. And I wanna have friends that I can trust, that love me for the man I've become and not the man that I was. - Avett. Timestamp: 04 Winter 513 AV “It was with pleasure that I received word you decided to apply for Kuvan status,” Ismail Bahram, grand master of the Tuvya Sasarin, greeted Caelum. His shadow was stark against the threshold, breaking in the morning light. Sober eyes made their usual inspection of the ethaefal who had been his pupil for the past season, beginning at the very tips of what were now pine and gold colored horns and ending at the battered toes of boots. “Do believe yourself to be ready?” Caelum paused before the Akalak, golden eyes slanting up even while the line of his mouth twisted with amused self-deprecation. “Do you, grand master?” Ismail raised his eyebrows and stepped aside to beckon Caelum within. The dull thuds and grunts and echoing conversation carried from the center of the building into the foyer the ethaefal found himself in. “That is not what I asked,” Ismail reminded his pupil. “You have not improved in your answers, I see.” Caelum’s grin flashed, snapping out like sunfire, bright and unexpected answer to Ismail’s private humor. They had spent the majority of their time together in the fall performing a verbal dance along with their martial dance. The Grand Master possessed a hungry mind, a curious, prying sort of slant to it that had applied itself from time to time to Caelum and the mysteries he posed. As there was no malice in Ismail’s miniature investigation, Caelum had suffered it with good humor. Understanding that it was the puzzle rather than the picture it formed when completed that grand master enjoyed the most, Caelum had also ducked and weaved, deflected and dodged his way around Ismail’s second tier offense. Notably, he had displayed a great deal more aptitude for dodging questions than he had for dodging blows. “If I am not ready,” Caelum acquiesced, pausing just within the doorway to the main training room with Ismail. “Then it is unquestionably due to the limitations of my own discipline rather than your ability to instruct and to teach.” Ismail inclined his head to these formal words, accepting them in the kindness they were offered; but by his expression, he remained unsatisfied. “When you leave here today,” he told Caelum quietly. “You will either belong or you will not. But this belonging is merely physical. There is no test for your heart and your mind. Those only come in time and with hardship.” “You speak of conviction,” Caelum murmured, eyes low with thought. “I speak only what words knowing you have told me,” Ismail volleyed. “Our society is changeable.” The physician’s regard snapped up, but he found no answers to the new mysteries Ismail proposed to him in the Akalak’s sober countenance. “All societies are, grand master.” He smiled, faint and wry with his understanding. “You are a healer.” Ismail shrugged. “You know of what I speak.” “I do,” Caelum agreed, words heavy with consideration. He cast the Akalaks sparring through the sunlit room a long and lingering glance before sinking down to remove his shoes and lay them along with the rest. “Debridement. Sometimes you must wound to heal.”

[Caelum]

“You are in a unique position to potentially understand the dual nature of my people,” Ismail continued, sober words plodding; but Caelum knew better than to mistake their steady nature for dispassion. He rose back to his feet and, sweeping a glance to the grand master, he dropped from the waist to flatten his hands to the floor on either side of his feet, stretching out his limbs. “My people who, should you pass this test today, will become yours,” Ismail added. The large Akalak stepped quietly aside to allow his pupil more room to warm up. The words he spoke, however, assured that no distance formed in the intimacy of their conversation. Theirs was a relationship that had been built with fists and bone, words largely unecessary save for the punctuation of a point. The web of communication that had woven between them while the world cooled and the leaves grew brittle was unexpected but valuable to Caelum. He had learned far more than how to throw a punch from the wise Akalak, and it was his great hope that Ismail in turn had learned some small thing from him as well. Caelum braced one foot outside and stretched into a lunge, grabbing his right elbow with his left hand to pull his arm across his chest and loosen the ligaments in his shoulder as he did so. “If they are to be mine, grand master, then it is my duty to defend in them in all ways I am able,” he answered his teacher’s implied question slowly and shifted into a left footed lunge, feeling muscles ache and then ease. “There are a myriad of ways to defend my people,” Ismail returned, his tone a little sharp. “And equally as many things to defend them from. Some of them less obvious and acceptable as others. Use your imagination, Caelum.” The use of his name had Caelum cutting his eyes back up to Ismail, and he silently straightened back to his full height and shook out his limbs. Ismail rolled a soft step closer, their words lost in the general cacophony of the training room. “Consider the needs of the Kuvay’nas,” Ismail said. “I think my particular skill set would be of ill use,” Caelum muttered, rolling back down to his heels. He did not step away. "And I am not Akalak." “There is a branch in which it would not.” Ismail almost smiled, all of Akajia’s shadows echoed in it. “And in which few would care what race you are. You would not be a part of them. You would be helping them.” Caelum’s eyes sharpened, and he returned Ismail a smile of his own along with a respectful nod of his head. He understood, and he would consider. “Let’s begin.” Ismail shifted the course of their conversation with a gesture of a broad arm to the mats, and Caelum followed.

[Caelum]

“Caelum, this is Osdyn and Alvikin. They will be your sparring partner for your test.” Ismail introduced the red skinned Akalak who stepped away from a group of trainees to meet them in the center of the mats. An elegant, fractal-like design twisted up the man’s arm and glinted a rich blue in the sunlight. Caelum recognized Nysel’s gnosis mark with a start and immediately began a further, visual examination of his surprising partner. It was surprising for several reasons, the first of which being that Caelum had foolishly assumed that Ismail, as his teacher, would be the one he would fight. The greater surprise, however, was the fact that of the Akalak’s gnosis marks. It took a few ticks, but eventually recognition dawned for the ethaefal and a smile flashed across his face. “An honor, High Priest of Nysel,” Caelum greeted Riverfall’s honored dreamguide. Curiosity piqued, bright as the flash of sunlight on steel; but with it came an uneasy curl of wariness as well. The god of dreams had been among of Caelum’s most treasured deities for long lives, and indeed it was that same son of Akajia and Wysar who had compelled him back to Riverfall. All the same, he had yet to be favored by Nysel’s presence and marked again as one of the Cytali of old. It made him wonder what the gods had in store for him now, and as he watched the private smile spread over Osdyn’s face he understood well enough that the game was already afoot. He had better be prepared. “A pleasure, Caelum,” the priest returned politely, nothing but a gently mocking glint in his eyes giving anything away. Caelum glanced over at Ismail and he raised an eyebrow in inquiry at the grand master. Ismail, for his part, but shrugged strong shoulders. “He volunteered,” he offered stoically and then raised his voice authoritatively. “Caelum, a healer at the Sanctuary, is being tested for competency in unarmed combat so as to become a citizen of our city. He will spar with Osydin and Alvikin, full contact, to a score of ten.” The ethaefal rolled up to the balls of his feet and back down again, bouncing a little as the resonance of the grand master’s words began the pump of nervous adrenaline into his system. Golden eyes continued to assess Osdyn and when the Akalak’s expression underwent a broad shift in expression, he suspected that Alvikin had emerged. Caelum watched and listened to the stillness in the center of himself, letting that encompass his conscious mind even as his limbs arranged themselves into the first position of his kata. With great care, he snapped his mind into three distinct pieces: one for combat, one for ranuri, and one for the continued assessment of all data because he had definitely been put on guard. Ismail stepped back, leaving Caelum alone with Alvikin in the center of the mats. “Begin.”

[Caelum]

Alvikin came at him like a nightmare. It was on delay that Caelum thought to step into the appropriate counter defense of his kata for Alvikin's full body rush. The Akalak moved with incredible grace and the first breaths went by too fast, leaving Caelum off balanced and dazed. The blow caught him in the ribs, knocking the breath out of him even as he attempted to spin off to the side. He shifted his weight so that he could attempt to take advantage of the Akalak's open knee joint, but the kick went wide and he was forced to jerk backwards in an awkward dance so as to remain on his feet rather fall flat on his butt in the first ten seconds of his citizenship test. Rattled, Caelum fell back on his earliest lessons of combat -- his hands came up in a sweeping, butterfly motion and he hunted up his balance with a realignment of his spine and the positioning of his hips and shoulders. It was purely defensive, tactics meant to keep a body standing and in the best possible stance to protect the vulnerable face. I want to start with defensive techniques, Cian Noc had explained on a long ago morning in the cold and the dark. Largely because you're a complete failure at life and seem to constantly be pissing people off. Well, he hadn't been wrong. His feet moved before the rest of him caught him, automatically having him side step so a jab for his throat even as his hands blew upward, swiping hard against the inner knob of Alvikin's wrist. When the Akalak twitched, Caelum took that chance to duck in. He curled his fingers tight into a fist and rotated his shoulder a quarter of an inch around while pummeling his energy into a hook for Alvikin's ribcage -- paying like for like. He connected and the impact stung through him. An attempt was made to ignore the momentary shock as he brought in his left fist for a follow up blow, the impact coming at the same time his opponent hooked his thumbs under his jaw and pried the ethaefal back and off of him like an unexpected leech. The pressure point targeting was remarkably effective, sending twitches of pain and instinctive physical struggle shooting through the nervous system. Caelum blew out a breath, grinning, even as they danced apart. He shook out his arms and shifted his jaw one way and then the other, working out the ache. He caught something wicked in the glint of the high priest's eyes, and he couldn't help the chuckle that warmed silently through his chest. More than a few good blows had been exchanged in that tangle, and he knew that Alvikin had the measure of him now. The high priest had let him in so he could put him on the scale. How like a bloody dreamer. Hoping that he measured up, Caelum's limbs criss crossed to turn him far more fluidly than before into a quickened stage of his kata. This would bring him sideways, stretching out for a kick to Alvikin's knee in the first glance. Of course, Alvikin was already moving himself.

[Caelum]

The red skinned Akalak and the sun blasted ethaefal swung around each other on the mats, exchanging a handful of quick, vicious blows that kept the fight moving at a punishing pace. Alvikin had deciding edge on skill over Caelum, and of that there was no question, but Caelum was fast, faster than perhaps the priest of Nysel had anticipated. His style was also perfectly tailored to counter a wide range of offense. In fact, Ismail Bahran had spent a large part of the fall season not just training Caelum, but studying the details of the fighting style he had come to them with. There was a story there, but Caelum kept them with the others mostly trapped behind his teeth. Your soul is not a road, Caelum. It is a map and it is full of holes. There are unmarked game trails in the forest of you and the migratory patterns of your thoughts are not completely charted in the rivers of your reasoning. I am not here to teach you how to read your own map. You know how already. I am trying to teach you how to navigate through it. Do you understand? His fingers closed around the strength of his opponent's wrist even as he twisted into the punch. Dropping his right shoulder, he plowed the Akalak around with his own momentum. A hard blow to his stomach expelled his breath, but he was already committed. It meant he suffered a second blow to his midsection before with the shove of his foot and the twist of his shoulders he managed to flip the larger Akalak over his hip and onto his back, full out on the mats they were sparring upon. This happened just in time, because a heartbeat later the shield of Caelum's practiced meditation subsumed to the pressure of continued physical contact and dissolved beneath the force of Nikali's divine power. Desire thrust through the ethaefal, rushing into his very bloodstream until his ears rang with the rattle of blood colored chains and the soft susurrus of a stranger's wants. Momentarily stunned, Alvikin managed to deliver a swing kick that brought Caelum down to the mats with them. They fall on each other in a tangle of straining limbs, attempting to gain the vital ground to successfully retrain the other. The flavor of Alvikin's desire translated itself into physical activity for Caelum, motivating him to fight harder. It was not so much that Alvikin wanted Caelum to win. No, Alvikin wanted Caelum to be worthy. A fresh surge of energy slammed the Akalak back onto the mats and allowed Caelum to roll on top, shoving a knee into the crook of Alvikin's elbow and lowering with his forearm to throat for full submission. Before he could complete the move, however, the word suffered through a miniature explosion of pain. It temporarily blinded the ethaefal. You keep this hand up, protecting your face. Syna knows that’s all you’ve got going for you. Gods, but Cian would be pissed. Caelum found himself staring at the ceiling while Ismail's voice rang out with authority, signalling an end to the spar and therefore to Caelum's citizenship test. Alvikin's weight moved off of him and he exhaled, automatically accepting the priest's hand up to his feet when it was offered. Did losing mean he failed? Or did he make a good enough show for himself? These questions and more crowded his brain even as he caught both his breath and the edge of his ranuri back up inside of himself. He rubbed a knuckle at his bloody nose, squinting down at the smear on his hand with mild surprise before with the absent mindedness of a healer he ended up just wiping it on the thigh of his pants Ismail, Alvikin, and a heavyset Akalak Caelum did not recognize had put their heads together and were clearly under discussion of the technical points of the spar. The Akalaks took their time ruminating over Caelum's test results, and he spent it putting his shoes back on and then falling into a muttered conversation with one of the onlookers to the spar. The young Akalak spoke to him around a ugly split lip, causing Caelum to smirk and waggle his right hand at the boy, that which was clearly marked by Rak'keli. He felt better after channeling that holy energy through and ultimately out of himself, and he his new friend was delighted. Perceiving an audience, Caelum looked up to watch his instructor walk toward him. Ismail's expression was stoic as ever, and it offered Caelum nothing. The ethaefal drew himself up, shoving out of his slouch against the wall to offer first Ismail and then Alvikin -- Osdyn? he was smirking now -- a respectful nod. Caelum dropped his eyes when Ismail held out a slip of paper, and he automatically accepted it. Before he could read what was written on it, Ismail drew back his attention with a quiet clearing of the throat. "You were ready," the grand master told the ethaefal simply. For the first time, their smiles matched.

[Gossamer]

The Fates Have Spoken.

Player: Caelum
XP: Rhetoric: +2, Observation +2, Unarmed Combat: +3, Meditation +1
Lores: Rhetoric: Humility In One’s Viewpoint Of One’s Skill, Self Discipline: Separating one’s mind into three distinct pieces: one for combat, one for ranuri, and one for the continued assessment of all data, Alvikin: One hell of a fighter, Combat: Using Nikali’s gnosis to your advantage. Alvikin: Wants Caelum To Be worthy of Kuvay’Nas Status, Meditation: the way it can help oneself in combat.

Notes: .I would totally give you points in smartassary, but alas it is not a real skill in Mizahar. But I did give you Rhetoric for your cheeky and humble answers to the grand master. I would have loved to give you +5 for Unarmed, but there were actually only 2 posts of fighting, and one of stretching and getting mentally prepared. At your level I gave you credit for the stretching and the mental preparation. If you would like to break the last two posts up, add a bit more combat, I can give you more XP gladly.

As always PM me if you have issues.