PM to join [Warstorm Pavilion] Punching Your Way to Friendship

[Jez Firetongue]

Jez Firetongue 15th of Spring 517 AV Pavi/Grassland Sign , Common, Nari ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ As he looked at the fighters of the Warstorm Pavilion, Jez knew he had made a big mistake. He had never trained to fight before, and had not turned up prepared in the slightest. He also had no close associates who spent time here either, making those training mostly the smallest of acquaintances. The only ones he truly recognises were Drykas who stayed with the city year round, and even those he knew in passing or from their visits to The Healing Hoof. The men and women sparring and training themselves were mostly Diamond Clan, a Clan his own had little to do with. They were obviously strong, their toned bodies on display and glistening with sweat as they battled in a pattern of movements resembling a fireside dance, with a significant helping of violence thrown in. Jez had grown into a rider’s build, with strong thighs and a steady core, not that of a fighter. In time, perhaps, his body could adapt. For now though, he was definitely out of his comfort zone. The Drykas looked down at himself, fully dressed in new clothing and knotwork ornamentation and with no waterskin on his person, and once again thought that he had made a mistake coming here. He wasn’t really in a state of dress that anyone would consider ready to fight. He had agreed to compete in the Spring Triathlon, excited to test his riding against his kin and to see how his progress in the shortbow was coming along. The sparring event, however, he was unprepared for. He had no previous combat experience, and was wondering why he’d agreed to participate in the first place. Jez had come to the Warstorm Pavilion to see if he could pick up any tips, to learn something that might stop him from being a complete disaster in a few days’ time. Now, though, his gaze was fixed on the pair duelling it out with battle axes. If he tried to take the place of one of them for even a few moments he would definitely be injured. The speed, the moves…none of it was familiar to him. His eyes widened as he watched one of the pair spin and kick out, knocking the other off balance, followed by a declaration of their being the winner of the duel. He remained frozen in spot, stood a little way from the action, as the duellers began another round. Perhaps he should just leave... ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ || Jez Firetongue || 25 years || Drykas || Amethyst Clan || Firetongue Pavilion || Strider-Wind || The Heart of Nature Soothes the Heart of Man More Than Any Woman Can

[Quzon]

Power came from the ground.

If nothing else, that was the one thing that Quzon knew. He stood in a low squat, gathering force within his thighs, pressing his bare feet firmly into the ground then leapt straight up into the air as high as he could manage. He landed with an abrasive thud as his bulky form touched back down onto the ground; landing on the balls of his feet first to smoothly transitioning his heels down onto the ground to soften the landing.

He wasted no time in lowering himself back into a squat, pushing off of the ground a second time, keeping his hands crossed over his chest to keep the chains the heavy chain that were draped across his shoulders from sliding off. The fifty five pound length of chain forced the Myrian's hamstrings and gluteus muscles to physically launch his entire half-isur frame along with the added weight resistance high into the air. Quzon repeated the motion twenty five more times before stopping to catch his breath.

His rapidly beating heart mismatched his slow and steady breaths, inhaling deeply through his nose before exhaling though his mouth. Quzon would have moved onto his next exercise if he hadn't noticed the strange Drykas just standing around watching other people spar. Nothing about the man's body language hinted at the stranger being a warrior.

From his time training in the Taloban Army, Quzon knew only one way to deal with someone so green who walked into a training ground... the Myrian way. He himself had gone through the same type of spar initiation, only at the edge of a sharped blade. He wasn't sure if outright cutting a man in surprise would be allowed among the horseclans, so decided against it.

While dressed in only a loincloth, and wearing the chain as ornamentation, the stout tattooed form of the pale half-isur walked right up to the man to stare him down. His emerald green eyes transfixed themselves on the other mans eyes. "Kotakbil." Quzon spoke aloud in his native language of Myrian.

That was the last thing he said before lashing out with one of his arms. He sent a hammer of a balled fist to collied against Jez's skull, punching him right in the eye. "Heavy foot. Make much noise in jungle." He spoke out in roughly in common while snarling at Jez, telling him what the Myrian swear word 'Kotakbil' meant. Insulting the fact that the man had yet to earn any battle scars to be seen as a warrior in the eyes of Myri.

Quzon then let the chain fall to the ground as he lifted his balled hands, letting his right leg slide behind him as he entered into a fighting stance. If it wasn't clear by now, Jez was now officially in the middle of a fight...

[Jez Firetongue]

Jez Firetongue 15th of Spring 517 AV Pavi/Grassland Sign , Common, Nari ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Jez was still considering leaving when he saw a stranger approaching him. The man wore his hair short enough that it stood out in Endrykas. There was no braiding, beading or ribboning adorning his head, unlike the colourful assortment of items weaved over Jez. His immediate thought was that the man must be a slave, given his appearance, but his confident stride made that unlikely. He wore nothing but a loincloth and chain. If not a slave, he likely chose to exercise here in only that rather than actually being as poor as his appearance suggested. As he moved too close into Jez’s personal space for comfort, the stranger spoke a word in a tongue Jez didn’t recognise. A walahk then, a non-Drykas, Jez confirmed as he opened his mouth to ask if the stranger was seeking his help for some reason. The question was never asked, however, as in a sudden move the man slammed his fist straight into Jez’s right eye. The Drykas let out an involuntary yelp, stumbling back a few steps. He remained there, frozen in shock, for a moment. Red specks, forming from burst blood vessels, immediately started appearing in the whites of his eyes. Full bruising would surround the eye within a day and remain for a number of days after. It took a moment for him to register the blossoming pain, but when he did he grabbed at his face, cursing in Pavi. “Why would you do that?” he groaned, not hearing the translation of the stranger's insult to Common, “Ouch, jeez, I was just standing here. What’s your problem? Just ask me to move if I’m in your way!” He spoke Pavi on instinct, his natural language his go to while in shock and pain, not caring whether the stranger actually understood him. “Cultakh!” he cursed, freaking moron. He was not normally so impolite, but his words were to be expected after getting punched in the face for no reason by a stranger, and a walahk at that. He registered the stranger taking up a fighting stance in front of him and backed up, holding his hands up. “Woah, hey, what are you doing? I didn’t agree to this.” He had come here to learn to fight, but this was too sudden. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do, and was pretty sure that punching opponents in the face wasn’t in the spirit of the Triathlon he was training for. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ || Jez Firetongue || 25 years || Drykas || Amethyst Clan || Firetongue Pavilion || Strider-Wind || The Heart of Nature Soothes the Heart of Man More Than Any Woman Can

[Quzon]

For a moment, Quzon gave even more thought to the fact that he needed to learn the horse savages language if he was going to live in Endrykas any longer. He was starting to get agitated from not knowing what most people were saying. However, Quzon knew the context behind of Jez's whining and understood him on a basic level. Other than that, any other insults or meanings were trapped behind a rather strong language barrier.

As the Myrian stood there with his hands clinching into tighter fists, he glanced to both of the other males hands. He wasn't sure if he was going to fight or not, so took the waving hands as a sign of cowardice. Honestly, Jez was starting to annoy Quzon with his pitifulness.

But, Quzon didn't stop just because the Drykas hadn't been smart enough to prepare himself for combat. No. Quzon reached out with his right hand to grab Jez by his left wrist, to take control of it.

He slid his grip up to grab the side of Jez's hand with his thumb firmly pressing into the top of the Drykas males hand, Quzon twisted Jez's hand in a reverse clockwise motion so that Jez's palm had turned to face himself.

Once the hand was pointing towards its own body, Quzon reached to grab the other side of the hand to pull down on it. It was like he was trying to make Jez clap the bottom of his wrist. Which was kind of true. Quzon used the simple wrist lock to add build pressure and force pain into his wrist by pressing down.

He knew he could have turned it more to trip Jez down to the ground, but he was only using the lock as a way to get the man's attention.

"You whine. It like whore have fun with horse. Stop. You other hand free, use it. Punch me. Life not game, battle is all things. All things, small victories. Battle to wake, battle to hunt food. Battle to destroy self weakness. Be better." Quzon torqued on Jez's wrist to force a sudden moment of harsh pressure into his wrist before continuing to speak in a heavily accented, yet broken common. "Battle, war, victory... Goddess-Queen Myri rules all. We honor her right now. Now, stop you weakness. Fight me. Pray to Myri, show her small victory over you cowardice."

One of his hand let go of Jez's hand so that the hold didn't hurt as much, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to use that hand. And with a swift uppercutting motion, drove his knuckles against Jez's abdomen. "Fight back."

[Jez Firetongue]

Jez Firetongue
15th of Spring 517 AV
Pavi/Grassland Sign , Common, Nari

It turned out that putting his hands up in a sign of peace was a very bad idea. Either it was not recognised as peaceful by the walahk or he had simply chosen to ignore it. Whichever it was, the resulting actions of the stranger took advantage of his outstretched hands as he reached forward to twist the Drykas’ wrist. Jez cried out involuntarily as a thumb pressed firmly into his hand, that simple act enough for the Drykas to tell that his attacker was a much stronger man than he. Instinct bent him into the movement and ended with him looking almost as though he were cowering away.

When he thinks back on this encounter later he would think about how this walahk had some nerve to attack a Drykas within the tented city. He would realise that it was probably only due to the fact that the encounter occurred at the Warstorm Pavilion that heads weren’t already turning. In the moment, however, all he could register through his shock was the jolt of pain shooting from the centre of his hand down his wrist. Though to a fighter the hold would have been nothing, with the stranger deliberately leaving gaps exposed in his defence, it held Jez firmly in place with his sole attention on the pain radiating from his hand.

Confusion began to take over from the combined shock and pain as the stranger spoke. Was his attacker trying to insult him or teach him? Jez really couldn’t work it out. What he could gather from the choppy parts of Common that he understood was that fighting was this man’s way of life. Perhaps it was analogous to how the only thing Jez saw as a proper way of life was to work alongside a Strider within a Pavilion for survival. He was unable to think too deeply about it as the man continued to pressure his wrist, causing another cry of pain to emit from the Drykas.

It was then that his attacker spoke of Myri. He knew of Myri, of course; the Gods were openly spoken about in Endrykas, honoured through song, dance and elaborate knotwork. Each Drykas worshipped different Gods, ranging from focusing solely on prayers to Zulrav, to relying on their faith in a whole host of Gods. Jez fell into the latter group and, though he had never felt the need to seek help from her, he had no problem with the warriors who chose to pray to the war Goddess. Nonetheless, to tell another person who to worship and how to go about it was an incredible insult to the natives of Endrykas. Jez may be warm and welcoming by nature but he was not an idiot. He knew that to try and let this man know the insult he had just bestowed in a calm manner would likely be ignored. If it was the language of Myri, of battle, that the stranger spoke in, then Jez would need to reply in kind, no matter how poorly.

The Drykas shoved his unoccupied arm forward, pushing the palm of his hand at the other’s shoulder in an attempt to shove him away. It wasn’t likely to do much given that his other hand was still very much trapped in the stranger’s grip, but at least he had tried to do something. He kept his arm outstretched, palm to the other’s shoulder, to try and keep him from getting closer. It wasn’t a move that would stop the experienced fighter by any means, but it was the best he could think of as he tried to pull his captured hand free of the grip. It also gave him the confidence to respond with, “Myri is good. Myri helps The Watch protect us. But a walahk does not tell a Drykas how to pray. Big insult.” His words held the confidence of one who fully believed in what they were saying, but not the aggression of someone who could fight to defend it.

Jez was still yanking his hand, limited by the pain of the tight grip as he did so, as the walahk told him to fight back. The following punch to the abdomen made Jez groan and partly curl in on himself, a move blocked by the fact that he his wrist was still held. “I…do not know how,” he grit his teeth against the embarrassment of admitting that to someone clearly much more experienced than him, glaring up from a slightly hunched position in a simultaneous display of his annoyance at being told that not praying to Myri was wrong, and an attempt to avoid giving in to embarrassment. He had come here to learn to fight for the Triathlon, an event designed to make peace in the city, not to be harmed by a man who had not been deemed worthy to a Strider. If admitting he didn’t know how to fight made his attacker more annoyed then he’d be in just as bad a position as he was now, but there was a chance the admission would make the man either take pity on him, or realise that picking an annoyance fuelled battle with Jez wasn’t going to get him very far in satisfying the need to fight.

As he spoke Jez took back his free arm from the man’s shoulder to claw at his captured hand, the pain growing the longer it was held in position. Tugging at it wasn’t breaking the grip so perhaps attempting to grab at the man’s fingers and loosen them long enough to slip his hand away would work. As he did so he elaborated, hoping that a further explanation of why he couldn’t fight would quell the man. “Myri is your way of life. Drykas must survive with wildlife…” “…in harmony with plants and animals…” “…As a one. Caiyha, Zulrav and Rak’keli, they are my way.”

| Jez Firetongue || 25 years || Drykas || Amethyst Clan || Firetongue Pavilion || Bond to Wind |

The Heart of Nature Soothes the Heart of Man More Than Any Woman Can