The sun for a brief moment disappears behind the overhanging clouds. A wave of cool washes over us. For me at least that brief chill helps my nerves. Brogo stands before us about the field, square in the middle of the four circular sparring fields. Each devoid of grass, perfectly flattened and roped along the edges. A sweet smell carried from the breeze sweeps about the area.
Eight classes are gathered, as they are every day in the evening, just before dark. Though the eight are chosen in rotation accord to the schedule. I stand with the rest of my class, Astra and Rilla nearby as Emila stands in front, in a loose line with the leaders of the other classes. The classes each as well only consist of eight people. And beside ours on either side stands another class of unfamiliar kids. Each begin moving forward as Brogo calls them, in clockwise order to the sides of the rings. That is how our opponents would be decided, essentially at random. As we’re called to follow Emila, we move to stand opposite our opposing class.
She approaches the other leader. Giving a small acknowledgement to the slender tall boy in charge of the other class, they both step back. As always each leader chooses in what order we fight. As always she chooses herself to go first as she steps over the ropes into the ring, grabbing one of the wooden blades from the rack along the outside of the ring. She steps forward with confidence, determination as the other leader chooses her opponent. A stronger looking kid, maybe about her age, though a good bit taller. His skin more tanned, and his features foreign looking compared to most of those who came from the lands nearby. He wipes his slightly crooked nose as he himself grabs a shield and blunt wooden spear from the sides before joining her.
With a wave of the hand Brogo starts their match as he quickly turns his attention to another pair already locked in combat. The clacks of their weapons turn into background noise as I watch Emila approach her enemy. His stance is wide as he lifts his shield and spear, hers slim turning slightly to her side waiting for him to make the first move.
To which he does, giving a long thrust of the blunt stick in her direction. Watching it carefully as the strike comes in she swiftly takes a sidestep to avoid it. Her eyes like a hawk watching his every move as she continues to slowly take step after step. He in brutish fashion quickly withdrew the spear, a long step forward, shield up between the two of them. A sudden burst of speed from him as his feet stomped against the ground, a quick dash forward as his arm extends the spear. The swift strike nearly catching Emila, pulling back her side away from him. A swift twist of his shoulder and wrist brings the tip of the nearly missed spear swinging towards her for a blunt slash, this time catching across her armpit and chest. A loud huff comes from Emila as her breath escapes her. However, the hit isn’t enough to slow her down.
She quickly takes this opportunity to go low, her slender body getting close to the ground as she makes a thrust of her own underneath his shield. Too slow to react the boy looks down as her wooden blade slides between his legs. A loud crack as she strikes one knee. He tries to pull his leg aside as she swiftly strikes the other. Another loud crack as he does his best to pull away from her. Cruelly she looks upon him with cold eyes as she starts to bring the blunt blade upwards towards his groin. In a panic he swiftly brings the shield down on top of the blade, with all his might knocking it to the ground before it could strike again. Her arm going down with the blade. However she still kept the advantage, pulling her arm away leaving the sword for the ground, she takes a powerful step against the shield to push it down with his arm. Stepping up, a growl leaves her mouth as she takes a hard swing against his face. A hard smack as he stumbles back slightly.
Despite her strong hit, physically it seems he is stronger. He quickly registers the hit and retaliates. Pulling the advantage away from her he drops his own spear giving a hard straight punch to her center mass. A cough as she stumbles backwards, falling to her butt as she takes a deep gasp. He quickly gets up from his position and moves towards her, shield still strapped to his arm he puts it again between the two of them. Quick to regain her breath, she puts her agility back to use rolling over her side she pushes herself up with her hands and side. A long extended leg swings towards him as she extends her body off the ground, catching him in the side with a pained grunt his knuckles grow white gripping the wraps of his shield. A swing and the sound of rushing air as forcefully bashes her aside with his shield.
Rolling away from the hit she jumps back to her feet like a whirlwind, pushing herself towards where they had dropped their weapons. He turns around towards her with a loud huff. Charging again as she grabs her blade in one hand, the other sloppily grabs the spear with a loose hold and chucks it towards him. He easily raises the shield to block it as the impact sounds out across the crowd. According to her plan it seems as she kicks her slender legs into action rapidly rushing behind him as he reaches for his weapon. Both hands on her blade to bring in as much force as she little frame could muster, she swings with her soft voiced roar striking him hard in the back. A loud hack from him as he hits the ground with a thud, his face looking into the dirt. She brings her hands back to strike again with ruthlessness. Yet, seeing the boy hit the ground Brogo takes a step forward, casting his hand towards our side, symbolizing her victory.
Barely does she stop herself from swinging down against him with impunity. A fire in her eyes tells me she would be full well ready to strike him till he refused to get up. With a huff she wipes her nose and rubs her head as she moves over the ropes back to our side. A couple others from the opposing class move in to collect their classmate. As they remove him Emila turns back to the lot of us.
“Cain.” She lets out a huff, still ragged of breath. “You’re next.” She continues in a rough tone. Still a faint quiver in her hands from the fight.
“Oh, yeah.” I say to her flatly, as this would be the first time she’s chosen me to go directly after her. Usually, I don’t think she takes me very seriously. I guess that’s mostly because usually the only times she’ll talk to me is to tell me what’s wrong with my form, or how I should be improving. And only that I think is because she takes her role as a leader her very seriously. Disregarding that I look back to Astra who gives me a smirk, and to Rilla with her usual look of worry.
“You got it, no doubt from me.” Says Astra, eyes closed in resolute confidence. “If ya win I’ll share my dessert with you tonight. And you know how important dessert is to me.” She finishes with a fake serious face and a grumpy looking huff. Not long before that expression cracks into a smile.
“I believe in you.” Rilla says softly, joining Astra’s sentiments. Her soft demeanor and eyes look upon me, trying her best to maintain her composure. Yet still, I can see the dread underneath.
I take a calming breath, the sweet smell on the breeze becoming buried by the stench of sweat. Stepping forward I look over the long rack holding the various training arms to use. I haven’t really decided what I’m best with, or what I like using. Spear, sword, axe, mace, even a mock flail with a rope and wooden ball connected to a wooden shaft.
I take a glance over to see who exactly my opponent would be this time. What I wasn’t expecting is for it to be the Faitan in their class. The Faitan are ones of dragon’s blood. Probably about as different from the rest of us as I could imagine. Her body scaled over with light grey scales that glimmer faintly in the soft evening light. Save however for her chest and belly, running from her collar and neck down to her thighs is something softer looking than the scales that run down her forearms and back. The palms of her hand soft looking as well as they grip a simple slick staff as her weapon of choice. Her face very different from my own, her long muzzle with dimple like nostrils, yet still slender and distinctly feminine looking. Her bright golden eyes with sweeping eye ridge above them coming to almost wing like ears. A tough scaley ridge running along t he outside of her large floppy ears, while the inside looks to be made of the same membrane that covers her belly.
I’ve only really had a chance to see a Faitan once before coming here. Back in my village of Blythe, a group of them stopped by on their travels into the mainland. It was a year ago now and I asked questions until I was told to stop being a bother. They told me a bit about where they came from. Enough to learn it’s very far off from here. They even squashed my dreams of ever seeing a full-blooded dragon in person, they are apparently very rare nowadays. Not that any of that matters right now.
I decide to pick the longsword as my weapon of choice this time, else I worry that she’ll have to much of a reach advantage against me. Already she’s slightly taller than I am. Stepping into the ring I can see her long tail impatiently patting against the ground.
I raise my wooden blade, holding it in a stance across my chest. Her eyes flicker as she squints raising her staff, I can see the tenseness enter her tail as it curls and stiffens, shifting about the leather skirt she wears across her waist. Brogo flashing his broken toothy smile as he turns to us, giving his signal to begin.
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I don’t know much about the Faitanese but dragons in stories and the legends have always been strong and fearless. If she’s anything like them even a little bit I wouldn’t want her to have the upper hand. So to try and get the advantage I plant my feet firmly, charging her first. Giving a heavy swing against her, she brings her staff forwards to block it. The impact pushes her back slightly as I see her dig her barefoot claws into the dirt. She digs in hard as she slinks down, our weapons still locked. She tries to give a powerful push to knock myself and my weapon away. I loosen up slightly to allow her to push forward to my side, allowing my wooden blade to slide against her staff. I side step her shove and scrape the tip of my blade against her staff bringing it in towards her body, connecting against the etch leather top she’s wearing. I continue my swing till I have the wooden sword behind her back. She retaliates with a twisting of her staff, impacting the butt of it against my hip, pushing me slightly off balance.
I struggle to catch myself a second as I swing hard against her scaled back. It impacts with a thud. Though it didn’t seem to hurt her that much as she reacted little beyond a light huff. Twisting around she lashes at my face with her tail, like a light whip it hits against my cheek. I felt my check pressed against my jaw, my teeth digging into the soft side of my cheek, giving a light metallic taste to my mouth. Before I manage to reorient myself, I can see her carrying the momentum of her twirl and trying to bring it around into a powerful hit with her staff. I drop myself to the ground to avoid it as it swings overhead.
I don’t know how to fight against her, or a Faitan, or how to use a blade against a staff. So I decide on something reckless. I abandon my blade in the dirt, instead steeling myself. I launch myself at her with a tackle. She didn’t seem to expect it as I impact into her unscaled belly. At this she lets out more than a huff. Pushing against her I raise my hand, grabbing at her wrist as she attempts to bring her staff down onto me. Taking my other hand I grab at the back of her knee. Putting all my shoulder and weight into it I attempt to twist my body to lift her. She’s heavier than I expected, and I’m not as strong as someone like Astra. I struggle too much to bring her over my shoulder. But just enough to get her from the ground. Pulling her leg out from under her, I shift my momentum to bring her down as I lift her leg my shoulder digging into her chest. She struggles, trying to push my shoulder away leaving her staff held by one hand.
I can see her confusion at my move as her back hits the dirt. I drop my full weight onto her. She lets out a groan only a Faitan could as the wind is knocked from her. She responds with a strong punch to my side. I groan as it impacts where her staff had hit, adding to the pain. I can feel it growing more tender as she pulls back and strikes it again. I reach out to grab at her staff with both hands, rolling my back against her. I pull the staff from her hands as she reaches out around my neck with her arm, she locks me into a hold with her on the ground. Locking her arms despite my struggling I can’t manage to break it. With little thought to it, I tuck my head in ward. I swing the staff towards hers. Though I can’t get too much power behind the swing I feel it impact against her. A cheer came from the crowd, Astra celebrating the hit.
“Ow!” She sounds out loudly, releasing my hold to grab at her muzzle where I struck her. She looks at me with a displeased face as I roll away from her.
Getting back to my feet I hold the staff over her, the slowly setting sun casting a long shadow across her draconic form. She holds out a hand as if to protect herself as I loom over her. She seemed in pain, so much so that I must have struck some sort of weak point. At least that thought passed through my head for a moment before she jumped to her feet, wrapping both of her strong draconic arms around my legs. With a burst of strength, she tried her best to lift me over her head as I had tried to do to her. Yet it seems she wasn’t strong enough for that either as both of us fall over to the side. Trying my best to free my legs, I struggle to pull my legs away from her, but she has a strong hold on them. Instead, I gather as much force as I can into a single kick against her stomach. At which she produced a loud bluh like sound before releasing me.
Picking myself up with my hands, bringing myself to my knees I see her doubled over grabbing at her stomach. Brogo launches a hand towards our group, signifying our match was over. I let out a huff, my breathing so ragged I don’t think I could talk at the moment. I stagger up to my feet before approaching her. I did mean to kick into her weak spot, but I didn’t intend to hurt her badly. I go up to her to ensure she isn’t hurt too bad. As I take my deep breaths in and out, I just offer her a hand to help her to her feet.
Her golden eye looking up at me as her muzzle presses itself into a frown. Nevertheless, she still accepts my offer. The smooth scales of her palm feel slightly cold to the touch against my arm. I grab at her forearm to help. Those scales along the back of her arm rigid and tough, felt almost as if I were touching bone. She lets a huff, her other hand still rubbing against her stomach. I feel a bit bad for her in that moment, though I know if I didn’t kick her she likely would have overpowered me.
As I leave her to join the others of my class I can hear Astra before I even cross the rope. “Haha! That was pretty good. I can see you’ve been taking some tips from watching me huh?” She says boisterously as she meets me crossing over. “Guess I’m sharing my dessert tonight, damn.” Playfully continuing as she helps pat the dirt off my back.
“Heh, yeah.” I say, a little proud at my victory. Overall I’d say I may only win about half the time. And never have I gone up against a Faitan. So my morale is pretty high as I look about Astra with her glee and Rilla with her look of relief. “I was worried for a moment too when I saw who it was.” I admit readily to the two of them. “She took the first hit without even flinching. I thought I was done for.” I say as my breath again begins to normalize.
Rilla approaching softly touches my side. “Does it hurt?” she asks in a concerned tone.
It’s true she did strike the same spot repeatedly, and it does hurt. But I wouldn’t want to worry her. “Yeah, a bit. But it’s alright. Maybe just a bruise later.” I try to give her a comforting smile to ease her soul.
“Hey, he’s taken worse than that from the obstacle course.” Astra butts in jovially. “We’ll help ya ice it once we head back in. And my dessert will help ease that pain I’m sure.” She nods as if to affirm her own words.
“It better be something good today, or I don’t think my ribs will forgive me.” I respond cheerfully to her.
However, are words are cut through as Emila calls out, “Robin. You’re next” she gestures for the young girl towards the back of the group of us to come forward.
I look to Emila a moment before looking back. Robin was a young girl, who’s just about my age. Though she was much shyer, and quieter compared to the others. She barely spoke at all most of the time. There is quite a bit to her though. Standing just a tad shorter than I am, her thin body along her left side is scarred heavily. From her eye down the side of her leg is marked with the scars of fire. Some patches untouched here and there, though it was maybe the first thing anyone would notice when they looked upon her. Her hair dark and falling to her shoulders is filled with patches of white and grey, especially on that side. Her eyes grey like Astras, except again for the left side eye is marked with patches of red. She regardless of hour of the day is wearing a one-piece dress that covers her entire chest and waist but leaves off at the thighs. Usually however she puts something over top of that, often dresses that leave only a single flap of cloth falling between her legs.
With her always, is her artifact. A gnarled staff pole, the handle wrapped with olde bandage like parchment. The pommel a simple unpolished knot of wood. It for the most part looks rather unassuming. I wouldn’t have thought it anything more than a walking stick if I wasn’t told about it. Though still I know little about it, or artifacts in general. In fact, though she is part of our class she is apparently heavily magically gifted and usually has someone else working with her specifically. Except for days when we do group activities such as now, in which she’s a part of our class.
She reluctantly steps forward, handing off her staff to Astra. Magic is forbidden in the sparring matches and her artifact is some type of magical object, a special one. When we were told about it, they say it’s soulbound to her. Not that I really understand what that means, beyond only she is capable of using it. Thus she hands it off before moving to get into the area. She takes a shield and a mock mace before stepping in.
Looking across from her, her opponent would be the leader of the other class. He was taller, older, and definitely stronger looking. This doesn’t really seem to be a fair match at all. Though there’s not anything we can do about that, as it is everyone must fight once. And unfair matches, just happen sometimes.
That proves to be true quickly. The boy takes a few dramatic steps forwards, giving a strong slash with his blunt blade against her shield. She recluses behind it trying desperately to protect herself as he strikes, again, and again. Each strike accompanied by a hard thunk of wood against wood and the soft whimper from its weilder. It’s almost as if he was toying with her. He could have swung around to hit her, but he seems delighted in it. His dark hair shifting back and forth with each swing. His thin lips cross with a scar press into a smirk as he continues his assault as she cowers beneath his swings.
Until a cacophony of chirping assaults our ears. Many begin stopping what they were doing to turn their heads to look at the source of the intrusive noise. More delverbirds taking to the skies from the forest edge nearest us. A whole huge flock of them. I’ve never seen so many before take to the skies, and now they are in droves. Brogo who moves passed us stares up at the flock in awe, just by looking at his face I can tell at the hint of terror beneath his expression.
“Move back! Back I say!” He begins to shout as loud as he can, his deep bellowing voice vibrating my very being. Confusion begins to sweep over everyone in the field. Something must be coming, something must have disturbed them, but I freeze in place having no idea what to do.