mmm, ramblesmith.
At the familiar crack, he knew that his blow did not hit it's target; but before he could retract his weapon it was thrust down, and Aemon stumbled. The pale coyote recovered quickly, but as he did he felt the hard contact of Helotes' weapon on his body. Instantly, he struck back, ducking under the other man's weapon and swiping it hard to the side. As he rose, half-standing, Aemon stepped in and aimed a jab of the blunt-ended stick at the darker Lykoi's ribcage. He could easily do damage there if the blow was hard enough; knock the air from his lungs, or even puncture one with a stabbing weapon.
The young de le Poer felt his own lungs expanding and heaving, large steamy clouds rolling from his panting tongue. Crimson eyes stared through Helotes, watching each move closely. His new student had odd methods, but he was learning. Black lips curled with satisfaction, always pleased to see his efforts were not in vain. Teaching was his Spiritual Gift. Realizing this had caused Aemon to focus himself on teaching others what he knew. Aemon still had learning to do, he knew, and that was why he was here; his father's teachings were rich in this land, and that invisible influence was strong enough to keep him here. He wanted to learn those ways, and here some lay. Within his half-brother the Aquila, and even his young ward, Max, he saw these things. The ferocity that he observed in Helotes as well was worth noting, and Aemon absorbed each detail.
.aemon-1 b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; }
.aemon-1 .ooc { font-style:none; padding:0px; font-family: 'Gothic', serif; font-size:11px;}
.aemon-1 p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 16px; margin:0px;}
.aemon-1 {margin:0px auto; width:450px; background-color:none; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/X3QXK.png); background-position:center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 10px 0px 10px 0px; font-family: Trebuchet MS, serif; font-size:12px; color:#FFFFF; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;}
</style>