[p] the desert after nightfall

Ithiel de le Poer · 04-14-2012, 04:03 AM

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(--)

Ithiel is by me!

The half-full moon cast silvery light down over the caves, but it was not enough for Ithiel. The dusky-furred coyote was working hard at his arrows and his bows, carving and carving. A small pile of shortened, straight sticks sat beside him, and another pile, less neat, of those he deemed unusable or those that had broken beneath his blade before him. For this work, he had brought the oil lamp out of the depths of his cave, sitting it on a rock behind his head. It burned brightly and cast orange light down over his fingers, though he had to sit in a somewhat awkward position in order not to block his own light with a shadow.

Zedekiah murmured something, and Ithiel glanced at him, sparing no words for his vulture. The diurnal bird was up past his bedtime, and Ithiel thought he ought to go inside, but he was not one to micromanage the lives of his companions. Zedekiah would hop down and retreat into the cave in due time, when he was ready. The dusky coyote set his knife and his current arrow down, stretching sore fingers first, then sorer arms, then sore legs as he finally stood up, bending and stretching this way and that until the tension was gone from him. There was still soreness, aches and pains from his injuries, but all were healing well.

Alma · 04-14-2012, 04:33 AM

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*pounces*

The coyote woman was greatly dissatisfied with her performance in her first battle. Most of it she had spent trying to dodge and outmaneuver a rider on horseback. She'd been somewhat successful, in that she hadn't died. The cost was that she had gained new wounds, although none were so debilitating that she couldn't move - they were just painful. It was something she had to get used to, she knew, but she didn't enjoy it.

She fidgeted in the darkness of her cave. Her mind repeated the fight over and over in her head, and each time she wondered what she might have done differently--and always, she came to the same conclusion. She didn't know enough to defeat that woman, and she never would unless she learned. The coywolf picked herself up and left the den, hoping she might interrupt Vesper on her patrols, or else she'd ask one of the other clan warriors if she stumbled upon them.

Alma had not wandered far before she noticed a light outside. Curiosity instantly drew her to it, like a moth to a flame. Her ears tipped forward at the sound of woodcarving and some bird-like mumble. The scent of the vulture filled her nostrils.

"Hello, Ze... Zed..." She waved a hand in apology and shrugged. She had noticed the dusky coyote, but it didn't occur to her as rude to greet the bird first. She found him fascinating still, and it was difficult to control her urge to watch him.

Reluctantly, she turned her head to Ithiel."Hello." She eyed the carvings with some interest - they would have to talk about such things later, but for now, Alma wanted a teacher. "Do you know how to fight? Without a bow, that is."

Ithiel de le Poer · 04-14-2012, 04:52 AM

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Ithiel is by me!

The night was not so deep Ithiel was drawn inside yet, and so he remained, craning his neck back. He studied the sky and stars as he stretched this way, though his ears flicked at the sounds of an approach, and his gaze was quickly leveled back to earth, seeking the approaching canine. He recognized her after a moment, her flame-colored hair a signature marking with which he identified her. As the woman stepped forward, she delivered a greeting to the bird first. Ithiel absorbed this without comment, and instead briefly dipped his head in greeting. Her question was direct, and the dusky coyote needn't ponder too hard to discern the cause of it: they were all on edge lately. Inferni had been attacked. They had good reason to want to gauge each other's strengths.

The dusky man exhaled and nodded his slim coyote's head, red eyes regarding her openly. Yes. I don't prefer it, but I can fight with tooth and claw and fists. Knives, and maybe swords, too, he said. He had trained with many weapons in Scintilla, though "training" in some cases was a single session in the yard. I can't say I am an expert, but I can fight in many ways. I prefer the bow, though. Why? His own question was just as direct; the dust-colored coyote was not a gentle personality. Tiptoeing around one's meaning and intent was simply a waste of time.

Alma · 04-14-2012, 05:16 AM

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...

A hint of disappoint crossed her face when he said preferred the bow, but some knowledge was better than no knowledge. The answer satisfied her still; she wouldn't have to go trekking all across Inferni's land to find someone. "The wolves fight in ways I do not know how to counter." Her words were as frank as his, though she did pause to consider how many details of the battle she would reveal. Running away struck her as a cowardly thing to do, and she had no idea how the dusky male might take it An outright lie, however, didn't strike her as good either. She was wounded, and he might notice even if it was dark. "My opponent had a sword, and a horse, while I had only a bow. I could only wound her once."

The unspoken message was that the wolf had found it far easier to wound her; the dagger wounds on hip and shoulder indicated that. It took her only a moment to decide which subject she would ask about - bladed weapons, obviously, for that was what the wolf had attacked her with. "Can you teach me something about knives?" Belatedly, she regretted that she didn't think to bring the knife that she had gained from the battle. It struck her as ironic to use something that had wounded her against Inferni's enemies. The coyote gave a very slight smile at this thought.

Ithiel de le Poer · 04-14-2012, 05:27 AM

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Ithiel is by me!

Ithiel nodded -- it was as he expected. Few in Inferni knew how to fight these wolves, and he amongt them, was inexperienced at best. Scintilla had trained him and prepared him, but it had not made him a war-hardened general. He was vulnerable and susceptible to beginner's mistakes, as many were. The best he might hope for was that his own training made such mistakes less likely. His own opponent had fought with bow and crossbow, and thus they had been evenly matched. Against a wolf with a sword, spear, or anything with melee capabilities and just a bit of reach, however, Ithiel did not think he would fare much better than his fellow Infernians. We were not prepared, and we still are not. Their armor and weapons... we cannot match that, the man said, shaking his angled head from side to side. There was an expression on his face almost like a grimace, and he regarded her with those fiery eyes. None of us.

The dust-colored hybrid studied the wounds on her, the markings of battle he himself bore. I will teach you what I know, he said, simply, reaching across his body to pluck his knife from its sheath along his upper arm. He held it out to her, blade first. Now? the gesture seemed to prompt. Ithiel did not believe in optimal conditions for training: he himself had trained in the bitter cold, the blistering heat, and all manner of other weather types. Nighttime was just another of the scenarios in which an attacker might threaten the clan, and Alma and all the rest should be prepared to face such a challenge, should it come to pass.

Alma · 04-14-2012, 05:51 AM

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...

She was grateful that he had not asked any details about the fight, and her lie by omission could continue. Ezekiel and Emmanuelle surely had seen her running at some point, but she didn't want to deal with the awkwardness that would ensure if she told anyone else how she dealt with the problem.

We were not prepared, and we still are not. Their armor and weapons... we cannot match that, none of us.

The coyote returned his grim words with a stare, not sure of what to say to that. She could say something hopeful, but it was a lie. She had seen the enemy and what they had as well as he did, and couldn't make that falsehood pass her lips. Alma settled with a nod, rather than a verbal reply.

The orange coyote took the knife from him. She inspected it, turning it over in her paws. Mentally, she was comparing it to the knife she'd gained from the battle. At this moment, she couldn't tell a difference. With bows she could tell the type of wood and the shape, and thus how far or how well it might shoot, but this weapon was entirely foreign to her.

She gripped the knife in her paw, and looked up at Ithiel with a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. It wasn't that it was the wrong time or place, it was that she didn't know how or where to start - then again, that was what he was there for.

Ithiel de le Poer · 04-14-2012, 06:19 AM

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(--)

Ithiel is by me!

She did not ask many questions, Ithiel noticed, nor was she prone to speaking at length. Both of these traits were ones he appreciated -- Myrika was quite different -- where his red-haired cousin preferred to fill the silence with anything and everything. The dust-colored hybrid peered toward her as she took the knife, his crimson eyes appraising her inspection and finally her grip. Her look was met with a shake of his head, though it was not unkindly.

The granite-furred coyote stepped forward and gingerly took the knife back from her, reversing it in her hand so the blade was almost parallel to her forearm. You hold it backwards at first. When you grip forward, you can stab and slice with better accuracy, he told her, but hold like this, and you strike with more power. You are no good now, so you want power, not accuracy. He moved her arm up and down, showing her she could slash both ways. Now, when you strike, you can come up, slice, then come back down, slice. Stabbing, too, but slicing is better with this grip.

Alma · 04-14-2012, 06:59 AM

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...

The coyote paid close attention to his explanation, and each movement he made with her arm. The mention of wanting power over accuracy had her nodding. Chopping down wood, using a bow - all these things had made her arms lean and strong, but they didn't guarantee a victory when she was placed with a weapon she didn't know how to use. Now, she knew how to use it to her advantage.

Alma's mind drifted back to that fight with the yellow dog. She had an axe then, but she hadn't known enough to get a good slice in. From there, it had all gone downhill. A deep frown passed over her snout, and her ears flicked back irritably. Since the attack on Inferni, that incident hadn't crossed her mind. Now it was bothering her once more.

Alma gave a slight huff, and pushed her anger down so she could focus on his directions. Her ears tilted forward while she listened to his voice, while her eyes followed his hands and the dagger in her own. When the instruction had finished, she gave an experimental slash, trying to mimic the maneuver he had shown her; upwards, and then down.

Ithiel de le Poer · 04-14-2012, 07:10 AM

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Ithiel is by me!

The dust-colored hybrid thought he had a good pupil here: she was eager to learn, it seemed, and her focus did not stray from his voice. Her grip on the knife did not need much correcting beyond his initial suggestion, either -- she did not seem to hold it with white-knuckled ferocity, nor so loosely that the knife would go flying at her first swipe. Her slash was appraised with bright red eyes, and a small smile even bloomed across his muzzle, unbidden. Little made the dark man smile, save the adrenaline rush of a true fight, or learning something new. Training was still another thing which gave him pleasure; such things improved not only the student, but the teacher, as well.

The knife is a close weapon, and that is how you must use it. A sword seems like a big knife, but it must be used very differently. A long sword, a spear, or any other ranged weapon is useless if you are this close with a knife, he said, stepping forward and close to her to illustrate his point. The dusky coyote stepped back and mimed a knife with the same grip she used. If you can strike them from low, he said, crouching and thrusting upward with his imaginary knife, the stomach, the ribs, the chest. If you stick a knife in someone and twist it, the damage is much worse.

Alma · 04-14-2012, 07:48 AM

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...

Alma was so focused on getting it right that she hadn't noticed his appraising gaze. He had to have been watching her, of course, because he was her teacher for the time being. It just didn't occur to her to pay attention to that - not until she'd finished. Then the coyote turned her eyes to him, face showing some apprehension. It disappeared almost as quickly as his came, and his smile was returned with one of her own.

The assertion that a sword was useless when a dagger was close would have made her eyebrows raise, if she were capable of it. As it was, all that showed of her disbelief was a slight widening of the eyes. Despite her doubts, she watched his demonstration and afterwards, she crouched down in the same position. In her head, she imagined that one of the wolves was there in front of her as she pushed the dagger outwards and up.

When she had finished, she paused to ponder his words. The idea of attacking the weak points made sense, and could account for why he had said a sword was useless. It wouldn't do any good, she supposed, if she quick enough and was able to stab them in the gut before they could retaliate. Still, what if she wasn't quick? "Couldn't a sword still be used against me, if I were close? Even if it can't be used like a dagger, isn't it heavy enough to knock me away if I am not quick?"

Ithiel de le Poer · 04-14-2012, 07:57 AM

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Ithiel is by me!

The dust-colored coyote nodded his head and looked at her with a wry glance, the smile on his face remaining. Ithiel's smiles were rare enough; a smile broadening into full grins and amusement was exceedingly so. The question was a smart one, and it was good to teach someone with at least a beginning understanding of combat, or some natural inclination for it. Myrika could boast no such instincts or comprehension -- she needed to be trained entirely from the ground up, and questions worth asking rarely occurred to her. Still, she was much smarter than he was in other areas, and he could not completely disregard her talents. She had educated him on horsemanship, after all.

Yes -- a sword could be used to knock you away, and a strong enough arm can do damage. But a lethal blow is much harder if you are closer -- they can't stab with the sword, just swing, he said. You must be quick -- quick enough to get away before they can do that. If you can't strike a killing blow, slash quickly and dart away. Like our ancestors fought -- dart into the fight, and jump back out before anyone can catch you, he said, rolling back and forth on his feet while he leapt to one side. Jump to the side, back, forward, in, out, he said. Never in a pattern -- keep them guessing.

Alma · 04-14-2012, 09:50 AM

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Posts are getting crappier. Must. Not. Fall Asleep.

A second after asking the question, it occurred to her that he might not be pleased that she disbelieved his logic. It wasn't like she could take it back now, though - and the question would have stayed in her mind for a few days if she hadn't asked. Eventually, curiosity would have led to her asking him or someone else anyway.

It turns out that she needn't have worried, for the smile remained on his face. Her tail slowly moved from side-to-side behind her. His words confirmed her guess that she would have to be quick; those wolves had to fall into the 'strong' category, although it was nice to know that they couldn't kill her outright when she was so close.

Alma was slightly dismayed, however, for she had never thought of herself as quick. She did everything at a slow pace, and took her time with things. Even her method of hunting relied more on her patience and skill with a bow, rather than her speed. She didn't take into account the battle in which she had spent most of her time running - she didn't really outrun the horse, she'd just been able to use its larger shape against it.

Hesitantly, the female followed his suggestions and practiced moving from side to side, back and forth and every which way she could think of. Her movements were too slow, and a little clumsy. This displeased her, and it showed on her face and in the manner in which her ears were folded. She repeated the maneuvers, again and again, until she was satisfied.

Ithiel de le Poer · 04-14-2012, 10:01 AM

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(--)

Ithiel is by me!

Each weapon required different skills. Ithiel's skillset made the bow and other ranged weapons ideal, though he supposed he might have managed with a light melee weapon or even a sword. His preference, however, played a large part -- he liked the distance, and it worked quite well for his scouting abilities, as well. He needn't slink close to an enemy to dispatch them -- simply getting them within range of his bow was enough.

The dark man watched her leap and jump and nodded his approval, his bright red eyes flicking to the knife in her hand. Do you think you can slice me? Try, he urged, stepping toward her. He would not strike her, but he would avoid her blows. If he could not dance away from the strikes of a novice knife wielder, he did not deserve to walk away unscathed. So long as she avoided stabbing him and jamming the knife into his chest, a little slice wouldn't hurt him terribly, either. He already bore the wounds of the previous attack, after all.

Alma · 04-15-2012, 06:37 AM

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Chat is suddenly not loading for me, btw. I didn't want you to think I got angry about the title and disappeared, so I hope you see this.

The coyote looked from the dusty male, to the dagger in her hands. She didn't actually want to hurt him - of course, the only way to increase her skill was to practice. Besides, he was an experienced fighter, and he'd surely be able to dodge her and chances were, she'd be lucky to get a hit in. Still, just in case, she would try not to attack his vital organs.

Alma looked down at her knife to make sure she was holding it correctly, then spread her feet apart for more balance and eyed the male. Where to attack, where to attack? Not the chest, not the stomach and not the throat or face. What did that leave her with, then? The arms, the shoulders, the legs - although the latter struck her as more difficult.

The coyote jumped forward, slashing with her dagger. She aimed for his arms with the upswing, and his legs with the downswing. Regardless of whether or not she hit, she moved to the side and to the back, then forward again to attack once more. If this were a real fight, she would have to keep moving and escaping in case her opponent tried to retaliate. Alma felt a rush of heat flow through her veins; something about this was quite enjoyable. Perhaps the lack of true danger, or the need to not protect anyone but herself made it enjoyable.

Ithiel de le Poer · 04-16-2012, 02:52 AM

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(--) I AM SO MAD AT YOU I WILL NEVER FORGIVE THIS INJUSTICE I AM CALLING THE POLICE RIGHT NOW hateu5eva

Ithiel is by me!

Training was something Ithiel enjoyed creatly -- the only thing more exhilarating than a mock fight was a real one. Ithiel had a strict definition of what constituted a real fight, and what did not: when one fought for one's life or to defend the life of another, it was a real fight. Anything else was fighting for pleasure, a mock fight. The gamble he'd made to win Lystra was not a real fight, though he supposed it could have turned into one, if the older coyote hadn't been honorable enough to uphold his end of the bargain.

His opponent was a novice and a woman, but even so, Ithiel did not wish to underestimate her and end up being sliced. He crouched just slightly with her movements, watching her plant her feet wide and look at him. Her attack was swift, but the dusky-furred coyote saw it coming, in the flexing of her muscles and the look of her eyes as she appraised him for the best spot to attack. The blade sailed harmlessly past him, and when she leapt again, he was swift to move out of her way. She was very quick, small and slim and made for these sorts of techniques.

Good, he breathed, his smile blossoming into more of a grin. Again, he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and back again, looking to move once more.

Alma · 04-16-2012, 07:30 AM

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Big Grin also, crap post.

She was expecting that he would be able to dodge her attacks, and yet she found herself frustrated when it actually happened. It reminded of the last two fights she'd been in, and how much of a failure she'd been. Alma let out a huff, and moved forward for each step he took back. When it seemed as if she was close enough, she lunged forward and swung with her dagger. She was not focusing on just his arms or legs now, she just wanted to get a shot in.

Adrenaline flooded her veins, spurring her forward when he dodged once more. The grin he gave she took as a challenge, and something in her made her respond with a playful smirk, as if to say 'I'll get you eventually, old man'. Something she might have said out-loud, had she not been focused on the fight.

Alma was unaware that Ithiel was younger than her - from his solemn attitude, she thought he was older than he looked. If she had to guess, she would say he was about her age or older. If the truth ever came out, she would be quite surprised; doubly so considering he knew so much about combat.

Ithiel de le Poer · 04-17-2012, 03:16 AM

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(302) Maaaaaybe misunderstood your post. :| Either way, this is a good way to end fighty part, yes? TEND TO HIS WOUNDS, HELPER-WOMAN.

Ithiel is by me!

The dusky-furred man perceived her frustration, but mistook it for exertion: had he realized how her will had risen to the point of such agitation, he might have chided her and asked her to try and keep a cooler head. As it was, though, the man took her huffing and intensified effort to mean she was simply trying harder. This was a good thing. The knife flashed again and he moved, but she continued forward, charging toward him with a boldness that he had not expected.

The knife sliced toward him again, and Ithiel jerked, the most ungainly of his movements thus far. The blade whizzed across his shoulder, close to his ear, and he expected to feel pain, but none came. He took a leap backward and held up both his hands to signal her to stop and twisted his head toward his shoulder, peering at the chunk of fur that was now missing. A thin line of red was also apparent, but it was little more than a scratch. The patch of missing pelt was more apparent than the blood in the relatively thick fur on his shoulders, and he grinned at her broadly, tipping his muzzle downward in an expression of praise.

A wetness on his other arm caught his attention, however, and he peered toward it to see blood seeping out from beneath the bandage. He made a face and was suddenly aware of his other aches, all of his adrenaline draining away to leave him hurting worse than before. He was a young man and capable of such feats, but for how long? There were few truly old soldiers within the ranks of Scintilla -- those who were old were in the upper ranks, the generals and commanders who could pick and choose when to enter battles.

Alma · 04-19-2012, 09:59 AM

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NO I REFUSE

A brief rush of satisfication came from within her, as the the dusty male jerked backwards; she'd hit him - or almost! Then he held up his hands for her to stop, and Alma's face became horror-striken with the realization that she'd let her anger get the better of her and had actually drawn blood. Immeditely, her movements came to a halt and she lowered her knife.

Alma stared at the wound - well, the small line of blood; it wasn't really big enough to be called a wound. Instead, it seemed that she had throughly attacked and sliced off a small patch of fur. The coyote relaxed, the horror on her face disappearing as quickly as it came. Her lips twitched into a smirk, the furless patch conjuring up a mental image of what he might look like if she had managed to slice all the fur off of him. As amusing as that was, she wasn't about to say it outloud - it could offend him.

It was then that she noticed he was looking at her as if he was proud. Alma's smirk turned into a smile. It did not last for long, however, as she followed his eyes and spotted blood seeping out of his bandage. "Sorry. I guess I got a little carried away." Guilty, she looked around for something she might use as a replacement bandage. All she could think of was foliage, or else some of the fur-and-skin scraps she stored in her den and used as bedding. The latter might work. "I have some rabbit pelts in my den, if you do not have anything to replace that with." She suggested, and glanced in that direction.

Ithiel de le Poer · 04-21-2012, 03:58 AM

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BONDING. BOOOONDDDDIIIIIINNNNNGGGG. -staggers toward, zombified- ♥♥♥♥ Also LOLOMG NAKED ITHIEL

Ithiel is by Raze!

The dusky-furred coyote slumped with tiredness, and he glanced at the wound quizzically a moment, rolling the shoulder opposite of the bandage. It's okay, he said, allowing his shoulder to drop as he moved toward her, wincing with the first step. I should have known my body needed more time to heal, he said, sourly. He was angry with himself for having failed to see this and probably prolonging the time it took to heal up now.

I am no medic and am running low on supplies of my own, he said, more kindly. I'd appreciate the help. He had nothing for pain, anymore -- only a tiny piece of the dried white sap still remained to him, and this he was saving for a more severe wounding, his own or someone else's. The dusky coyote was fine with that and wanted nothing that would dull his senses, but a new bandage was in order, and a queer eagerness to follow Alma drove him toward her, stopping a few feet away as he looked to her to lead him onward toward her dwelling. He did not know where most of the rest of the clan lived -- general ideas, yes, but the dusky coyote knew no specific caves and residences.

Alma · 04-27-2012, 04:03 AM

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YES, NAKED PRIESTLY BOY ;D -POINTS AND LAUGHS- also, he might want to bring that lamp thing to avoid stumbling over all of Alma's wood, I assume it's dark in the caves.

"I'm not a medic, either." Alma admitted, "But I was wounded before the attacks on Inferni, and Enkiel helped me then. I've picked a little up from him." She had watched the jackal tend to her wounds, but she wouldn't call herself experienced by any means. She might not be able to take care of a large wound, but something like this - that was probably easy; or at least she hoped. The mansion was farther, anyway, and she knew not whether the jackal would be awake at this time of night. With so many wounded clanmates, the man probably needed his sleep.

Once she had seen that the dusky male was following her, she turned and began to walk back to her den. Memory led her way; the caverns were dark and she was used to traveling without light. Even if light was provided, she would still rely on memory, as she'd rarely actually seen what the walls she passed looked like.

Her cave was small and dry, and held the lingering scent of wood, smoke and the hoof-based glue she used as a sealer. Stacks of it were piled up against the walls, in varying stages. Some of it still had yet to be dried, while others were just needed to be carved and shaped into bows. Beside the large pile was a chunk of smaller pieces; half-finished projects. Beads, arrows, and axe handles. Some looked as if they had no purpose at all, and had simply just been used to whittle. Not far from the wood was also some stones - chunks of rocks shaped into the head of an axe, knife or an arrowhead. Most of them, however, bore no resemblance to what they would eventually become. Bits of sinew and a jar of hoof-glue also littered the floor.

Alma drifted away from the wood and stone piles, to the back of her cave where her bed was. Fur and downy feathers lined the floor. Some of the fur was simply chunks she had torn off from her prey and had decided to keep, while others had some of the skin intact. Alma occasionally made an effort to skin her prey, but it never turned out perfectly. Her father had taught her to get the sinew from animals, not to skin them for their pelts. She had no teacher, and so it seemed whatever poor animal's hide she had gotten her hands on would always have a hole in it somewhere. Still, there were a few suitable, mostly intact - and fairly clean - pieces among the pile.

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