A dangerous kind of dancing

Ezequiel Isoko · 03-01-2012, 05:58 PM

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Dated some time around the mid 20's of February. Arachnea's Revenge /+542

The sun was just setting, sending a wash of vivid red and orange streaking across the sky. From the little clearing in which he was situated Ezequiel could just see a faint orange glow, little of the brilliant view above penetrating the thick trees surrounding him.

Ezequiel was alone in the clearing, his sister being in the main camp some distance away, likely asleep judging by the fact that the orange glow of the fire had been snuffed out several minutes ago. Ezequiel had moved away from Anita tonight to do some training. Despite the fact that they hadn't encountered any of the tribes jackals for a long time now the collie cross was still on edge being out in the wilderness with no allies.

There was little he could do to remedy that last point at the moment so for now he simply kept himself and his fighting skills honed, forsaking time for more leisurely activities such as drawing or carving. He had been using this clearing for some time now and it showed. Small circles with surrounding rings had been cut into several trees and filled with throwing knives and on the floor nearby lay several heavy chunks of metal which Ezequiel used as weights. If one looked closely they would even be able to see tiny claw marks in the trees where Ezequiel had been climbing, a specific set of exercises unlike his normal leisurely climbing.

Ezequiel had moved onto staff work now and was just preparing his weapon, sharpening the blade with the whetstone he had acquired from that merchant at the festival. Finishing his work Ezequiel took a moment to examine his staff, it was a fine piece of work, matte black wood adorned with intricate carvings and metal blade polished to a keen shine and edge from its recent maintenance. Despite its practical and aesthetic value the thing that held Ezequiel to the blade the most was its sentimental value; the weapon had been crafted and presented to him by his mother shortly before her death, and was one of his most treasured tools.

Still a tool it was, not some pretty thing to be kept safe and look at but an instrument of death. As much as Ezequiel wished he could ensure that it was never damaged he felt that to mother the object would be disrespectful, so instead he put it to its intended use and made sure that he used it well.

Ezequiel was going through the motions with his staff now, fighting against an imaginary enemy as he practised the blocks and strikes needed for his weapon of choice. Ezequiel was small and relatively weak, but fast and swift-footed. He acknowledged his weaknesses and made use of his strengths in his fighting style, constantly moving and using parries with minimal contact, never standing still or trying to take a blow head on, even if the blows were imaginary in this case. It was a rather unique style, just as suited for fighting multiple unskilled opponents as it was a single skilled one and it was quite a sight to see, the small lithe jackal hybrid twirling across the clearing, the bladed end of his staff a silver blur in the fading light.

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