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Battle Tendency
09-14-2020, 08:26 AM
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Maybe if he closed his eyes and listened hard enough he can hear their cries. Hear them beg and plead for mercy, pray for their gods to save them. The very idea of it sent a chill down his spine, made his fur puff up as though he were a porcupine trying to ward off such thoughts. Why was he thinking this now? Was this his conscious trying to make a weak attempt to have empathy for harbingers?

He blinked and shook his head once.

It wasn't going to work, it couldn't work. Every time his mind tried to conjure some excuse to make him try and change his path in life, he reminded himself of the cruelty he had faced in a past life. Reminded himself of the feeling of having a gun to the back of your head, knowing that the hammer was pulled back and that there was a finger on the trigger at all times. It was a stressful and terrifying feeling, especially for a child.

Maybe he was taking out his unresolved childhood trauma via witchhunt for wolves who claimed they spoke to Gods. Then again, when it was phrased like that then maybe they did deserve to be hunted down. Any creature who claimed to speak to Gods had to be either crazy or dangerous, in some concerning cases, both.

As for Gabriel, he didn't believe in any powers above or below. He lost any possible faith when he opened his ears and the first words to greet him into the world were, "How do we get rid of you?"

In any case, he was going to shove aside this introspection and get back to the reason he came out here, to practice his fighting technique. It was spacious, barren, and mostly flat, but the most important trait was that it wasn't populated. He could work on his form and dodging ability in peace without the distraction of noise. Dull, black claws scratched at the dirt before he forced air out through his nostrils, and narrowed his eyes towards his invisible opponent. Crouching low, as he went through templar training, as though it were a checklist, in his head. Slow training, but it wasn't as though he had made friends during training, his social distancing sought to that. The downside of not being a social butterfly, he had no one to spar with. Oh, well.

— coded by aureate —

09-29-2020, 03:25 PM
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These days, Asheden's presence rarely ever graced his office; with the surges of Harbingers predicted by the King coming to fruition along the borders of the Woods, Asheden resigned himself to his ever-growing list of duties that had compelled him from the many nights he'd spent pacing the hallowed stone halls of his station. But Asheden was never alone; faithfully did Tarasil amble behind him, elegant Yaurithian dressage decorated in Tempalr insignia. The gentle clink, clink of the Captain's sword cuffing against his hip with each large bound rather loudly announcing his presence everywhere he went; but he were not hunting Harbingers on this day, and thus attracting the attention of the people was the least of his worries. Rather, Asheden much preferred the way it made urchins scramble for their dank holes under the Marketplace, thieves scrambling for safety as he came to pass. As he left the cozy walls of Yaurith in favor of the Gallows, Asheden resigned his squared shoulders and held head in favor of a stance slightly more casual, if only just.

Training of the initiates usually occurred in the courtyard, with groups of young men and women lined in a circle as two unwitting, inexperienced volunteers battled sloppily until their fists were bruised and bloodied. Every so often, however, one would escape; fueled either by a need to prove themselves or far more content to study in quiet, finding the solitary initiate training on their own was a pleasant sight on the eyes, though far less useful than one would imagine. After all, training without guidance would reinforce bad behavior, and though Asheden's strengths lay not in his brute force alone, he had been tasked many times with overseeing the initiates. As he descended the crest of the barren hill to see Gabriel there, Asheden and Tarasil's approach was well-noted in the wind, and the sound of his familiar's hooves traipsing against the dusty earth. “Sparring partners may always be found in the Citadel,” he proclaimed upon his approach, a wolfish brow lifting as he neared the golden man, “though I suppose if you wanted a more quiet place to learn...” Asheden unsheathed his sword from its hilt, but instead of baring it, he allowed it to fall onto the ground. Even he knew better than to be armed against an unarmed initiate, should Gabriel choose to accept his invitation.

11-09-2020, 06:06 AM
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He forced his mind to focus on the task at hand. Pressing movement into the memory of muscle, attuning his body to getting used to shifts in stance, memorizing the feel of the ground beneath him—how stable was it? How sloped? What small obstacles were there on the ground that might trip him? Or use to his advantage in a fight. The initiate of golden hues was a creature who did not pause at the thought of fighting "dirty", he wouldn't even call it that. It was just a method of fighting. His mind worked for the end goal, not all paths were pristine and he wasn't afraid to get dirty if it meant finding the most efficient and quickest way to victory.

Maybe that's what the other initiates saw in him, what made them their distance as he did. They saw that he was willing to bite the bullet, take a hit if it meant he could throw one back twice as hard. You do what you have to do. Maybe it was something psychological, an upbringing that whispered doubt and casted unimportance on the value of his own life, that caused him to be so willing to dive into danger. Oh, but he wasn't reckless no, he was always a mind of logic. Already picked out exits and had multiple plans in place. He definitely wouldn't be alive now, if that weren't the case...

The rough steps of hooves, the convenient gust of wind that wafted the scent of familiarity to his pale nose. He stopped, both his thoughts and his aimless rehearsal of dance, gilded head-turning along with his body toward the scent that he honestly didn't expect here. "Ser," Gabriel greeted quick, his head and tail lowered out of respect of the other templar's rank. “Sparring partners may always be found in the Citadel,” It only took him a moment to comprehend the statement and he couldn't help the slightly sorry action that came in the form of his ears falling for a moment. He knew he could just wander about The Capital and ask for sparring partners, he knew better, but his own discomfort clouded his judgment and convinced him otherwise. “though I suppose if you wanted a more quiet place to learn...” Gabriel was torn from his own mental lecture to look towards the Captain, his sword dropping to the ground and the message was clear. He was more than happy to move past trying to give reason after reason as to why he was out here rather than with other initiates.

Declining a spar was far from his mind, learning from a Captain was an opportunity only a fool would pass up, and he wasn't too much of one to do so (he did have humility). Gabriel had visibly brightened but paused before getting ahead of himself. "I—wouldn't want to take up your time if you need it, Ser." It crossed his mind for just a second that the Captain had offered a spar out of pity, seeing Gabriel out by myself—the idea left a bad taste in his mouth and he quickly dispelled the idea before it could fester. After all, he did see Captain Kvare at practice a number of times.

"here comes the sun."
— coded by aureate —

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