Fight:Sylla Vs Kaval

Synopsis: At the Steel Collective Barracks Eirik witnesses the two Prospects, Sylla and Kaval take up their test to prove themselves. They must have a spar with a witness from the clan to fully become a shield sibling.

Fight

You are confronted here by large steel gates and high stone walls, upon which an array of armored stone sentinels greet the random passerby. Their gaze is affixed in some display of war, and in their grasp a variety of weapons are at the ready. From the walls themselves a patrol of scouts can be seen, looking out vigilantly across the distance. In that vantage point their job would seem obvious; approach with caution. After stepping through the guarded gate a long training yard sprawls out before you, its turf worn and faded in large swaths from the constant treading of warrior's feet. A series of lanes and hay bales that serve as an archery range occupied one side of the yard and practice dummies upon a line of posts occupied the other, where a few trainees are focused upon practicing single, devastating blows upon their inanimate targets. A few weapon filled racks of note litter the area all a-gleam for their precision craftsmanship, but blunted and scarred for their extensive use and abuse in training. Just beyond the training yard lies the larger compound, comprised mostly of the same quarried and cut stone as the fortified wall surrounding. Its grand entrance might seem more like a mead hall or a grand place of meeting. Ornately designed and colored rugs span over the center of the smooth stone floor, and several tapestries hang along the periphery of the room depicting scenes of feats and people of some importance to the organization herein. A long narrow table stands, its surface unadorned and its edges lined with empty dark wooden chairs, in the very center of the room below a candelabrum that hangs low from the ceiling and lends its light to that cast from the torches inset strategically along the large room's walls. To one side of the aforementioned table lies a doorless arched stone entryway into the dormitories meant to house the individual members. Filled with the basic necessities required of everyday life - beds, trunks, dressers, and racks- there are scant few articles sitting out of place in this common area, and the unoccupied beds lay neatly done up. On the other side of the hall sits the mess area, it's devoted staff moving about in a hurry to fulfill the needs of the Steel Collective, serving hot food at all hours of the day to hungry shiftchanges and guests. Finally, to the far end of the main hall, opposite the entrance, lies a hallway which contains three hard oak doors. The first door on the left is reserved for the second in command, a private room gifted in honor of their position. Straight ahead lies the door that leads to the large war room, filled with tables and chairs and maps of the realm, where the clan debriefs members on missions and assignments. Lastly, the clan leader's chambers can be found through the door on the right. All three of these aforementioned rooms carry stout locking mechanisms of steel meant to keep the would-be thieves at bay.

Eirik marches out into the training yard dressed for war. A black armored sleeve works its way up right arm and weaves into a fur covered, leather and steel plate pauldron. A sleeveless, silver stitched black leather jerkin adorns his torso while matching pants give way to scuffed steel greaves that protect shins and booted feet. Brann Forbruker, a rune inscribed longsword, dangles from his left hip - tied via the means of a leather baldric. Intense silver eyes gaze out from beneath the veil of a heavily scarred visage, gauging the two who are about to have their entrance spar. "Begin," voice bellows out! Eirik would state nothing further as he starts to examine the prospects before him.

Sylla had stripped down all of the extra furs on his massive frame for the would-be spar, leaving him wearing little more than the necessary straps and holsters for his weapons and decency. The huge bear of a man was more or less unarmored, his only protection being the bulk of his flesh. A shortbow, a few dark obsidian knives, and a simple steel hatchet were his visible armaments. The moment Eirik called for the fight he immediately drew the shortbow and arrow, nocking a shot and firing at Kaval as he began advancing. Center of mass was his aim, going right for the lungs just as he’d shoot game. After the first shot he’d pick up his pace, charging at the hunter as he drew and released another shot, albeit at much poorer aim before discarding the bow, aiming to close the rest of the distance and fight with knife and axe where he could leverage his bulk and strength.

Kaval regarded her opponent as if he was as a wisping ice wyvren within the whirlpool of a blistering mountainside storm. She squared her stance while holding out her short bow, arrow nocked loosely in anticipation for what the other human may strike her way. The sparring yard gave her an uneasy feeling with its openness, cursing in thought how she would love a thunderstorm to pass by right about not to hinder Sylla's sights. As Eirik called the fight she tumbled off to the side, the other human also barred a shot bow and that hunkering frame of him no doubt allowed for a quick powerful shot. As she though his arrow zipped by, giving an astonished look before regaining her stance and releasing her own. With any beast so massive she would attempt to down him from his limbs. However she didnt expect the man to nock another arrow so quickly as both their arrows flew passed one another. Its mark grazed along her hand and clicked off the metal plate sewed onto the wolf-fur sleeve. With the man charging her down waiting for him to near striking distance before slipping the string of the upper limp for it to snap forward. Possibly a dirty trick as the upper limb of the short bow had a sharpened metal bit for slicing meat in a pinch. She tried for embedding the limb just below his rib-cage.

Sylla was a pretty easy target to hit with arrows, but his advantage of first shot gave him enough time to twist and take Kaval’s arrow to the left arm with a squelch like a big pincushion and minimize its damage for now. Despite the solid hit, he gave little more than a small wince before the awkward second shot, speed and surprise making up for aim. He drew his hatchet in the right on the final approach, his other arm still intact enough to draw the knife in reverse grip. As they clashed he suddenly found the bow being used like a spear against him. He had too much momentum behind the charge to stop anything and was left to sacrifice the stuck arm again, putting it forward to catch the bow in his forearm before pulling it aside with a roar at the ripping and tearing of flesh as the knife fell from his hand. He’d thrust his other arm forward to try and slam the head of the hatchet right onto Kaval’s breastbone before following up with a swift chop to split her open where he could.

Kaval took a sharp breath as her bow-made-spear bit into Sylla's arm. She didnt have much of a choice but to release her grip on its lower limb as the man ripped it aside. His downward stroke and her proximity to him gave no time for a retreat, only thing to do was attempt to press up against him while raising a metal plated arm to take the force of the blow. The hatchet contacted the curved metal, forcing her arm down harshly and denting the metal inward crushing and breaking the skin beneath. Crying our in rage and pain he pulled fourth a forearm length curved blade from a leather sheath strapped to her quiver. The thing looked like a harshly smithed fillet blade, larger than needed to be. Her tightened grip on its handle caused burst of hot pain to flash down her hand, however that injury would have to be dealt with when there wasn't a bear of a man attempting to dismember her. Again she attempted to strike below his rib cage and drive the blade inward and up as her now useless arm hung to its side.

Sylla had made it into close combat, where many scars were made by tooth and claw… and in this case blade and... bladed bow. He followed her motion as much as he could, and as she drew the blade he’d rush forward again, electing to toss the hatchet at her blade-hand, just to give her enough pause as he bore down on her and put his injured arm under his stomach to dive onto her, putting his good arm out to try to grab and control her sword-arm and prevent things from getting –too- stabby. His hand would use the blade as a guide and try to deflect it, earning a slice on his palm for his work before pushing it aside enough to pierce his side, but away from more serious vitals. He’d simply lay on there, arm pressing down on her stomach as he tried to suffocate her with his mass. Whatever his recklessness had earned him in terms of wounds, he seemed accustomed to them, and keen observers might even see that the wound from the first arrow that entered his arm had stopped bleeding already.

Kaval's head began to spin as the pain of her injuries threatened to overwhelm her. She felt like a cornered games, bared her teeth as her eyes squinted with each new pulse of pain washing over her. This pain was a distraction and she held weak resistance to her blade being pushed aside and missing its mark. Though the damage it did inflict caused her to smirk, the man diving down on her wasn't something she thought he'd try. No time to think she could only jut her now free hand out as he crashed into her, knocking them to the ground with a harsh ragged gasp knocked out of her and no easy way to take in another breath.

Eirik would shift on foot stepping ever closer to the fray. "Stop!" Neck bellows, bulging; voice rough like rocks being crushed beneath a weighted boot. Both arms spread out as if pointing to the entire area which surrounds them. Silver eyes flick between the Prospects, no winner would be announced. That isn't what today is about. "This test has been passed," right hand shifts to point at himself. "Witnessed by Eirik." Both hands drop finally and clasp behind his back. "Blood has been shed and your life substance has been added to the worn ground beneath your feet." Silver eyes shift to the object in question. "It has joined our shield brothers and sisters. An oath of blood has been made to our Matron, Aarika and by your deeds I now proclaim you both shield siblings to the Steel Collective." The lycan, unlike many members, carries a far more serious tone when speaking. Its not one of authority, but a testament to his nature. "If you have need of healing, a few healers stand inside. Please enter, claim your quarters and make yourself at home. Welcome to the steel collective, Recruits." Recruit is the formal title given to those who have earned that golden earing.

Sylla coughed off to the side as the order of “Stop!” rung about the training yard. The big guy would roll off to give Kaval some breathing room before slowly rising to his feet a little shakily, cupping his side with his good arm to get an idea for the damage. He’d dwell on it maybe a bit longer than normal, and once he was done with it new blood came from it slowly, if at all. The big guy would pick at the mangled flesh of his arm to pull the arrow free, a grimace marking his fight with the pain before he treated them as he did his side. Despite being bloodied and pierced a number of times he’d reach down to Kaval and help her up once she caught her breath. “You alright there?” he’d rumble out with the offer for help. “Let’s get some good rest.” A smile marked his expression. He liked that trick with the bow, despite what it did to him. It could have done much worse.

Kaval almost regretted taking a large sharp inhale as the large man rolled off her, breathing in those next few breaths burning as she laid there staring skyward. The whole body felt as if it was pulsing with heat from the spare, but she gratefully took the offered hand to get up. She wasn't sure if her arm was fractured from the dented metal but she felt its touch stinging a torn wound beneath it, her hand wasn't nearly as bad as that. She looked away from her inured back up to Sylla and said in a mused tone, “Aye, for being mauled like that.” Perhaps it was the exhausted that caused her to almost laugh at that as she eyed the building in longing for rest and healers, “I think, aye yes, rest would be good.”

Eirik would nod to Kaval and her comment of rest. "There's plenty of drink and food to be had as well. You should be proud of yourselves." The berserker then shifts on foot heading into the clans mead hall, giving them the formal tour. Pointing out the mess hall, the living quarters, the war room and where the Matron herself is often found. "Feel free to call this home. We don't always have healers here, but on a day like today we try to ensure there is help." The Northman points to a plain looking woman in basic drab who carries a plethora of healers tools. "Brynna will see to your needs of healing."

Kaval nodded to Sylla as he went his separate way and flashed a coy grin to Bynna. She could imagine herself falling asleep while getting treated by the woman and thanked Eirik for showing her around, “I think I need some time with her, mm, then time in a bed.” she gave a quick glance around and murmured to herself, “and find where Zahkar wandered off too...”

Eirik's features twist into that of confusion. Zahker. Just who exactly was that? This being the first time the Lycan has met her, he had clear reason to be confused. Though by the smell of her perhaps she was referring to a pet of some kind. A wolf, to be exact. Of course Brynna stood at the ready to quickly examine Kaval and assess her needs. If Eirik was correct in his assumption, his own Dire wolves could help aid her if needed, but such an offer is not extended. "Where did you meet our Matron?" He assumed that she was the individual that had recruited them. If Kaval was not up for conversation Eirik could take the hint.

Kaval moved towards Brynna, raised her injured arm that she'd let to try and pry off the dented metal plate, knowing it could tear the wound if any parts of it coagulated. She looked back to Eirik, giving a slight shrug of her shoulder, “Outside. I herd here was where one could gain coin so I came for that reason.” Rage flashed in her eyes. “I lost what was to be sold.” though the moment passed and she looked exhausted again.

Eirik nods to her comment about joining for gold. That was a small part of why he himself joined, but his own reasoning a little more barbaric. He enjoyed the fight, the adrenaline, the rush, pain and pleasure of the whole experience. Sooner or later he would find another with the same interest. Brynna eyed the two in conversations for only a moment and set to working on Kavals arm. The plate is removed, and magic exits from her finger tips, inspecting the wound there. A full grin is shot to Kaval, "This will only take a moment." That's the only warning she gives the Recruit before she sets herself to the task. In a matter of moments the arm would be healed. Meanwhile Eirik responds, "There's plenty of gold to be had here. A few contracts have just passed into the Matrons hands and I believe a few of us are being assigned shortly." This is how he would hint at the opportunity to make some coin. "Make sure you check in with Aarika and let her know you're eager for work." As Brynna took care of Kaval, the northman exits the main room and heads to the mead hall. "It was good to witness your fight. But if you don't mind, this dog grows hungry." He also had other things to attend too. Eirik, the ever restless.