| Subject: BACK TO THE FUTURE! |
Author:
Timejumper
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Date Posted: 02/11/05 11:49:15am Fri
Eleven peaceful years passed for the forgotten, for some, it was the longest period of peace they could remember, for others, it was almost a return to a life once known, the difference being in the strict training regimen that was placed upon the knights by Johan, the weaponmaster of Hogoromo's armed forces... and the person who was one of the reasons Zenra remained queen.
Johan had stridently objected to any other ruler with Zenra awake and competent to rule, and with his loyalty, and refusal to accept any other ruler, came the loyalty of the armed forces of Hogoromo, for they showed, almost unanimously in this, that their loyalty lay with the man that had so well prepared them.
As time had gone on, children had grown older, some, as with Cyrus and Emillia, grew into youthful adolescence, while others, as with Talen and Misty, grew into young adulthood, though in truth, no one really knew where they were.
Cyrus was something indeed, raising eyebrows at the academy for young fighters, many years of competent, early tutelage and practical lessons from his father, and of course, a few practical lessons in the past from Tyrsis, well remembered and well used, had produced a youth that, though tending towards a build more slender than that of his father, was perhaps more capable than even Johan might have expected or hoped.
The morning light found him in the courtyard, wrapping a thick black cloth around his eyes; He recently been doing this for training purposes, squaring off against older classmates while blindfolded. Once his shirt was off, he was ready. Using a memorized mental image of the training ground, he walked over and climbed a set of stairs, and stepped out onto what could best describe as a field made of posts; a missed step would send you falling eight feet to the ground below.
When he reached the middle of the posts, the fun began. Three older boys stepped up as he drew his sword, the Fia'A'Vell'Turr, a strange, extra long katana with a shimmering blue blade, forged by his father's hand for him when he was very young, he had grown up weilding the weapon.
Cyrus moved his head just in time to avoid a blow coming in at the back of his head, while catching another on his sword, he suddenly went low, and, his blade disengaging gracefully from his opponent's blade, he brought it towards where he knew, judging by the angle and force of the blow, his attacker's knee must be.
It was fortunate for the older boy that Cyrus turned his weapon to catch the leg with the dull back of the blade, sending the unfortunate boy clear out of the fight as he knocked him off the pole. Cyrus's feet shifted poles as he came back up, all in one fluid motion, which seemed little more than a blur to his assailants, causing the third older boy, who had been waiting, to come in fast in an attempt to try and use Cyrus' opposite momentum against him.
An impressive tactic that might have worked against any other opponent, but Cyrus' feet practically danced on the poles as he ducked, and turned, his shoulder colliding with this assailant's hip, before Cyrus, using a hand that suddenly freed itself from his previously double handed grip on his weapon, now had a balance advantage as the back of his fist collided with a jaw, knocking yet another opponent off the pole.
The third, and last boy, didn't have time to figure out his next attack, he was caught in his moment of hesitation by a Cyrus, who attacked not the boy's flesh, but the weapon, letting his blade slide off immediately after the first blow, then coming back with a few more quick taps... and then a full force collision at the tip of the other boy's sword sent the weapon flying.
Cyrus panted for a moment.... and then ducked, just in time to feel a blade pass through air right about where his neck had once been, then his body came back up as he made an upward thrust at what, in his mind's eye, was the chest of this new, unexpected opponent.
Much to his amazement, he felt his weapon turned aside with the clang of metal on metal, and then found himself leaning back and shifting his grip on his sword, gripping the back edge of the blade itself to shorten his weapon and thus speed it up, to give his blade the opportunity to parry a blow aimed for his heart.
Whoever his opponet was, they were good. Blade danced off blade, and suddenly, as he felt his blade at his opponent's throat, and felt the tip of a sword at his own throat, he had a sinking suspicion of who it was... Pulling off his blindfold only confirmed that suspicion.
Emillia, slightly older than him, was a beauty. Graceful, athletic, and with a very pretty face, in particular, beautiful eyes that could make his heart skip a beat.
"E...E...Emillia!" he said, falling backwards, and subsequently, falling off the poles he was standing on to land on the ground with an audible thump.
Several years ago, Johan had taken Cyrus to a remote mountain overlooking a lake (though Cyrus could not remember the name of the place) to train him, free of distraction... for about five years. He had returned around this time last year, and, unused to attention from so many years away from people, practically went into shock when he started to become the object of attention from more than a few people, in particular, girls.
Emillia on the otherhand, was another game... of all the girls in hogoromo, she was the only girl that could make him swallow his own voice, and trip over his own feet.
Johan on the other hand, was busy drilling green recruits into the knights on the many methods of joining a mass battle, in particular, how to hold and turn a wedge (which, with outstretched wings on the edges, could devastate an opposing army.
He had been one of those to make sure that the Ith'Dakar continued to be hunted down, choosing to never forgive their heinous crimes.
Interestingly enough, there was new trade, a large statue of a dwarf, commissioned by the city, stood on the commons, crafted by dwarven hand. The statue served as a reminder of their friends, and as a diplomatic tool... the dwarves were far more predisposed to the renewal of old alliances with clear signs of apology and honest offers of friendship on the table.
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