Hunter's Training

There're still monsters out there, I should know.

Sorin and Hunter had traveled outside of the forest and through the cold terrain of Ravaryn. Despite it still being Greenwilt, the cold winds raged over the kingdom and cut in their faces as they made way for Ishgard. Sorin had hoped to avoid Greenwilt in the kingdom of Ravaryn, but his clandestine meeting with Hunter had changed his plans. He had pitied the young man, probably because he seemed so similar to him, and promised to aid him in hunting his monster. However, it seemed Hunter still needed some training and the two of them could use some help in taking down the beast. Sorin wasn’t sure what and how, but he was sure that they could find whatever would give them the edge in Ishgard.
Leaving the rugged terrain behind him, Ishgard felt like an oasis of warmth and comfort in this barren land. The tall city walls loomed before them and the different farmer’s fields sprawled around them. Sorin felt more at ease here in the countryside than in a busy city, but the new full moon was far away and he could afford a short stay in the city. However, before that…
“How do you feel about a little training before we head into the city?” He asked Hunter whilst pointing to a muddy clearing between some farmer’s fields. He felt stiff with cold and could use a warm up. Plus, he wondered what the young hunter had learned so far about close-quarter fighting.

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[First post for Hunter Clavon, open afterwards]

Although Hunter had felt mostly excited to finally leave his Tribe and the memories of Avalon behind, he surely couldn’t have guessed that the area around Ravaryn would be this cold. If Sorin hadn’t warned him and basically forced him to buy something warm, he would’ve frozen his butt of as soon as they entered the colder environment. As Hunter was used to a more jungle-like environment where it was warm most of the time, he surely hadn’t expected Ravaryn to be this cold. His usual lighter clothes were replaced with pants that reached his ankles, a shirt, a warm vest and he had even bought a scarf that was wrapped tightly around his neck, the front covering his mouth and his nose. With his piercing grey blue eyes he looked like he could do you some serious harm, which he would gladly believe to be the case if someone would actually try to hurt them.

All the way to Ravaryn Hunter hadn’t complained once about the tough journey. This was what he had wanted, after all. He had thought occasionally about Aelisia and the argument they have had, as well as the intimate kiss they had shared, but he had forced her from his mind. Women were nothing but a distraction he couldn’t afford himself to have and Hunter wasn’t going to think about that woman ever again. Their kiss was meaningless and the only reason he had been so wrapped up in the feelings he had that day, was because he had never encountered them his entire life. It was just a fling, something that should be forgotten over time. It was meaningless, and so was her presence.

Hunter averted his eyes towards Sorin when he spoke about training. He nodded. ”It would certainly drive out the cold,” he muttered, heading to the muddy field Sorin mentioned. A little smirk appeared around his lips. As he was capable of practicing magic because he was a druid, he could use this field to his advantage if he wanted to. But Sorin didn’t need to know that. Hunter wasn’t sure if the man even knew that Hunter had magical abilities. He stood a little away from Sorin, turning around and nodding at the man to show that he was ready.

There're still monsters out there, I should know.

Sorin stood to face his opponent and produced two blunt training daggers from his bag before dropping it with a thud onto the half-frozen mud. He threw one of the daggers before Hunter’s feet. “We better use these, get you more acquainted with a weapon you know.” Sorin added.
Perhaps he should warn the young man about life in the cities. He wondered if they even had cities like this in the kingdom of Avalon. Sorin did not enjoy the city, but he also felt like Hunter flying of the handle could land them in the dungeons right quick.
“I still need to mention-” Sorin said calmly before lunging at Hunter. Monsters show no mercy and give no respite, Hunter would need to learn that. As a monster hunter, you had to be vigilant and fight dirty to come out on top.

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Hunter cocked an eyebrow when Sorin threw a dagger towards him. It landed in the half frozen mud and Hunter looked slowly from the weapon up to Sorin. ”You could’ve just given that to me before you offered to train together. Now I have to stretch my weary bones even more before the fight,” he complained, purposefully changing the tone of his voice so that he sounded like an old men. He even made a scene of walking slowly towards the weapon with his hand pressed against his back, not making a lot of effort to hurriedly pick it up. A huge mistake, apparently. He looked back up when Sorin spoke his words, only to immediately lift the weapon to block the man as he quickly approached him.

”What the…” His curse was cut off as the loud clanging of metal filled the air. The only reason he was able to block the attack was because he was quick enough to draw his weapon upwards. ”That was dirty,” he snapped as he sprang back, creating some distance between to two of them. He wouldn’t call himself an expert when it came to fighting, but he knew some dirty tricks off his own. He had caught Aelisia in his traps a few times, so that meant that he surely knew how to defend himself. But fighting against someone who was around his age or fighting someone who was older and had more experience were to entirely different things.

Instead of lunging at Sorin with his weapon, he opted to dive down to the ground. With some effort – and with carefully holding the dagger in the other direction so he wouldn’t accidentally make a fool out himself by grazing his own skin – he lifted himself up on his hands, swinging his legs towards Sorin’s. If he succeeded, the man would fall on the ground and Hunter would be able to crawl on top of him so he could stay on the ground. Heh heh. A smirk appeared around the corners of Hunter’s mouth.

This would be too easy.

There're still monsters out there, I should know.

“Monsters fight dirty, kid. They want to survive and you have to kill them, there is no fair fight.” Sorin snidely commented. It was true though. One moment of hesitation could mean the difference in a fight for survival. Heck, the only reason they were here in the first place was to find an unfair advantage against the monster.
Sorin looked on as Hunter created some distance. This was good. He would have had to hurt the young man otherwise. Pain was the best teacher after all. He would await Hunter’s attack.
As unorthodox as it was, the sudden dive and raised leg assault did nearly catch Sorin off guard. The heels of the young man came down and would have forced him to the ground on a solid hit. Instead of blocking or evading, Sorin dropped his dagger and grappled the legs as they came down. It would hurt, but Sorin had become a tough bastard through years of training. He felt the pain course through him as the kick landed, but he had caught the legs. A predatory glint burned in Sorin’s eyes as he used his strength to lean into the force of the kick and throw Hunter towards the fence of the farmer’s field. “Never fully expose yourself in a single attack!” He shouted as he hurled the young man.
The young man’s plan was a good one though, especially against someone used to more traditional forms of fighting. However, against a dirty fighter like Sorin… He wondered what the young man’s next attack would have in store for him. He had disarmed him and landed a kick, but would he be able to capitalize on that.

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”Yeah, yeah, I get the message,” Hunter spoke almost nonchalantly as Sorin snapped his words at him. He knew monsters wouldn’t fight fair and that it would be a good thing if Sorin prepared him for that, but it was still a dirty trick. So he tried a dirty trick of his own by diving to the ground and supporting his body with his hands while he kicked his legs towards Sorin. The only downside was that it completely backfired on him and that Sorin was mad enough to make the kick land, using Hunter’s own force against him by grabbing his legs and throwing the young boy away with enough force to swing him against the fence. A loud metallic clanging noise resonated through the area they were fighting in as Hunter collided with the fence. He was lucky enough to be thrown into the middle of the fence; had he been thrown to the pole standing not so far away from him, then the fight would have been over before it had even begun.

With an almost predatory look in his eyes Hunter stood up. He had toughened up over the years, so this wasn’t enough to keep him down on the ground, although he admitted that it hurt. For a moment nothing seemed to happen as Hunter just stared at Sorin, concentrating on the area around him. And on the clouds above them. Dark clouds gathered over them and soon enough it started to pour down fast. Hunter knew he had to be careful now. The more rain he would let pour down, the more energy it would drain from him. But this was more than enough. He ran forwards onto the now muddy, soggy field and kicked upwards with his legs, kicking mud, dirt and water towards Sorin’s face. Immediately he swung with his fist towards Sorin’s face, giving the man barely enough time to process what was happening.

Sorin would learn soon enough that Hunter was a dirty fighter of his own, willing to use his druid magic if it would mean that he could win a fight. And with a field like this, he could surely use his magic to his advantage.

There're still monsters out there, I should know.

The kick had hurt him more than he cared to admit. The young man could really put his weight in if he wanted to. Good.
He had sent Hunter flying into the fence. He would stand his ground and wait for the young man to make his move. He could have pressed the attack, but this was Hunter’s training not his punishment.
Hunter’s predatory glare almost matched his own. The boy was fierce. He would make it. But could the archer win from the swordsman?
Suddenly, Sorin felt a drizzle that quickly turned into a localized downpour. Sorin looked up to the dark clouds above him and muttered: “That’s not supposed to happen…” When he looked down, Hunter had already taken the offensive. The frozen mud around them quickly turned into a sludge and Hunter used that to his advantage, kicking the dirt towards Sorin’s face. Had he caused the downpour?
Sorin grabbed his cloak and pulled it in front of him, blocking the mud. It would not save him however, as Hunter’s fist made contact with his face. Sorin was punched into the mud, caking his face with the grime. Sorin growled instinctively and fumbled in the mud as blood poured from his nose, grasping for the dagger he had dropped previously. He found it, steadied his form as he kneeled down in the mud and swung the blunt dagger upwards towards Hunter’s chest. Now it was his turn to be offensive.
The kid was more of a fight than he had thought. He had gotten the drop on him in the woods, but it seemed like he was scrappy in a straight up fight.

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Hunter smirked a moment before he reached Sorin when he noticed how the man was looking up at the sky, probably muttering to himself about the weather. Well, it didn’t matter what he was muttering on about. Hunter could take the advantage right now and that was exactly what he was going to do. The boy closed the distance between them within a few strikes, kicking up mud and striking with his fist at the same time. He was fairly impressed by how Sorin was able to block the mud aimed for his eyes by pulling up his cape in front of him, but his fist still connected with the man’s face. Hunter didn’t try to feel bad as the man fell to the ground, blood starting to pour from his nose. But he had thrown Hunter against the fence, so in Hunter’s book they were even now.

That still was no reason to let his guard down, which Hunter didn’t, thank the Odirian deities for that. Hunter stepped back to avoid being fully stabbed, but he couldn’t avoid the whole force and the blow and he heard how his clothes ripped where Sorin had struck him, feeling the tip of the knife graze his chest. He punched with his fist down, not aiming for Sorin’s face, but for the wrist that he was holding the dagger with. That dagger was a threat and he wanted it to be gone, hence why he was going for the dagger in the first place. ”Damn it, those were new clothes as well,” he couldn’t refrain himself from speaking annoyedly, turning around and aiming a kick in the direction of Sorin’s chest.

If he would be able to hit the man, the man would be splayed on his back in the mud and Hunter could take the advantage by jumping him. That would be perfect. If it would work, that is.

There're still monsters out there, I should know.

Sorin’s strike hit its target. If the dagger had been a real and sharpened dagger, the young man would have started bleeding profusely. However, in the moment, Hunter was quick to react. The downward strike to his wrist immediately made him drop the dagger back into the muck.
With a snarl, Sorin looked up to see a foot accelerating towards his chest. Sorin quickly ducked, fully downing himself into the mud, allowing the foot to barely miss his head. He then grabbed the one leg Hunter was standing on and pulled it as hard as he could. He was confident that he could get the upper hand if he could Hunter down on the floor. He was stronger and could bear more of a beating, but the young man was more evasive. If it became a struggle in the mud, Hunter couldn’t use his evasiveness and Sorin would win.
The kid was stronger, stronger than he was at that age. Perhaps he was wasting his raw potential as an archer.

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He missed. Of course he fucking missed. This was Sorin he was dealing with, not some scumbag who didn’t have any experience when it came to combat. But still.. Hunter thought that he stood quite the good chance for being an archer and being stuck in a Tribe who didn’t allow him to fight. He was pretty sure that they both had hit each other an equal amount of times. Hunter lost his footing after Sorin grabbed his foot; he let out a groan as his back hit the mud, splaying mud all over himself. But he wasn’t going to let himself get down that easily. Hunter scowled as he thought real quick of a way out of this predicament. His eyes searched his surroundings and eventually he decided that he would have to play it dirty if he didn’t want to get under Sorin’s body weight.

Hunter was pretty sure that Sorin couldn’t do the same trick with his coat again now that they were both splayed on the ground, so his hand reached for the mud next to him. He grabbed a good amount of mud firmly in his hand and threw it with all the strength he had at Sorin, followed by a quick kick aimed at his chin. He was pretty sure that Sorin could handle a fair amount of kicks and hits, just as Hunter could. The hit on his back hadn’t been nice either; Hunter actually had to gasp for breath when his back collided with the hard ground, even though it was softened a bit by the mud. Sorin was a strong combat fighter, that was one thing that was for sure at least.

Sirach had thought he’d have a quiet, boring evening: return from his hunt, go to the inn and go to sleep after conversations that the people he spoke to wouldn’t remember the next day anyway since they’d be too drunk for that. But when he walked back from the forest to Ishgard, a freshly caught rabbit hanging on his back next to his axe, something caught his attention: two men fighting on a patch of land in between two fields. The younger one held a dagger in his hand—a training one, Sirach noticed; so this wasn’t a real fight—while the older man had already lost his. Clouds formed out of nowhere, making the ground into a half defrosted mud. Sirach decided to make himself comfortable and watch the show, sitting himself on top of a nearby fence while the boy splashed mud towards the other who blocked the attack with his coat, but who was quickly thereafter knocked onto the ground and covered with mud anyway.

Not much later, they were both on the ground. Sirach couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. It was like seeing two children fight, both of the men squirming through the mud, trying to get the upper hand, weapons forgotten about.

Thiefs and Beggars, never shall we die

Where we will, we'll roam

There're still monsters out there, I should know.

Sorin wanted to say that it was a draw when he looked up. What he got, however, was a face full of mud. Blinded and already bruised, he fumbled in the mud for his dagger. A swift kick from Hunter connected to his chin. A jolt of pain and anguish flooded Sorin’s heightened lycanthrope senses as he started seeing stars. If he wasn’t a monster hunter or soldier, someone accustomed to fighting hardy foes, he would have fainted after that hit. Even now, Sorin could feel his legs turning to jelly. The kid could kick like a damned mule…
“I win…” Sorin muttered through his mud caked face as he glanced down to Hunter’s leg. Sorin had managed to clutch his dagger in the mud and pressed it against the inner thigh of Hunter’s leg. If the dagger had been real, Sorin could have severed Hunter’s femoral artery. Sorin got up with a pained ‘old man’ groan, signifying that the fight was over, and added: “I would have cut your femoral artery. Always protect your vitals, including the vitals that are in the extremities.”
He had won, but at what cost. He was caked in mud and sore all over. The kid was a tough bastard… Sorin cleaned his face and looked around to see their audience. Sorin waved at the stranger and yelled: “Do you perhaps know where we might find an inn to stay the night and freshen up?”

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