|
|
Post by Hunter on May 16, 2013 19:28:56 GMT
”Speech.”
Retiring from the Bloody Paw had been a hard decision, but also a necessary one. Four years in service showed on the big dog however little he wanted to admit it. And it wasn’t just the scars on his body that marked him. He was getting old. His teeth had started to blunt, making it harder for him to chew his food and tear through the skin of enemies. That didn’t mean his jaws weren’t bonecrushing strong though – The Hound, big and massive beast as he was, could still send chills down a feline’s spine by mere presence. Getting old, yes he was, but he was still dangerous. His limps would be stiff after rest, but he was nonetheless a vile creature bred by man – and untamed as he was, the wild animal’s fierce spirit still burned in his eyes despite the many years left behind him. After eight years of living, it was no longer his main job to fight though he still wouldn’t turn down a fight. By stepping down from a rank amongst the soldiers, Clegane had received another way to serve the pack he’d stepped into four years ago.
It was his job to teach. To guide the young soldier Juveniles into becoming real members of the Bloody Paw which he’d been part of himself.
”Too slow!” he barked at the Foxhound youngster who in vain tried to attack his opponent’s flank. The Doberman opponent easily dodged the attack and sent the Foxhound whirling as she kicked him hard in the chest with her hind paws. Clegane huffed, but it ended in a laugh. The Doberman female was showing much potential while he doubted a little more in the Foxhound. Had the male been an adult soldier already, he would worry for his first battle against a true enemy… luckily there was much time to work with his flaws. ”You need to rely more on your speed if you want to crush your foes,” he taught while a group of other Juveniles listened. A few puppies were play-fighting nearby, partly following what happened. As long as they weren’t too noisy, or interfered in the lesson, Clegane didn’t mind their presence. ”Try again,” he encouraged the two juveniles. As their fight continued he would occasionally comment on their moves, or even stop their fight to explain a point.
”I think we’re done for today. But don’t forget to train what you’ve learned! Be it a friend, parent or sibling – practice, practice, practice! The more you practice, and take in advice, the more likely are you to survive against the Iris Pride,” he said as the juveniles around him either gathered, in groups or pairs, to practice or left the place to other whereabouts. The Hound himself went from his sitting position to lie down, enjoying a bit of rest after hours of lecturing. He liked teaching though it felt strange not to be patrolling somewhere at the pack’s boarders. He’d been there in the battle against Lexis, and he if a battle should come up again soon, he’d be there. Retired he was, but no one would keep him away from a fight.
|
|
|
|
Post by Picasso on May 16, 2013 21:26:27 GMT
A young juvenile carefully watched from the sidelines as two canines tackled each other. He kept his amber eyes focused, trying to grasp their technique. London was far from old enough to fight in a proper battle yet, but he and his siblings would need sufficient training from a young age. His paws itched to get involved, however he was also wary. He didn't like the thought of fighting. Isobel's face flashed before his mind, and London looked away, pained. London knows he had been too young and weak to do anything, but it didn't stop the guilt. She had pushed him out of the way, and London had run away without a second thought. That was not what a Soldier of the Bloody Paw would do. Only a coward would run from such danger, and it made London hate himself. He had failed his pack, his family and Isobel's family. If London couldn't fight, there was no use for him in this pack.
The fight ended, and London studied The Hound. He was a well respected figure in the Pack, and many looked up to him. London had never witnessed Clegane fight, but he admired the large canine's rippling muscles. Eyes wide with awe, London stepped forward and Clegane lay down to rest. He was nervous. He had never even spoken to The Hound before. Everyone knew about Clegane, and everyone knew about London and his siblings: the second litter for Brooke and Bane. He slowly, carefully made his way to where Clegane was resting, and cleared his voice nervously. He didn't want to bother him, but this was perfect timing. The sun was low in the sky, but they'd still have another hour of light before the winter evening would shroud the city. He probably should've brought someone with him, one of his siblings, or perhaps Ismere. Then he would have someone to train with. He couldn't exactly fight Clegane, could he?
"Afternoon," London uttered politely, nerves getting the better of him, "I want to learn how to fight." He steadily met Clegane's gaze, hoping The Hound would say yes. However, London had to understand he had been lecturing for hours and was probably tired. London briefly glanced over at the puppies who were playing in a group. Perhaps Clegane would bring one of them to train with him? They were around the same age as London, so their body strength would match. Turning his head back to The Hound, London decided to offer an explanation, "I've heard amazing stories about you. You're The Hound. You can crush a cat's skull in one blow. Cats tell horror stories of you to their kittens. The whole feline population are afraid of you," London trailed off, "I want to know how you do it. How you are so confident. I don't want to be a coward, please."
London stared up at Clegane with wide, begging eyes.
|
|
|
|
Post by Hunter on May 17, 2013 15:58:03 GMT
”Speech.”
Eyes calmly closed, it was his sense of smell and that first told him of the approaching puppy. But he didn’t move. If the puppy wanted to tease him for some childish reason, he wouldn’t think twice before chasing it off. He wasn’t really up for pranks or silly jokes for the time being. But the puppy wasn’t trying to sneak up on him, only suddenly came to a halt. He gave a brusque snort as if to tell the young canine not to dare do anything stupid. He could just see in his mind’s eye that the dog would tense up, ready himself for leaping directly at-
The Hound opened a predatory eye, glaring at the smaller body in front of him as its tiny mouth opened and spoke. But what he found there wasn’t a silly prankster. It was Brooke’s pup, the brown one of them. Oh what was it now, the chocolate one, he knew his name, what was it now. Was he also starting to forget things? Or was it just because he didn’t care that much about it? Perhaps he was just being paranoid. Of course it was important to know who Brooke’s pups were, even though the lab mix wasn’t their Mistress anymore, but Clegane wouldn’t treat them any differently from the other puppies just because of their parents’ deeds. Perhaps that was why he had a hard time remembering his name. ”Ah, London,” he mumbled with his deep bass, now remembering the name, and at the same time wondering what he was doing here. But he found out just as he speculated, because the words suddenly blurted out of the younger dog.
For a second he just stared at the youngster, not even caring to lift his head. He wanted… to fight? At his age? And in his state? He didn’t know much about London, but what he’d heard made him doubt London would excel in fighting. London tried to explain, then looking at him with pleading eyes. Clegane grimaced, trying to keep his emotions at bay, but it was in vain – he couldn’t keep his roaring laugh away. This was just too humorous. The puppies playing nearby shortly stopped playing to gaze upon what was happening, but they soon lost interest and continued their game. Clegane now raised his big head to get a better look at the young dog in front of him, the source of all the fun. Who’d have thought that - perhaps he was looking at a prankster after all. Surely London couldn’t be anything but joking right? But as he realized the young one wasn’t joking he stopped laughing and cleared his throat. ”You really want some fighting practice, eh?” he asked, voice deep and only loud enough or them to hear. A brow was lifted as he asked, still slightly doubting London’s intentions. A thoughtful sound rumbled in his throat as he looked around them, thinking of what to do before gazing upon the pretty youngster in front of him with his ugly face. ”Look at my face boy,” he started suddenly, turning the burned side of his face slightly toward London, the bare muscles twisting in a grotesque manner as moving worms while he spoke. ”There you got one explanation – one important lesson – to my so-called confidence. Fire burns, but it doesn’t live the same way as we do. A feline can be torn away, crushed with your jaws in a way fire can’t. Felines are just meat, all ready and set to be butchered,” he said with his deep, rasping voice. He looked upon London for a moment before continuing. ”Second explanation… well, I’m afraid you already have learned that one. Now you just need to face it. The second explanation to what you call my confidence is coming from seeing what they do. Seeing it, feeling it in your body – and then your want to prevent those nasty things. It’s either them or us,” he said as he rose to stand on his four. ”Whose skull would you want to end up crushed? Yours or your foe’s?” he asked, eyes hard as his shadow slightly loomed over the smaller dog in front of him. "Finding what others call bravery is as easy as that. Stand down, and you end up dead along with those you want to protect."
|
|
|
|
Post by Picasso on May 22, 2013 8:49:48 GMT
London pinned his ears to the back of his head in anger. The deep, bass laughter made his hackles rise and his tail dip between his legs. He didn't know whether to be embarrassed or furious. How dare he? The Hound knew nothing of London, and yet here he was, laughing at him. Baring his teeth, London's eyes flashed. He didn't look very threatening as a juvenile, with a huge canine towering over him, but he did his best. He desperately wanted to prove himself to his family, and to the pack. If Clegane wasn't going to treat him seriously, then who the hell would? His gaze drifted to the puppies playing, and his scowled at their curious glances. London didn't know them personally, but from the glare he sent them, they continued their game without so much as a look back. He swivelled his head towards Clegane, who had stopped laughing. The question seemed obvious, seeing as London had requested for fight training not one minute ago. Frowning in confusion, he nodded, before belatedly wondering whether this was the best way to go about it. He was scheduled for training in a couple of months, once he was old enough, but he wanted to get ahead of the game.
Meeting Clegane's steady gaze, he listened carefully to his words of wisdom. His mind trailed to the image long since burned in his memory, of the lioness he'd met a month back, tearing Isobel's head from her shoulders. He shuddered. The memory would never leave him now, but he wanted to get his revenge. They had been defenceless. Taking a deep breath, London spoke, "Would you kill all felines? A family of cats, living as loners. Four kittens and their mother. They are doing no harm to anyone... would you butcher them?" He and Isobel had been doing no harm, but the lioness had wanted their blood. London reckoned he already knew the answer to his hypothetical situation, but he wanted to be sure. Whilst they were a loner family, they had the potential to join the Iris Pride and kill their own kin. Clegane could not take the chance in letting them live when they could grow up into murderers. It dawned on London that the lioness's actions were not dissimilar from the Tempest's. She had seen London and Issy as a threat, and took it upon herself to murder them. She had succeeded with Isobel, but not London.
Nodding to Clegane's words, he said, "So you say it is a fight for survival. If I do not fight, I will end up dead. My instincts will keep me going?" London swallowed thickly. He was never going to grow to be as large and as muscular as The Hound, however London hoped Clegane could help him become even a fraction of what The Hound was worth. Sighing, London found another question eating away at his mind, "You say this as though it is easy. But what if I was fighting a lion? Even when I'm a fully trained soldier, I am no match against a lion. Would you still tell me to fight when my instincts tell me to run? Would I be a coward for running?" London had been told over and over again that he could not have prevented Isobel's death, but he couldn't help but feel he could've done something. Issy had been the one to take her life for London. She had been the one to push London out of the way of the lioness's gaping jaws. She had been the one to stare face-first into the eyes of death. But she ended up dead and London was alive. Surely bravery was also a sin? Had Isobel taken the instinct to run, then maybe they would both still be alive.
|
|
|
|
Post by Hunter on May 22, 2013 15:43:23 GMT
”Speech.”
”’Course I would!” he answered to London’s question with a grunt, no hesitation found in his voice. ”Who knows if they someday will be enlisted to Iris and start killing our kind? Too much is going on in this city to just let someone be – even loners. What you call a peaceful mother can turn out to be dangerous, especially if her cubs’ lives are at stake. Nah kiddo, better them than us,” he said. He felt nothing for felines of any kind, he’d kill them all on sight without feeling the slightest regret. To tell the truth, the big dog couldn’t understand if others did any different. Felines were nothing but filthy bastards, they didn’t even deserve to breathe. Perhaps it could be permitted if they served canines, then at least they could be of little use. But for now, with the war raging so direly in the city as it did, there was no mercy in offering slavery for a better course. For now it was all about killing, wiping them out – or at least ending lives of enough felines to break down the Iris Pride.
He gazed sternly upon London as he asked a second question, listening to what the youngster said. Thinking a little, the big dog shook his head a few times. ”Both yes and no, boy. Your instincts might not make you stay alive in a fight, but they can be damn useful - with the right training set in your mind, it might be enough to turn the tide in a battle. Everyone can fight, instincts give you that much. But the real question is, who fights the best?” He gave a deep chuckle, hoping London understood him so far. London was a good boy, something might come of him with time, but so far he also seemed soft. He was young and inexperienced, full of doubt and questions in his head which needed to be washed away so he could become the fighter he had potential for becoming. The young dog probably felt much pressure resting on his shoulders since his parents were the old alphas of the pack, but still Clegane couldn’t see him as any different from the others. At least not because of whom his parents were. He was a canine nonetheless, a canine who wanted to learn something to be more precise. London might very well know that he could just wait with training until he was old enough, which he probably would be in a few months, but still he’d come to him to learn. And Clegane wouldn’t dismiss him one more time. If that kid wanted to get ahead and learn how to fight, learn how to be better than the others… then he wouldn’t stand in his way.
He pricked up his ears at London’s third question. So, that was where some of the pressure was, huh? London was scared of being labelled as a coward. ”It depends on what you’re going to do after running away that’ll tell if you’re a coward or not,” he explained. ”Will you run after assistance to trakc down your enemy? Run to heal your wounds and then stand tall as ever in the next fight? Or will you run to hide under a table ‘rest of the day? I tell you, London, only one of those are for cowards.” He looked away shortly to look at the playing puppies, continuing after a pause. ” Facing a lion on your own isn’t brave, it’s stupid. Nem’ and I were caught by one years back – both fully trained and powerful soldiers, but we were still no match for a lion. ‘Tried to run, but it wasn’t without a fight.” He looked back at London, tried to wash his emotions off his face, embrace them and let them run through him instead of being consumed by them. It was strange how such a dangerous event in their lives should bring Nemesis and him together. They’d faced much together in their years and Clegane secretly hoped their lives wouldn’t end too soon. Or that they’d continue in the afterlife together if fate wanted this one to end. Embracing emotions wasn’t a thing he did much anymore, not now in his old days. Embracing them left your body cold, making it numb to feelings, and that wasn’t what he always wanted these days. Much had changed, but not on the battlefield. Which was why he embraced the emotions now – he had other things to think about, a future soldier who wanted his advice, his mentoring.
”You ‘ent a coward London. My answer to your question is no. Running away from those beasts doesn’t make you a coward if you aren’t enough to take it down.” He snorted brusquely, almost going to a laugh. ”If that was the case. We’d all be either cowards or dead.” He shook his short fur to wake up his body, then raised an eyebrow at London. ”So. Any more questions? Or did you want to start fighting? Nothing’s going to happen if we sit here, chatting like a bunch of old, fat pigeons,” a dark smile ghosted his lips and a glint appeared in his eye. It didn’t make him any prettier though, his face was ugly and scarred as always. He’d been teaching for many hours today and the sun was shadows were slowly getting long on the ground, but it wasn’t over yet. So why not get the best out of it?
|
|
|
|
Post by Picasso on May 28, 2013 11:18:33 GMT
The lack of hesitation in Clegane's answer didn't surprise London. He had to understand that killing cats could prevent a murder of their own kin in the future, no matter what age they were. Kittens and cubs could grow into monsters if they gave them the chance. However, could their murder become a catalyst for others to seek vengeance? It was a difficult decision to make, and London could already see the beginnings of a vicious circle. No matter what they did, there would always be a war raging around them. You could not seek peace in a bustling city like Hexasol. Two animals cannot live in harmony when there will always be canines and felines with opposing opinions. London was quickly starting to understand the complexity of the war they were in. Whilst each animal fought for dominance, in reality, there would never be a winner. Both packs were too equally matched, meaning there would just be countless deaths after deaths for as long as anybody lived.
He was glued to Clegane's words. He held so much wisdom and knowledge, he was sure to become a skilled soldier with The Hound to guide him. Perhaps they could even make it a weekly occurrence; he could get ahead of his other siblings. A small smile flickered over his lips. He would love to see his parents' faces as he beat his brother and sisters in a play fight. He cocked his head as Clegane spoke of instincts. London understood. Whilst instincts were helpful, they wouldn't win you a fight. You needed the skill and the training to have any hope in winning. He nodded sternly, trying to look as interested as possible. Nevertheless, London was still a puppy, and his mind still wandered when someone was trying to teach him. Guilty, he tried not to get distracted by the butterfly that was fluttering behind Clegane. Clearing his throat, London stiffened his back and sat up straight, like the good soldier he would be.
A breath of relief left London as he heard Clegane's spirit-lifting words. He wasn't a coward for running. Whilst London couldn't help but blame himself for the death of Isobel, it did help to hear Clegane speak those very words. It fascinated London to hear that The Hound had been in a similar situation to London; being attacked by a lion. His eyes widened in wonder as he thought of how Clegane had fought the lion off. If it had been no match for Clegane, then London certainly wouldn't have been expected to attack the lioness a month back. She'd been ten times his size - she could have crushed him with one paw! "Thank you, sir," London breathed, "Already, I have learnt so much."
However, now was the time to fight. With wide eyes, London clumsily scrambled to his paws, wondering whether Clegane expected him to fight the famous Hound. Looking around, the puppy laughed nervously, "You mean... fight you?" He asked, eyeing the huge canine up and down. How could he possibly be a match against Clegane? Surely he couldn't learn any techniques when Clegane could knock him over with a flick of his paw. Nevertheless, London stood courageously before The Hound and met his eyes steadily. |
|
|
|
Post by Hunter on Jun 9, 2013 19:50:31 GMT
”Speech.”
The Hound barked a short laughter, shaking his head. ”Not ready for that yet I’m afraid – will be better to go fetch someone your own size-” he said and looked at the nearby puppies for a moment. However good an opponent those youngsters would be, slightly smaller in size and lesser in weight, Clegane thought about the choice once more. ”-though perhaps a challenge wouldn’t be too much to give you,” he mused aloud, his dark gaze now sweeping over some juveniles who still remained in the area after their training not long ago. The three juveniles were training the techniques he’d taught them earlier today, all giving each other compliments and advice in turn, thereby proving themselves good students and also showing great potential for their future lives. Training at all times would do them good as future soldiers, but training strength, stamina and speed wasn’t everything. Good social abilities could also be an advantage in battle since aiding each other and fighting as a unit was a great triumph card against the more solitary felines.
He gave a single bark, the deep sound craving the three juveniles’ attention and his call was quickly complied as they ran toward him and London. The son of Brooke would within the next months be old enough to join the ranks among the juveniles, and since he wanted to be ahead of the others, why not let him? But he couldn’t get ahead with his fighting skills if he fought puppies, which was why he’d called the juveniles to him. ”Lady and gents, this is London,” he introduced shortly, looking at the four young canines in turn. Two of the students were the Doberman female and Foxhound male from before, the third a seemingly tiny dingo male. ”I have chosen to train London ahead of time, but for that I will need some help from one of you. One of you will fight London this evening,” he said and then turned to only face London. ”After today, you can start training with my team of juveniles in the morning hours when the training is lightest. Then you can stay with us for more hours as your strength intensifies.” His lips curled up in a hint of a smile as smugness crawled into his voice while still keeping a serious manner. ”They’re all older and more experienced than you, but you’ll have to keep up their pace the best you can. When possible, I’ll take you aside while the others train in teams, honing your techniques so you’ll soon become a fine match to the rest of the team.” He eyed London closely to see if the young one was understanding, but then dropped his voice to a darker tune despite his already brusque way of speaking. ”But always remember, boy – I’m offering you this on a silver platter. Should you prove to slack in your training, I’ll kick you out of my team as easily as I’ve taken you in, refusing to train you again before you’ve come of prober age to become a Juvenile.” He grunted once as if to emphasize his warning, before gesturing toward the three juveniles with his big head.
”Now, for this first time, I give you the privilege to choose your opponent. But choose wisely, or you might go to sleep tonight with a very sore backside,” he smirked, eyeing the three juveniles in turn. The Doberman female was the oldest of them and also the best of them, both excelling in speed and strength, not to mention her clever way of fighting. Then there was the Foxhound male, the youngest of the three. He was very strong, but despite his breed, he wasn’t a fast attacker, but whether this grounded in slowness or insecurity of his own decisions, Clegane wasn’t always entirely sure. It was a thing he’d get to know during the following lessons with his team. It was interesting how a mentor could get to know his students. He was giving them something to both body and mind, strengthening both in his training, often working with his juveniles mind and persona as well as their bodies. It was remarkable to see how a member’s personal life could affect its results while training, thereby making it important to work with their confidence while at the same time not making his students arrogant and reckless. Then there was the third of the group, the dingo. He was slightly smaller than London despite the leap in age, but the dingo’s frame was of pure sinew and muscle, his speed remarkable compared to the other students’. He fought with cunning, speed and precision rather than pure strength. Clegane knew he’d put London in a difficult situation, since he was letting the youngster picking an opponent he most likely would know very little about. Surely he’d have seen these members of the pack, but another thing was to know their strengths and weaknesses – a thing he’d also have to learn to see with the eye in his time as Juvenile. It was important to be able to see signs of strengths and weaknesses in the opponent, and if it couldn’t be seen, then learnt as fast as possible during the fight while also calculating the foe’s fighting patterns if such were to be found. Much had to be learnt, and if London was proving as willing and stubborn as he seemed, Clegane silently promised himself that he would give him everything.
|
|
|
|
Post by Picasso on Jun 12, 2013 14:05:40 GMT
London gulped as he looked over at the three canines Clegane had been training previously. He hadn't been watching long enough to see who was the most experienced - or who might kick his arse the quickest. Shakily getting to all fours, London desperately looked up at Clegane. He was expecting London to fight one of them? All three were larger than the chocolate puppy as they started to approach. Nevertheless, London stiffened his back and tried not to let the fear show on his small features. The doberman bitch looked at him, amused, and London could barely meet her gaze. She was clearly calculating how easily she would be able to take him down, and that made London's stomach coil uneasily. He didn't like the look of those sharp teeth that leered at him.
Glancing at Clegane, he nodded determinedly. "I will not slack, sir," He said, his voice threatening to break, "I want to do my Pack proud." I am doing this for you, Issy. The regret would never leave him, but perhaps this training could prevent his future friends from getting killed. There was nothing he could do about Isobel, but he could stop future deaths. As long as Clegane didn't kick him out. London vowed to do his best. He would exceed everyone's expectations. At least, London bloody well hoped so. He may be a small puppy, but already London could see he would grow to be as large as his mother - who was once the leader of Tempest! If she could fight, then so could London. It just required extensive training.
Finally, London was told to choose from the three opponents. One look from the doberman, and London knew she was discarded. She would beat him in less than ten seconds. Shaking his head, he looked at the other two. The foxhound was watching London warily - clearly not as confident as the doberman. Nevertheless, he was still larger than London, but London had a feeling he would be more careful with the puppy, despite orders to not relent. Carefully, London glanced at the dingo, who was surprisingly smaller than himself. London could see the rippling muscles under his torso, and gulped loudly. Size was not always an advantage. Even if London chose the dingo, he excelled in strength and would easily be able to pin the puppy. Whilst this was a difficult decision, it didn't take London long to choose his opponent.
Nodding to the foxhound, he looked up at Clegane, "I think he'll be the best opponent." He said, sending a small opponent to the foxhound. In return, the foxhound cleared his throat and spoke, "The name is Avero, pup." London recognised the faux mask of confidence that the foxhound held about him. It was similar to London's, where he was nervous and desperately wanted to prove himself to Clegane. Feeling a little shaky on his legs, they walked together to a clearer part of the field. The sun was getting low in the sky, making it more difficult to see his opponent. The foxhound kept glancing at Clegane, as though waiting for remarks on how to improve his skill. London had to remember that, despite the foxhound's size, he could still try and gain the upper hand on him if he tried.
"Shall we begin?" London challenged, before charging at the canine. The foxhound easily dodged the first attack, and London made note of how fast Avero was. They begun to dance around each other, one attacking, and the other leaping back before they could do any damage. London, with the lack of training, tired easily. His lungs gasped for air as he rolled to the left, missing Avergo's teeth by an inch. It wasn't long before Avero managed to get a loose grip on London's paw with his teeth. Growling in frustration, London aimed for the foxhound's shoulder, burying his blunt teeth into the skin. They both let go at the same time from pain, Avero's shocked face clear to him.
London knew Avero was being kinder than he would on other opponents. He wasn't attacking to his full potential, purposefully being slow for London to catch up. As much as London appreciated it, he was unsure whether Clegane would be happy with the special treatment London was receiving. The fight finally ended when London slipped up. His paw was hurting from the bite, and he'd accidentally tripped, meaning Avero had pinned him with a teeth locked at his neck. Obviously, Avero applied no pressure, but the meaning was clear. London would be dead if it was a feline in Avero's position. Standing up, London sent Avero a weary smile, "Good fight." He complimented, nodding to him. |
|
|
|
Post by Hunter on Jun 21, 2013 18:10:31 GMT
”Speech.”
Avero stepped forward as London chose him as his opponent. Clegane showed none of his thoughts on his traits, but knew that the young dog probably had made the right choice. With a stern gaze he watched as the males found a prober place to fight, Avero looking his way more than once as if waiting for a signal or comment which Clegane often gave before a fight was taking place. It’d be interesting to see the two males sparring with each other. The foxhound was slightly bigger due to his age, and also much more experienced than London, but still it looked like Avero was unsure if this was a thing he couldn’t or shouldn’t do – as if he waited for Clegane to stop them with a shout, blaming Avero for doing something as stupid as making ready to fight a less experienced dog which wasn’t much more than a pup.
London made ready for the challenge, and the big Beauceron nodded curtly to encourage them. London attacked immediately, but the attack was easy to predict and the foxhound easily danced out of London’s reach. Like that they continued for a while and after a few moments of observing, Clegane started to comment on their fighting – a thing which now came natural for him after having spent the last few months training the young recruits. ”When fighting against a bigger and stronger opponent in a real fight, strike his face or throat as viciously and swiftly as you can, but remember to be careful of the claws if you’re fighting a feline – their claws are much sharper than our nails,” he snorted and continued commenting their fighting while they danced around each other, both looking after weaknesses in each other. ”After distracting your enemy with a well-placed bite or hit, remember you have one, maybe two seconds, to either deal a major blow - or run the hell away if you’re in a fight you cannot win on your own. As I said, one or two, not three seconds. Spend more than two seconds, and you’ll be sure to have wasted your opportunity to get the upper hand.”
London was starting to tire already, but it was what you could expect. He was during fine despite his foxhound opponent holding back. There was much technique to work on, but London seemed eager in his fighting, eager to show what he was worth. That was good, as long as it didn’t make him reckless. ”You might be small, and perhaps not as physically strong as your enemy, but mind you that speed and accusation can be just as deadly as brute strength.” The two dogs now got a hold of each other, both were clenching their teeth around each others’ limps, both hoping to be the last one standing. Clegane didn’t comment on their entanglement, but he kept a trained eye on them anyways – just to make sure none of the boys became too eager to draw blood. Except from his keen gaze, he pretended not to notice their stubborn struggling, only continuing his commenting. ”Think of our Brotherhood of Senka – let them deal a blow at the right place, and I assure you the force behind the strike doesn’t have to be great - it’ll hurt as hell on you anyways,” he rasped, grunting a laugh, and now the two younger dogs let go of each other.
London then accidently tripped in exhaustion and Avero ran to him, using the opportunity to pin down the chocolate dog. ”Weak points can also be used while pinned down – a fine way to get away from your opponent and dodge his teeth. Again, you can strike at your opponent’s throat or face. But that’s a thing you’ll learn much more about during your training lessons. For now, you’re dead meat London. As said before, you’re welcome to train with my team during our morning lessons if you still have the guts.” He rose from the sitting position he’d taken while watching them training, going to stand beside London. ”I’ve gotten an idea of your abilities now,” he said while looking at the young, chocolate-coloured dog and then looked at the foxhound who now had joined his two training mates. ”Thank you Avero, your help was much appreciated. You three are dismissed,” he said and the three of them quickly left after respectfully nodding to both London and him. ”They and the rest of my team of juveniles are your training mates from now on London,” he said while looking after them, his voice having dropped even lower than it normally was due to his now serious manner. ”Learn from them. Learn from everyone in the pack who’s had come far in their life.” He now turned to look London in the eye, his dark eyes meeting the younger dog’s. ”Always learn London, even when you get my age. Never be a fool and think you know everything there is to know. Continue to learn, and you might be privileged enough to see yourself grow old. And then pass down your knowledge that you will prevent seeing yourself outlive your own family.” London was far too young to think about having a family of his own, but still Clegane voiced his thoughts. He’d already outlived plenty of his offspring, though it hadn’t been to feline claws. But he’d seen and heard too much about it – parents who had to bury and mourn their own sons and daughters who’d died at the claws of the felines. It was a horror he hoped never to befall himself. Though it sounded egoistic, he hoped it for love to his own daughters. The little princesses they’d been in his eyes when they’d been small and stocky, what they still were deep within his brutal heart. He couldn’t stand the thought of them dying as young as they were, everyone without a family on their own. He’d thought them fairly safe with the education he’d given them, and even when Natiri had left he hadn’t been much worried about her safety. But then he’d been there, as if out of the blue though he might as well have seen it before. Denim. Next time he saw that wretched monster, he’d tell the bastard to run to the edge of the world and beyond – because that was how far he’d chase him if he ever dared to hurt his daughter.
((OOC: Just felt like mauling Clegane, guess a deluge of muse fell over me there. Guess this is the final post I’ll do with Cleggy unless you want to rp some more out between them. Of course, feel free to post a reply with London if you’d like to. And no, absolutely no off-topic there at the ending.))
|
|
