Duel Vulpinsula & Surroundings Insanely Rich Area Forged in Fur and Flame

[FinnianBrightfur]

Finn managed to push himself up off the ground -- goodness, his midriff was so sore from the flutter kicks, he felt like a limp noodle. Was this what stoats felt like every day?

The foxkit wobbled on his feet for a few steps, before colliding with Mme Lorelei's doting paw. She seized his cheek, and before he knew it, she'd blurted out the hateful C-word. How could she? IN FRONT OF ALL THE GUYS, TO BOOT. THE INDIGNITY. Worse still, she had the audacity to try and smooth over the insult with something Finn couldn't turn down. As Finn ruefully held the mint in his paws, his ears splayed flat with ire. Was his dignity for sale?

...yes, yes it was. Finn popped the mint in his muzzle, and sucked on it cheerfully while Alwyn explained the rules of engagement. He did seem caught off guard when Alwyn tapped him for Swift's sparring partner... But the excitement quickly overwhelmed the surprise, and he trotted off with Alwyn to gear up. Bending over slightly, Finn seized the back of his shirt and tugged it off over his head. He'd watched a handful of matches between the Stoaties -- and he'd be darned to the gates if he didn't do this properly! As Alwyn finished lacing up the armor, he hopped nimbly on his foot paws with bristling energy.

The cheering from the side lines sent a fire through his veins. Oscar, Theo, and the other Stoaties had taken him under their wing, and hearing their encouragement drove him forward with a vicious lunge. His movements weren't fluid like those of a trained swordsbeast -- they were mechanical and rigid, like a dibbun tracing over letters as he learned to write. Still, Finn had nothing at stake to hold him back, and had enough energy to catch Swift off guard.

The older fox still had him in strength. There was nothing he could do to resist the parry... and internally, Finn knew his only hope for victory was to beat Swift in speed.

Oh my. I've gotta be swifter than Swift. Heeeehehee.

"HEY SWIFT! Remember when you slapped me in the face on Urk?" he asked, with an impish grin so wicked that it would warm the cold heart of Vulpuz himself. The kit had no ill will towards Swift -- quite the opposite. Swift had needed to call him up something greater in that moment. But now, that something greater stood before him, knowing exactly how to weaponize the tale into an awkward situation by stripping away the context. "Maybe y'can explain that to everyone after y'lose!" he said, grin splitting his muzzle in two. The kit lunged forwards again, jabbing the tip of his cutlass towards Swift's ribs.

 

[Cricket]

Somewhere above the walls of the courtyard two large, silvery eyes stared unblinking down at the spectacle of combat practice. Cricket could not afford to let herself be seen – she had witnessed on the streets before how rigidly the Guard stuck to their laws, and this was high trespass indeed to have scaled their walls – but the little gecko was hardly about to miss seeing Finn. It had taken no small amount of stealth to time each advancement to make her way up to this perch where she clung now to the walls, dirt-dusted sacking thrown over her shoulders to blend in with stonework. Context didn’t much matter as to why they were sparring, she was just excited to see somebeast get a battering.

It wasn’t especially easy to identify the creatures from here, though she recognised a few adults from the fireworks incident and a great deal of strangers observing the sparring match. Why Finn had been selected to spar she didn’t know, but she wasn’t complaining. He was a sailor, after all: stood to reason he’d be decent with a sword. A grin split her snout to see him holding his own. G’wan Finn, show those grown-ups; send ‘em on their tails!

Still, for all her enthusiasm for a fight there seemed a certain…levity to the event which she hadn’t really expected. There were lots of foxes, too, and - oh. It was just like watching a little family together. Her stomach knotted uncomfortably, quite suddenly struck by the sensation that she was intruding on something not meant for her. Claws dug into the masonry, angst manifesting as stubborn desire instead. Tough: she was here, and she was going to silently cheer for Finn anyway. Nobeast said she had to go, and wouldn’t it make a fun sight to see his face when she told him she’d seen him take his shirt off? Snuggling deeper beneath the sacking as fresh breezes blew in from the sea, Cricket watched the ongoing match with renewed interest, silently cheering on her companion.

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

“That’s right Finn! Control his center line, and do not let up on him, like you’ve been trained to do! Good lad!” Alwyn barked, seeking to give encouragement to his son. It was, perhaps, not fair to Swifttail, but he would not always have beasts encouraging him on in his life-in fact, quite the opposite, and he would have to learn how to deal with this. And what was this about a slap on Urk?

Time to get your revenge Finnan!

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

"Come on Swift!" Silvertongue called out. "You can do this! I believe in you!"

Silvertongue wasn't sure if he was helping, but he wanted to be encouraging nevertheless. It was a bit odd to see him fight a kit like this, even if it was just for training.

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Swifttail barely had time to reset his footing before another strike came snapping toward him. He caught it on instinct, wood ringing against wood, but the impact still rattled up his arms and forced him back another step. His breath came sharp and uneven now, chest heaving far harder than it should have been so early on.

"Legs wide. Knees bent. Tail steady."

Kaii’s voice rose unbidden in his mind, steady as a drumbeat. Swift tried to obey, widening his stance, letting his tail shift for balance instead of curling uselessly around his ankle. It helped. A little. It was at least enough that the next blow glanced off his guard instead of slamming through it.

Finn darted back, then in again, light on his feet, confidence written into every movement.

"Watch the whole body. Don’t chase the blade."

Darragh’s words followed close behind, bright and insistent. Swift tried to heed them, forcing his gaze away from Finn’s cutlass and up toward his shoulders, his hips, the subtle shift of weight before each attack.

There. An opening.

For the first time since the bout began, Swift moved with intent rather than panic. He stepped in, not fast enough to be clean, but fast enough to matter, bringing his blade across in a short, defensive arc meant only to check Finn’s advance.

He misjudged the distance. The wooden blade caught Finn square across the muzzle with a dull, hollow crack.

Finn staggered back with a sharp yelp, both paws flying to his face as red bloomed instantly between his fingers. A heartbeat later, the crowd erupted, laughter and cheers crashing together in a single overwhelming wave.

Swifttail froze.

"Stars above! No, no, no..."

“I... Finn, I...” His voice cracked as he stumbled backward, blade lifting defensively even as horror flooded him. “I’m sorry! I didn’t... I swear I didn’t mean...”

He didn’t press the advantage. The thought made his stomach twist violently. He retreated instead, boots scraping stone, eyes locked on Finn as if afraid he might collapse.

However, Finn instead straightened almost immediately, blood streaking down his nose, eyes bright and unshaken. He wiped his muzzle on his sleeve, grinning through it as if this were some grand victory instead of a mistake.

And just like that, he was coming at Swift again.

The realization settled heavy and undeniable in Swifttail’s chest. He raised his guard once more, arms trembling now with more than effort. His lungs burned, and he was panting heavily. The jeers and laughter pressed in on all sides, drowning out everything else, even the faint sound of Silvertongue's familiar voice trying desperately to cheer him on from the sidelines.

He backed away, blade up, breath ragged, legs already screaming for rest. He was winded. He was shaken. And he was painfully, humiliatingly aware of one simple truth as Finn pressed him again without mercy:

He was already outmatched.

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

WELL. He might have been phased a little.

The armor he was dressed in protected his torso, arms, and head wonderfully. His joints, knuckles, and head however? Gates -- how it smarted when he got whacked there! And Swift's sword came crashing down right on his snoot. Finn let out a rather undignified yip as he stumbled backwards. He saw stars for a moment, paw instinctively covering the wound as he held his sword up defensively.

Meanwhile, on the side lines, Oscar slapped his forehead with a groan. Digging around in his pocket, he slapped a gilder down into Theo's paw. Finn, however, was oblivious to all the cheering with the ringing in his ears.

Though little dibbuns would have stopped the fight, this was a propper duel. You couldn't just call timeout! Alwyn hadn't called the fight, and Swift was entitled to press his attack by all rights. Finn appreciated the small respite -- and checked his paw. ...it could be worse! Robustly, he raised his sword point at the fox with a grin, and briskly hopped forwards, crowding him towards the sidelines. "What's with the retreat, Swift? I've fenced a sack of turnips fiercer'n you!"

With a sharp flick, Finn swung his sword overhead, looking to create an opening. And there it was. Using the momentum from Swift's parry, the foxkit swung an elegant moulinet, slashing upwards across the todd's torso.

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

The impact hit him like a hammer wrapped in cloth.

The wooden blade swept up across Swifttail’s torso, the force of it thudding through the padding and straight into his ribs. The armor spared him the worst of it… but only just. The breath was torn from his lungs in a sharp, humiliating gasp as his body rocked backward, boots scraping uselessly against stone.

That would’ve been first blood. The thought came unbidden, stark and absolute.

He tried to move. Tried to recover. His paws shifted a heartbeat too late, guard lifting after the fact instead of before it, and his balance faltered beneath him. His legs burned and screamed, refusing to do what he asked of them fast enough. He staggered another step back and then his knee struck stone hard, armor clacking dully as he dropped to one knee despite himself. Instinct dragged his blade down with him, its tip scraping the ground as he braced against it, head bowed, shoulders heaving.

His lungs fought him for air.

Legs wide. Knees bent. Tail steady.

Watch the whole body. Don’t chase the blade.

His friends' voices echoed through his mind uselessly now. Advice arriving after the lesson had already been delivered. He could see it so clearly in hindsight. He saw the shift of Finn’s weight, the rotation of his shoulders, the opening he’d missed because he’d been watching the wrong thing again.

The crowd’s noise washed over him in a distorted roar, laughter and commentary blurring together until it became little more than pressure against his ears. Somewhere within it, faint and desperate, he thought he heard Silvertongue’s voice calling his name… but it was swallowed whole before it could reach him.

He sucked in another ragged breath, claws digging into the grip of the wooden blade as he tried to push himself upright. His arms trembled with the effort. His chest ached. The armor that had felt protective moments ago now weighed on him like an anchor.

If this had been Greeneye, the dual would be over...

Swifttail stayed where he was, one knee down, head lowered, breath dragging painfully in and out of his chest as the truth settled heavy and undeniable over him.

He hadn’t been ready.

And everyone here could see it clear as day.

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

“Up, Fairpaws! Again! You too Finnian! Keep going until I tell you otherwise!” Alwyn barked authoritatively, while keeping a keen eye on both of them, but more so Swifttail. He needed to observe more to see what the real problem was, though even now he was beginning to have suspicions.

@SwifttailTheFox @FinnianBrightfur @Silvertongue Songfox

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

That would’ve been first blood.

First blood? First blood!? First blood was trickling down Finn's snoot, Swifttail!

In all honesty, Finn hadn't anticipated the blow actually landing. In his mind, Swifttail was older -- and therefore faster, stronger, and invulnerable compared to a little kit. But there Swift was, on his knees -- with the spectators roaring from the sidelines. Oscar cheered, and socked Theo in the shoulder, ribbing him about how the odds were shifting.

The foxkit stood over the fallen todd, and flipped his wooden sword over the back of his shoulders, bracing it like a yoke. "Swiiiift, c'mon is that all y'got?" he taunted (as if blood weren't running down his chin at the moment.) "Yer bein' so dramatic! It was barely a poke!" And turning briskly, he swung his tail in the air right past the todd's face.

Except, he had intended to make contact.

Taking a halfstep back, Finn wagged his tail back and forth to tickle the tip of Swift's snoot with his tail. In a fraternal way, he seemed to have a sixth sense about just how much of this Swift would tolerate, and he quickly sprang away before the todd could get at him.

Pulling on the sword handle, Finn broke the yoke from his neck, and swung the sword down to strike at the dust, daring the todd to step forward. "Come'n get me, Swift! I'll run ya thru!" Egging the older fox on, Finn made no attempt to hide his strategy: use the older fox's momentum against himself, and counter attack in the opening it created.

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

Silvertongue stood on the sidelines, paws clasped in worry. "Come on, Swift!" He shouted. "Get up! Please, please try again!"

Silvertongue hoped and prayed to whoever might have been listening. Swifttail needed to succeed with this training, or... well... Silvertongue wasn't sure how they would beat Greeneye.

 

[SwifttailTheFox]

Alwyn’s barked command snapped through the din like a lash.

Again.

Swifttail forced himself upright, breath tearing ragged from his chest as he dragged his blade up with him. His legs trembled beneath the armor, protest screaming through muscle and bone, but he planted his footpaws anyway. He didn’t dare look at the crowd. He didn’t dare look at Silvertongue.

Why won’t he stop it?

The question burned hotter than the ache in his ribs. Why won’t he call it? Why won’t he let me breathe, let me hide, let me pull myself together out of sight of all these watching eyes?

Finn was already moving again.

The kit’s confidence pressed in close, with quick footwork and taunts with infuriating ease, herding him, testing him, daring him to break. Laughter rippled along the edge of the square. Swifttail’s jaw clenched hard enough to make his teeth ache as he fought off the urge to itch his nose where Finny's tail had brushed past. His ears flattened as he raised his guard.

Enough.

The word wasn’t thought. It rose from somewhere deeper, raw and sharp, cutting clean through the noise. He wasn’t a spectacle. He wasn’t prey. He wasn’t some trembling thing meant to be laughed at and chased into corners.

His stance shifted without him quite realizing it. Feet spread wider. Knees bent. His tail swung out, counterbalancing instead of curling tight. His gaze lifted, no longer glued to Finn’s blade, but to the whole of him, the set of his shoulders, the roll of his hips, the rhythm of his movement.

The world narrowed. Somewhere, faint and desperate, Silvertongue’s voice called his name, but it was swallowed whole by the crowd before it could reach him. It didn’t matter. For the first time since the bout began, Swifttail wasn’t listening outward at all.

Finn pressed again, too confident, too sure of his advantage, and something in that certainty cracked.

Swifttail lunged.

He drove forward on instinct alone, closing the distance hard, blade and shoulder and sheer mass bearing down as he chased the opening Finn had assumed wouldn’t be taken. His breath came out in a harsh growl as he forced the kit back, boots thudding, armor clacking, pressure relentless.

The reaction was immediate.

The crowd’s laughter shifted, surprise threading through it. Finn’s easy rhythm faltered, just for a heartbeat, and in that moment he saw that this wasn’t play anymore.

The cost hit him just as fast.

Swifttail's lungs burned. His arms shook with the effort, the surge draining him quicker than he could afford. He couldn’t keep this pace. He knew it even as he pushed, even as his body screamed for air and his steps grew heavier with every breath.

But he didn’t retreat.

He stayed in it, blade up, eyes locked, forcing the space. He was choosing the fight instead of shrinking from it as the edge of something final loomed just ahead, and Alwyn stood there, watching, poised to bring it all crashing down.

 

[Cricket]

From somewhere above the action there came a faint, warbling chirp of excitement. Said noise might have proven comparable to a pigeon with a particularly rough throat, if the pigeon then happened to realise its footing was precarious and slid out of sight immediately after making such an exclamation.

It had been difficult not to get carried away. Had she known Swifttail personally and the stakes at play the little gecko might have even been cheering his efforts in an attempt to encourage; as it was she was familiar only with Finnian and could only be impressed by his skills. Indignation had fired up her scales when he took a hit, but it hardly stopped her friend. That was what had drawn the whoop from her. Ha! Adults were always so condescending: good on him showing them up.

Now, cringing against the wall, ducked out of sight, she snuggled beneath the sacking and knew she needed to wait out the risk of being spotted. A minute would do.

Unfortunately that banked on Cricket being able to count to sixty. Six would be a miracle.

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Even Finn was caught off guard with how aggressively Swift closed ground. The foxkit did his best to not show his surprise, and raised his sword in both paws to meet the older todd. He swung into the blow, hoping to knock Swift off his centerline -- but their blades locked together, catching at the cross guard. Finn threw his weight into the hilt, feet scraping backwards on the dirt floor as he struggled to hold his ground. Petulantly, he tried to angle his sword in to try and tag Swift, but the older todd gave a firm shove, and sent Finn reeling.

The kit tucked into a sideways roll, desperately trying to get distance. In the chaos, he lost track of his opponent. He knew he was vulnerable on the ground, and Swift was hot on his heels -- he absolutely had to get as much distance as possible. As he rolled a second, time, Finn planted one paw in the dirt, and rolled up onto his knees, eyes looking up to search for Swift. He barely had enough time to raise his sword, blocking a vicious slash.

Finn was on the run now, paws stinging from the force of the blow. Struggling to regain his balance again, Finn gripped the blade of his sword in one paw, and raised it to block the powerful blows raining down on him. He gave out a cry as he toppled over on his back, and tried to scoot away. Returning blows was impossible at this point, all he could do was try to keep his guard up -- but Swift had no intention of letting that happen.

The todd swung down hard on Finn's sword, locked their blades, and pivoted the tip over the edge to stab downwards. The wooden point lodged into the lacings on his leather vest, surely signalling a kill. The foxkit went limp in surrender, laughter spilling out of his muzzle. "Ey! Ey, alright, you got me! You go--hurrrgghhahahaowwww!!" Swift gave the sword a firm shove for effect, drawing a groan (and more laughter) from the fox, who defensively grabbed at the sword point to try and get relief from the crushing pressure on his chest. "Blaaahhhaahawwwgh! Yow yow, y'win! Y'win!"

 

[Alwyn Ryalor]

Alwyn, unlike the rest of the crowd, remained silent, watching both his son and Swifttail with sharp green eyes as they engaged in yet another round of combat, making observations of them both. When it was clearly finished, he raised his right paw and the crowd quieted down as he firmly announced the end of the duel.

“And that’s the end of that round. Finnian,” he intoned, making sure to use his son’s full name to indicate that he had done something wrong, which he had, “step out of the ring, and clean yourself up. There are fresh towels and a barrel of clean water near the benches. Mr. Fairpaws, you stay right where you are, and take a few moments to regain your breath.”

He knew Finnian hated being called so formally, but he had to nip certain tendencies in the bud for his son’s proper development, so that he could be better than his father and especially his grandfather, and survive. He had done well enough for the limited amount of training he had thus far received, but Alwyn had not been happy about how he had arrogantly teased Swifttail. That had caused him to underestimate his opponent, and though this was but a training duel, in the real world that could have gotten him killed. There were times and places to taunt one’s opponent, but it had to be backed up with a strategy, which Finny clearly did not have before he spoke the words.

Alwyn, for his part, moved towards the various items he had assembled, seemingly searching for something for a little while he smiled and picked it up. It was a wooden cutlass, the exact same type of weapon that Swifttail would be up against in his duel. He had received training in all types of swords as part of his rigorous trials in the Guard, though he usually favored the longsword for land deployments, but he figured he would be about roughly equal to Greeneye given the latter’s disabilities which he had carefully sent feelers out for before this training session. Turning, he made his way back to the assembled ring, and nodded at Swifttail.

“Have you sufficiently recovered, Mr. Fairpaws?” He asked formally, giving him a cool smile as he did so. He hated to do it to the poor other younger todd, but it was his job to make sure he succeeded. “You won about half the time versus a kit at the very beginning of his training, tired from a very busy night and early morning exercise, congratulations. Let us see what you can do against a real opponent who is sufficiently rested and your size. When you are ready, lift your blade.”

He drew the cutlass, and immediately positioned himself properly, emerald eyes cool and hard as he stared directly into Swifttail’s own, as if he were Greeneye himself.

The crowd roared in anticipation.

@SwifttailTheFox @FinnianBrightfur @Cricket @Silvertongue Songfox

 

[Silvertongue Songfox]

Silvertongue blanched. Facing Finny was one thing, but Alwyn was a full-blown soldier. A Lieutenant of the Stoatorian Guard. which Silvertongue felt was different from a Lieutenant of the Navy.

Madame Lorelei, who had been watching silently, raised an eyebrow. "Well, now things are truly becoming interesting."

"I just wish Greeneye would grow up and call off this stupid duel nonsense." Silvertongue turned to her now.

Madame Lorelei shook her head. "I know, but as much as he hates to admit it, Greeneye is every bit of his father's son after all. Stubborn to a fault and stupidly possessive. Your new partner winning that duel is the only thing that will satisfy him. He needs this training badly."

Silvertongue sighed worriedly and turned back to Swifttail, his heart pounding in his chest.