Stoking the Embers

Artorias · 11-30-2020, 05:10 PM

In many ways, this simple moment between mother and son had become a major defining point in young Artorias' life. A new chapter had been started, and with it came the rest of the blank pages, waiting to be filled in with his actions, his choices, and his spirit. This was not a decision that he had taken lightly. Many a night had been spent lying awake amongst the pile of his siblings, staring out into dark nothingness, wondering what—and who—he wanted to be. It was a funny thing to consider of a boy his age, an existential dilemma dwelling dormant in his mind, but he had seen so many wolves of different walks of life in his short time on earth. Who was he going to be? That decision had been far harder for him to come to an answer on, more so than coming to terms with what it meant had. He was a child, and as such did not know the amount of sacrifice his path would require. It didn't matter to him. At least not now.

Amber eyes blinked in rapid surprise when Resin suddenly scooped the boy up in her large limbs once more, the little dark-hued pup happy to nuzzle his face into the ash grey fur of his mother's chest. She was a mountain compared to him, and he had never felt more safe than when she was around. Artorias silently hoped that one day he'd be to someone what she was to him: shelter and security. Also if he got that big too, that'd be a nice bonus, but the little pup wasn't holding his breath for that just yet. A soft giggle escaped the boy when her tongue swiped across his brow, matting his fur up in spiky clumps that he tried to smooth back down with a small paw.

Resin spoke again, detailing his new routines and training plans. Artorias listened with raised, attentive ears, peering up at his mother's face as best he could from his current position in her chest fluff. Running a patrol didn't sound too hard on paper—but Artorias didn't know how long Resin's patrols were. His eyes moved over to the rocks lining the edges of each of the falls. Again, that didn't seem too difficult—but Artorias didn't know how heavy and unmovable some rocks insisted on being. The tasks sounded simple enough. But if Resin was giving them to him, she was doing it for a reason, and he trusted her methods. She was the most accomplished warrior in the Hallows, after all.

Finally, Resin got to the part about training for combat and battle strategy. The fire in Artorias' eyes smoldered once more. He didn't know all of the responsibilities of a knight just yet, but he knew combat would require the greatest amount of his abilities. In a life or death situation, Artorias did not want to be on the side that lacked any skills. Then the talk came of armor and weapons! The fire burned brighter in the boy's soul. He hadn't even considered getting real useful armor or a weapon, but that did make sense. A knight had to have every possible advantage when stepping onto the battlefield. Armor would help keep him safe from the fangs and claws of the world. A weapon though... Artorias knew only his sticks, which he gleefully beat his brother with. Were there even more weapons out there that were better for combat? Would they be useful to have, or just a burden in the heat of battle? Artorias did not know, but what he did know was that even the most effective weapon would be useless if he were unable to fight with his own teeth and claws. The basics had to be mastered before anything else could be added in. What if he got disarmed, like he had been when fighting Rudy? He would have to be as proficient, if not more so with the weapons the gods had given him as he was with any other tool.

What took Artorias by surprise was when Resin admitted that she was happy with his chosen path, and his ears folded bashfully to his head when she addressed him as "her little knight". A tender smile graced his muzzle and he nuzzled into her chest once more, letting her warmth and scent surround him for a moment. "Thanks, Mom," he replied, trying to not let his voice quiver with the excitement or emotions he was feeling from her admission of pride. The next thing he knew, she gently maneuvered him back out in front of her yellowed gaze as if he weighed nothing. She must have been so strong to just do that all the time! Her query about his knowledge of fighting brought another serious expression to the pup's face. This was his first test: a test to see what he was capable of.

Artorias rose to his paws, shuffling into a rudimentary battle stance that he had been taught in his lessons with Dunkan. "I know that you're supposed to stand like this..." Once he had his paws bladed, Artorias lowered his head to align his head and spine, keeping his body low and tense, ready to spring. "And I know you're supposed to aim for exposed spots, like the neck and eyes. That's what Dunkan taught us." Dunkan's lessons had been very basic introductory courses to the art of fighting, more akin to giving the pups a taste of what battle was supposed to be like. But when he'd fought with Rudy, it had been a lot less... choreographed. Battle was rough, and messy, and chaotic. Nobody had taught them about that part of combat. Something inside him told him that lessons with Mom were going to be very, very different. Artorias was actually hoping they would be. "Oh, and I know how to hit Rudy with sticks."

"Speech" | Thoughts

One big happy family

Artorias has two ravens named Corbin and Eira and a fox named Argent. Assume they are within calling distance at all times.
As his mate, Briar may enter Artorias' threads unless marked Private.
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