Training wheels

Artorias watched the mannequin shake violently as the wooden sparring sword connected with its head with a satisfying thwack! Focused eyes were narrowed into deadly points, teeth bared around the hilt of his sword as he spun and brought the sword around into the dummy's head and neck again, repeating the steps again and again each time with lethal efficiency. A murderous fire burned in his heart as he pictured taking out the wolf that had desecrated and demeaned his family, trying to picture the monster's face with every blow of his sword. In the days that had followed his return to the Hallows, Artorias had tried to find any leads that would point him in the direction his sister's attacker. As suspected, the scents around the Cedar Falls were gone by now, leaving him with nothing but a description and a general area. He'd sent Corbin out to scout for loners in Auster to see if anyone had seen a wolf fitting that description and could point him down a path. Until then, he trained, preparing himself for the moment when he would cut this bastard's head from his neck.

Artorias had been so lost in his training that he didn't hear the door to the dojo open, nor Ulric slip inside to observe him. The young brute wailed on the poor dummy again and again with his sword, switching up combos and parries to deadly efficiency. Each flurry of attacks was choreographed with practiced steps to make sure every blow dealt as much damage as it could. Huffing and growling with each movement, Artorias became more aggressive swing after swing after swing, until with a snarl, he smashed the sword against the dummy's head, knocking it from its shoulders and snapping the wooden blade in half in turn. Artorias panted hard, letting his breathing come under control before turning to collect a new sword and spotting Ulric off to the side. He blinked in surprise, dropping the broken sword to the floor with a clatter as he approached his alpha.

Ulric greeted him with a comment on his work ethic around his training. Artorias smirked and nodded, glancing back at the maimed mannequin and broken sparring sword. He couldn't deny that he'd always taken his training seriously, but this felt much more severe to him than any time before. He was training for a fight to the death. "If you're not getting better, you're getting worse, right?" Artorias quipped back with a chuckle of his own, then nodded to Ulric's request. "Of course. What's on your mind?"

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Corbin" | "Argent"