Hearthwood River with every rising sun

The yearling was rather surprised when his instructor agreed to his proposal, which he had after all posted mostly in jest. As the bonier man leaned in, Orren stumbled slightly, taking half a step back before regaining his balance and pushing against the other. He wasn't about to back down now, especially when this was likely his best chance to gain an advantage over the more experienced wolf. But Kjors still continued to advance, head snaking up along the larger boy's neck with bared teeth, searching for grip.

Orren grumbled, jerking his head upwards to bring it out of the shorter man's reach, but not quickly enough to avoid some of his ruff getting caught between the snapping jaws. Another, more forceful growl rumbled in the Baranski's chest, dark lips pulling back from gritted teeth as he started to pull away from his opponent. Then he pushed off against the ground, lifting himself up on his hind-legs, such forcing the smaller male to either stand up himself or let go. With all his strength and weight behind the blow, he then slammed his forelegs down against Kjors' shoulder, again trying to knock him down. He was still trying to prove himself, determined to get in, at least one hit on his own, showing both his instructor, and himself, that he wasn't completely incompetent; I can do this!

Word count: 227

Thoughts "Speech." 

PLOT WITH ME!

It seemed Orren was picking up on one of the unspoken lessons of physical combat – there was a time it came to simply stop trying to plan and just react. As he shoved his weight forward, the prince began to rear up. It was a good instinct to have, jerking away from closing jaws. Unfortunately, it hadn’t come quickly enough, but perhaps he’d remember this scuffle the next time, when he really needed to avoid teeth and claws. The dragon was able to grasp the younger male’s scruff, using his momentum to push against the bulkier animal. The ruddy wolf didn’t wait for Kjors to use his advantage. Weight shifted backwards and he reared upwards, trying to force the swarthy male to come upwards with him, or release his prize. This was a trap he knew well, and the slender animal released his grip, settling back on his own haunches as Orren went skywards. Using his weight to come back down, he aimed for a tackle, and the older wolf was able to skirt sideways, but not completely avoid the blow. “Better,” he rasped, eye twinkling at the initiative. He whirled sideways, hoping to throw the youth off his feet while his balance was still adjusting upon landing.

Burtn @DA & Dawnthieves.de - Table by PuppyThief

Finally something seemed to be working! As the yearling drew upwards, his attacker released the hold, freeing the boy to raise further, before coming down hard. He felt his paws connecting with yielding flesh, and a triumphant smile lit up his face as he continued downwards. Fueled by this success, the brute snapped out at his opponent, trying to clamp on to him the same way he had just moments earlier. But luck, for surely that was all his limited hit had been, did not last long, and the dragon was once again faster than his student. Orren's teeth snapped around thin air, for about the millionth time it seemed, and his head veered, eyes widening in surprise as the rest of Kjors disappeared underneath him as well.

The boy released an astonished noise as he stumbled backwards, smile morphing into a panicked grimace as he fought to regain his footing before tumbling to the ground. His tail got in the way, tripping him up further, and one of his front paws slipped in the wet grass, landing him in a half slumped position, legs awkwardly stretched in unnatural angles. He gritted his teeth, wincing slightly before slowly pulling in his legs one at a time, eyes pointedly turned at the ground. Ears burning, the Baranski bit his lip, deciding to nurse his pride later and give in to the fact that, clearly, he was no master fighter; He said he'd teach me after all... So the slain lad thrust out his chin, lifting his head to look at the bistre male, persimmon eyes reluctantly meeting the single, golden one opposite. Orren mustered a sheepish smile, and then a breathy laugh as his sore ego began to deflate, and he realized the ridiculousness of the situation. With a crooked grin, he nodded once in direction of his instructor, waving his tail conceding; "Alright, what am' doing wrong?"

Word count: 317

Thoughts "Speech." 

PLOT WITH ME!

Kjors’ tail swayed behind him once, the only betrayal of his general pleasure at surprising the youth. The tackle had been successful, forcing the prince off balance and causing him to stumble backwards. He might have saved himself, but his thick, bushy tail was caught under a foot, and the flailing continued until the teenager ended up on the ground, sprawled out at awkward angles. The dragon gave brief pause then, pulling up from any motion as he tipped his head to one side – had the prince been hurt in the tumble? As the boy stood slowly, he made no motion to come after the dragon – again, the man had to wonder if he’d accidentally injured his student in the scuffle. But soon a sheepish smile followed, and he was able to breath a sigh of relief. The only thing that had been wounded was Orren’s pride. It was not unexpected with a male of his age, in his position. The man hummed, bobbing his head once as he gave the question a moment’s thought. “Well, yer treatin’ me like Ah’m you. Ah ain’t – Ah’m small for a male,” he emphasized, lifting a paw as if that would show off his slender stature. “Ah’m fast. Y’ain’t gonna catch me by chasin’ me – but Ah’m not gonna do you damage like a wolf a’ yer size would. So when Ah come fer ya, don’t try t’ dodge me, alright? Turn my attack back on meself when Ah’m near – then y’don’t gotta catch me either.” No sooner had the last words left his lips did the man charge forward. He launched himself straight at @Orren as he’d said, dipping his head low to grab a front leg. After all, it was unlikely the lad would find himself in a truly life-or-death situation – pack challenges rarely resulted in much. Lurching forward, he grappled for the prince’s left forelimb, wrapping his mouth around it and giving a tug, as if he were to set the yearling off balance once again.

Burtn @DA & Dawnthieves.de - Table by PuppyThief

Sorry for leaving this hanging so long. :/ Since it's technically a miss, feel free to play out Orren's attack however you like.

I few pulled muscles might come back to haunt him tomorrow, but for now the young lad was not bothered by his mishap; Physically anyway. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake it off, and Kjors seemed to take the hint, addressing the question as if nothing had happened. Orren listened carefully, brow slightly furrowed as he considered the dragon's words. At first it seemed mocking; Of course you're not ME! Then, as the slender man continued to explain, his student began to feel embarrassed. Though he had thought of their difference in stature, knowing that it could offer him an advantage if he just managed to get past the hurdle of his lack of speed, he'd never thought of the possibility of letting his opponent come to him. Ever the hunter, Orren had thought of catching as his only option, attempting to corner his prey, all the while wanting to evade his attacks if at all possible.

But Kjors was suggesting the opposite, reminding his young opponent that he was no raging bull with flailing hooves and deadly antlers; Though he's not entirely harmless! The boy silently winced at his increasingly sore body, feeling like there was not on spot left the had not been hit at least once. But he was not ready to give up, even if it meant taking another blow head on. He was left with no more time to think, let alone answer, before the bistre man was suddenly charging again. Orren's first impulse was to pull back, trying to dodge the much faster wolf. But he suppressed it, instead steeling himself as Kjors made contact, pale paws digging into the dirt to keep his balance as the other rammed into him. Quick as lightning, the older male grabbed into an exposed front leg, tugging hard. Following his advice, Orren allowed Kjors to pull him forwards, full weight such lurching towards the smaller man. Meanwhile, the boy looked frantically for an opening, baring his teeth as he pushed back into the mottled fur. With his head lowered to tug at Orren's leg, Kjors' most vulnerable areas were protected, but the bigger lad also so an advantage, as he leaned over his opponents bended neck. With a jolt, the Baranski prince snapped out, reaching down to grab hold of the dark male's exposed scruff and wrestle him to the ground.

Word count: 395

Thoughts "Speech." 

PLOT WITH ME!

Kjors rolled in like an oncoming storm, gathering strength and power as he charged. He would always be small; the sickness of his youth guaranteed he would always be the runt his mother was so ashamed of. It would have been easy, to spend his entire life wallowing in vat of self pity, wishing he were something else. Such a fate would have been even easier to slide into after his right eye had been plucked right from his skull. And yet here he was, making an effort to be part of such a pack, teaching the youth to fight. Not all wolves he met would be like himself, and better he learn it now before someone down the road wreck him. The pair of wolves collided like the waves of a choppy sea crashing against the rocky shoreline he used to call home, and teeth made contact with a forelimb. He was careful not to sink such daggers in, for Orren was not true enemy, and he wished the boy no actual damage. Still, it worked, he wrestled the man down, despite the weight on top of him. He’d taken the lesson to heart, the yearling using what he’d heard and gripping at Kjors’ scruff. It was a clever idea, though he didn’t take enough, and the older wolf was able to surge forward with a strained grunt. He went forward, and down, until he grounded the youth, and ended scuffle once and for all. Immediately, he released and retreated, shaking out his pelt with a soft noise, tail wagging idly behind him. It had been a good fight. “Well done,” he awarded the aspiring hunter, dipping his head. “Y’did better there, in th’ end. Once yer full grown, yer gonna be trouble.” A smile sat upon his lips as he hummed softly. This was enough for now, but he had little doubt the lad would only improve with time. “Y’got any other questions?”

Burtn @DA & Dawnthieves.de - Table by PuppyThief

Could probably start wrapping up if you want, get it off our plates? :3

Yeah I think it's about time :P You can fade in your next post?

He was bigger, both taller and more heavy set than his opponent. This was supposed to be his advantage! But brawn wasn't all in a fight, and for Orren it was a fact that his muscles had yet to gain the true, hardy strength that came from long use; And the accuracy that came with experience. So his attempt to grab his opponent failed, and he was left with a mouth full of hair as Kjors pushed onwards, forcing him off balance. The bulky yearling staggered back half a step, trying to keep on his feet long enough to stage a second attack, but it was no use, he had missed his chance. With a routine that could only come from years of wrestling with larger opponents, the dragon forced Orren to the ground, pinning him there just long enough to prove that he was the victor. The coppery boy thumped his head into the dust, releasing a groan by way of acceptance; He was defeated.

It hadn't been a total lose though, the teenager realized, even through the haze of bruised pride. Kjors had given him a good lesson, both explaining and demonstrating several things that he could use in any future scuffles, and he had done so in a very clever way. Orren raised his head again, looking at the one eyed male with respect in his persimmon eyes, tail drumming rhythmically against the ground behind him. A grin slowly spread on his face, excitement glowing on his face at the praise. "Ya' really think so?" He asked while lowering his head to the ground once more, rolling over in the dust before getting back to his feet, shaking himself thoroughly, sending sand flying in all directions. Then he turned his attention back on the bistre wolf; "Only one. When can we do this again?!" He was ready to go again at that very moment, all he need was a drink of water and… A stab of pain shot up the boy's thigh when he moved to take a step and stretched out the muscle, a small twitch pulling at the corner of his mouth; Okay, maybe I need a few days… But then he would love to spar with the dragon again.

Word count: 375

Thoughts "Speech." 

PLOT WITH ME!

Of course he thought so, his expression seemed to say – Kjors wasn’t invested in weaving stories for a yearling simply to bolster his self-wroth. Not here, at least, and not now. It would not serve either of them in the least. He watched as the yearling settled himself in the dust just beginning to warm with the sun’s morning light for a good roll, and decided he had the right idea. The shadowy wolf followed suit, dropping to his knees before thrusting his legs upward, rubbing his back into the dirt. It felt quite nice, and the small male let out a satisfied huff before gathering his feet beneath him once more, joining Orren as the pair shook themselves out. The question, however unexpected, drew a husky laugh from the older wolf. The prince was just a bundle of surprises, he thought, single eye bright as he turned to watch the boy. “Soon as y’like,” he replied easily, bowing downwards to stretch out his spines. “Yer never t’old t’practice – so Ah’d be happy t’do it again.” With that said, he tipped his noise to the sky, squinting at the sun as it climbed ever higher into the sky. “Just let me know~” And with that, the older wolf turned about to disappear into the forest, in search of one of his own caches to sate the hunger he’d just worked up. Fade.

Burtn @DA & Dawnthieves.de - Table by PuppyThief

@Orren -- we did it! Finally done! :D Get yer LP man!