Arvian Changes - Isiat
I can't believe I never got around to posting this! Ach!
Some absolutely outstanding art by @Zinyawolf over on Twitter, who I had the pleasure of getting two commissions from late last year. She was an absolute treat to work with, despite having no clue what an Arvian was when I embarked on this project with her. I'd say the results speak for themselves! :D
This piece I love because it really emphasizes the sheer scale of the physical differences before and after the change, as well as the twin moons often mentioned in Arvian lore. I highly recommend her. Go check her other works out! Her following is small, but her quality and attention to detail really speaks volumes of her skills!
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Blade and spear clashed with an almighty ringing of metal. The two combatants circled each other, neither able to gain the upper hand, nor able to find a weakness. Rapier and Pike glanced off each other, the blades unerringly precise in their motions. Each knew the other’s moves before they made them, and each knew the other’s strengths and weaknesses.
They were, after all, their own.
The black-pelted Arvian shrieked out from his curved beak, thrusting and lancing with his long pike. In his taloned hands, it was no bigger than a spear would have been for an ordinary man, but placed in the hands of an unchanged, it was a nearly 9-foot monster, with a blade that would have fit a Gladius upon its point.
“Battles of the mind are lost by indecision!”
His foe’s words seemed to come from all around, lacking a source despite how his vulpine muzzle moved. The male before him was shorter than he ever recalled, but perhaps it was the perspective shift. Something in him had changed. He had changed. A brace of tails flowed behind his foe, swishing and shifting, counterbalancing motions and lunges that a normal opponent would have found impossible to follow.
“Who are you?” His foe snarled, the ornate, gold-hilted rapier in his paw singing as it sliced the air.
The question rang with authority, with the force of ages. At once, he saw visions of a hundred lives lived. Of swelling oceans. Dusty, dry hills, and bitter, icy cold. The rush of air. The bark of order. The scratch of a pen upon paper. Thunder and fire intermingled under a night sky. The laugh of companions, and the sharp pang of their loss, a bitter scream of guilt, grief and rage that threatened to overwhelm him.
The visions almost did. He deflected the next strike by mere inches,
“I am a teacher of ways! I guide the fledges on their paths!” The Lore Keeper clacked his beak as he fought the savage assault back, yet gained no ground despite his efforts. His foe seemed forever advancing, yet never did he back down.
“Yet it is not all you are!” Another flurry of blows, each coming closer and closer to making a breakthrough. It would be shameful to lose to a single unchanged, and yet his visage was familiar in an unnerving way. The Arvian fought back against the kitsune, snarling in defiance.
“I am a warrior! I fight to protect my clan!” The Arvian spat back, defiant.
“And yet you treat with foes! Learn their ways! Speak with words when they speak with steel!” The vulpine accused and came at him with another series that Isiat knew well, and blocked each with mechanical precision and training. Their blades clanged off each other like a metronome keeping time.
“I am a Lore Keeper!”
“Your clan mistrusts you! Whisper you are tainted with the teaching of your enemy! You ask questions when lessons are clear. Question wisdom when it is known to be wise! You would question the moons themselves could they answer! What say you? Do you deny it?”
The Arvian’s hackles bristled, as the Vulpine’s tails fanned, both signs of aggression, attempting to dominate the other’s presence with their own.
“I seek the truth! That the battles of my forebearers do not in turn become the battles my Fledges fight and die in!”
The blades clashed, muzzle and beak snarling on the two combatants as they locked eyes, mere inches apart.
“Who are you then?”
“I am Isiat!” the arvian snarled, shoving his foe backwards with a mighty push.
Silence reigned. Neither warrior moved for a long moment.
The vulpine sheathed his blade, nodding curtly with a wry grin.
“So you are. And see you don’t forget it either.”
Isiat awoke.
Some absolutely outstanding art by @Zinyawolf over on Twitter, who I had the pleasure of getting two commissions from late last year. She was an absolute treat to work with, despite having no clue what an Arvian was when I embarked on this project with her. I'd say the results speak for themselves! :D
This piece I love because it really emphasizes the sheer scale of the physical differences before and after the change, as well as the twin moons often mentioned in Arvian lore. I highly recommend her. Go check her other works out! Her following is small, but her quality and attention to detail really speaks volumes of her skills!
------------------------------------------------------------------
Blade and spear clashed with an almighty ringing of metal. The two combatants circled each other, neither able to gain the upper hand, nor able to find a weakness. Rapier and Pike glanced off each other, the blades unerringly precise in their motions. Each knew the other’s moves before they made them, and each knew the other’s strengths and weaknesses.
They were, after all, their own.
The black-pelted Arvian shrieked out from his curved beak, thrusting and lancing with his long pike. In his taloned hands, it was no bigger than a spear would have been for an ordinary man, but placed in the hands of an unchanged, it was a nearly 9-foot monster, with a blade that would have fit a Gladius upon its point.
“Battles of the mind are lost by indecision!”
His foe’s words seemed to come from all around, lacking a source despite how his vulpine muzzle moved. The male before him was shorter than he ever recalled, but perhaps it was the perspective shift. Something in him had changed. He had changed. A brace of tails flowed behind his foe, swishing and shifting, counterbalancing motions and lunges that a normal opponent would have found impossible to follow.
“Who are you?” His foe snarled, the ornate, gold-hilted rapier in his paw singing as it sliced the air.
The question rang with authority, with the force of ages. At once, he saw visions of a hundred lives lived. Of swelling oceans. Dusty, dry hills, and bitter, icy cold. The rush of air. The bark of order. The scratch of a pen upon paper. Thunder and fire intermingled under a night sky. The laugh of companions, and the sharp pang of their loss, a bitter scream of guilt, grief and rage that threatened to overwhelm him.
The visions almost did. He deflected the next strike by mere inches,
“I am a teacher of ways! I guide the fledges on their paths!” The Lore Keeper clacked his beak as he fought the savage assault back, yet gained no ground despite his efforts. His foe seemed forever advancing, yet never did he back down.
“Yet it is not all you are!” Another flurry of blows, each coming closer and closer to making a breakthrough. It would be shameful to lose to a single unchanged, and yet his visage was familiar in an unnerving way. The Arvian fought back against the kitsune, snarling in defiance.
“I am a warrior! I fight to protect my clan!” The Arvian spat back, defiant.
“And yet you treat with foes! Learn their ways! Speak with words when they speak with steel!” The vulpine accused and came at him with another series that Isiat knew well, and blocked each with mechanical precision and training. Their blades clanged off each other like a metronome keeping time.
“I am a Lore Keeper!”
“Your clan mistrusts you! Whisper you are tainted with the teaching of your enemy! You ask questions when lessons are clear. Question wisdom when it is known to be wise! You would question the moons themselves could they answer! What say you? Do you deny it?”
The Arvian’s hackles bristled, as the Vulpine’s tails fanned, both signs of aggression, attempting to dominate the other’s presence with their own.
“I seek the truth! That the battles of my forebearers do not in turn become the battles my Fledges fight and die in!”
The blades clashed, muzzle and beak snarling on the two combatants as they locked eyes, mere inches apart.
“Who are you then?”
“I am Isiat!” the arvian snarled, shoving his foe backwards with a mighty push.
Silence reigned. Neither warrior moved for a long moment.
The vulpine sheathed his blade, nodding curtly with a wry grin.
“So you are. And see you don’t forget it either.”
Isiat awoke.
1 year ago
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