The Boar pt. I

''"Be firm of character young one and never deny your nature, when times are dire you will retreat to its embrace and if it has been made durable through use you will survive. Even as an infant you were obstinate of mind and strong of body. It is no wonder Elder Cetacea titled you 'The Boar'." - Elder Olm''

Index
The Boar pt. II - Ozoma Ashes and The Exaltation of Life

The Boar pt. III - XXX

Champions of Fire and Vine
A vehicle of muscle and slaughter, The Boar was a renowned fighter for his tribe who lived for the glory that came with proving superior in battle. While adrenaline and dominance was enough for the headstrong brute, the elders of his tribe, The Crimson Horde revered his service. Using him as a champion when disputes between tribes had to be settled in the ring, it was a rare encounter that they had to admit their wrongs.

The Boar was the first to be called when territorial rites of a sacred site and its surrounds came under debate between The Crimson Horde Tribe and The Goldthorn Tribe. Brambleflare Kraal had long been a mutual place for many neighbouring tribes to meet and do combat for entertainment, celebration and ritual. As such, it made the perfect place to settle who should own the area.

Stepping out from his tribe's cave within the arena on that fateful day, The Boar's skin, blessed and oiled by his tribe's shaman Elder Olm, reflected any sunlight that managed to pierce the dense canopy above Brambleflare Kraal. He was familiar with every champion that The Goldthorne Tribe had ever put forward and had bested each on multiple occasions. As confidence brimmed in his chest and boiled over like a hearty stew, he knew their fighting styles forwards and backwards. For every place he lacked in book smarts, he made up in volumes with an unmatched aptitude for the art of violence.

From the Goldthorn adobe, a young drow exited with an equally confident stride. He had never seen the young girl before, her age must have been previously too young to represent her tribe in battle. Dressed in tight black leathers, only the edges of her gear, gilded with Sheenvine could differentiate her onyx skin from that of her armour. She would seem in the eyes of most to be unarmed but The Boar's keen sense and knowledge of prey past told him that she had weapons strapped to the small of her back. Even now he assessed his surrounds. Searing gasses gushed from the ground and razor sharp weeds erupted nearby all throughout the arena and he estimated a dozen ways to use each to his advantage. When the horn was blown for the fight to begin, simultaneous to his own, her weapons came out. His flame tongued short swords blazed as they emerged from their sheaths. Spurring a charge towards her at high velocity, he expected her fine frame to topple as similarly shaped opponents had before.

Weapons clashed overhead but her ground was held firm. Both her sai and long hair, equally silver, reflected the fiery radiance of The Boar's swords. Even though his blades could manifest the heat that forged them within the lava of Mount Ozoma the thin yoko of her sai resisted the onslaught without breaking. At the flick of her wrists, her foreign weapons sent his blades from him out into the dirt. Exploiting in him equal parts shock and slow reaction speed, this vixen was able to raise her heel above her shoulders and plant it deep into the sternum of his chest. He caught the slightest of grins before  he found himself projected from his stance to collect dust with his shoulder blades. He had barely flinched before she was straddled over his chest, each of her needle tips of her pronged weapons releasing the lightest of trickles from his throat. As he looked up into her eyes, hungry and proud of her successful hunt he realised this had been one of the quickest fights he had ever experienced and the fastest he had ever been defeated. He wished for it to have lasted much longer, even if it meant suffering through its entirety.

Heart beating fiercely within each of their chests, she had taken in her fill of his momentary helplessness long before he had and stood to receive the shouts and praise of the the adoring crowd. Brambleflare Kraal's ownership had been decided and although a rare defeat like this would usually have The Boar licking his wounds with shame in his heart for days, he was too entranced in this woman's balance and speed not let alone her beauty. Like a valkyrie to his rescue, an angel of battle, she extended her hand to help him to his feet and in that moment, he forgot that just moments before she held his life at her mercy.

As beams of light struck the ground around her and cast shadows over her proud grinning visage, she introduced herself, words like honey steeped in an exotic accent to his ears.

"Layla Kashira. Get up. You look like a wounded fawn."

Elevated to his feet, he knew there wasn't much he wouldn't do to fight with her again especially if it meant lasting longer in euphoria.

Over the next few months he would visit her, and to his delight, she would visit him in return. They would train and spar regularly under the guise of 'mutually benefitting their clans' rather than admitting the immense pleasure of each other's company. She would test and trial him with her speed. Her ability to move like smoke was an inspiration and as he embraced her techniques, he was able to best her more frequently. Only a year had passed before he found himself relying on his dexterity as much as his brawn. She grew in her might too. As her muscles toned more and more, her strikes gained a power that could shatter bone without weapon. The Boar noted that as they invested time together, her cold visage warped into warmth on occasion as she allowed emotion into her interactions with him and seemingly, him alone.