The Firstlings

Aaron rubbed his sore chest as he picked himself up.

His wound had healed, but the area was still tender to the touch. Glaring at the bear of a man before him, he growled, “Why are we even doing this?”

“How can you handle a blade if you can’t even handle your fists?” Foster barked back, chuckling at Aaron’s discomfort.

Foster was teaching him hand-to-hand combat to help give him what he called a ‘Foundation’. Aaron was pretty sure the guy just liked punching him. No matter how fast or deceptive Aaron moved, Foster would always win.

The guy was huge, standing nearly seven feet tall with dark brown fur and hands the size of boulders. But he moved with the grace of a dancer, and if Aaron got too close, he would just rush forward and grab him in a bear hug, which usually ended with Aaron on the ground, unable to breathe, and Foster laughing boisterously.

He was a true terror.

The battle lust surrounding Foster was the aura of a predator, and he didn’t go lightly on him, saying that Aaron wasn’t a normal person and needed to be pushed to greater heights. Yeah... this guy was definitely trying to kill him.

“You’ve been practicing, and it’s showing, but being faster won't solve your problems,” he barked. “The most common Insights are of the Body, being easy to learn but difficult to master. Those you will face will have solid foundations, and you won’t last a second.”

“I'm telling you, the manuals are wrong,” Aaron grumbled. “They don’t match me; I told you from the beginning that I can feel how empty the movements are.”

“Then fix it.” Foster shrugged.

Aaron stared at him in irritation. ‘How the hell was he supposed to do that?’

“The manuals are exercises to build your Foundation but are fluid and can be adapted.” Foster explained, chuckling at his frustration.

He had been practicing a set of exercises consisting of various movements and repetitions. Foster told him they had discovered the manuals from some monks that once existed and used them to gain Insights into the Body and build what he called a Foundation. He quickly realized they were flawed, mostly because he wasn't human, so they felt… wrong.

“We’ll stop here for today,” Foster declared. “Keep practicing the movements and perfecting them; shape them into your own style and claim them.”

“Can’t we just move to weapons already?” Aaron hissed in annoyance.

“Trying to run before you can walk, young fledgling!” Foster’s laughter rolled through the forest as he turned to leave. “Just try to figure it out; try to feel it.”

Aaron agreed, watching him walk from their encampment toward the City. Foster still had the Hunters Guild to run and could only give him so much of his time. He was grateful for the training but was also antsy to feel like he was getting somewhere.

He looked over the encampment at his siblings, going about their work with dedication, hope for the future shining in their eyes, and excitement in their steps. They had all taken different training routines based on their interests and particular Insights.

Most had taken to the rangers and had become interested in hunting and tracking. Cornelius and his gang were working with the Academy, attempting to learn more about Runic magic and the history of the Dawn. Kaznor, the Head of the Academy, occasionally showed his face and seemed to take well to Cornelius as the two were constantly arguing.

Some of his siblings had taken to cultivating plants, especially the mushrooms from the Labyrinth, headed by his sister, Nara. She was slightly different when compared to his other siblings. She had the brightest green hair, with vines and leaves woven in their lustrous strands, and… usually was seen talking to plants.

There were even those who took an interest in the earth and stones. He couldn’t understand why they would be so interested in dirt and stones. ‘They were just rocks!' But then, thinking about his Rock with a pain of longing in his chest, he shook his head fiercely. ‘That was different!’

He returned to his post near the back of their encampment and sat atop a ledge on the cliffside, overlooking the forest. He could feel more dangerous things lurking there and even hear their howls at night. The cliffside was the only thing that protected their small encampment from the threat behind those howls.

He sighed, thinking of the City and the riots they had witnessed on their arrival. It had been almost a week since they arrived; the immediate danger had been averted, but tensions were still high, and he swore you could see it leaking into the air in tangible form.

There were whispers of the Witch of Lightcastle and her alluring song. They called her the ‘Mother of Song,’ bringing tears to Ciel’s eyes and putting a bright smile on her face. Not long after his sister's call of a Siren, General Briant swept in with his forces and disbanded the rioters. He hadn’t seen Karla much, as she had held a funeral after losing a loved one and was busy trying to run the City.

There was also some commotion within the upper ranks when Bently declared his loyalty to Aaron and resigned from his duty. There were talks of mutiny and traitor, some pressing for charges against him. Aaron had tried to tell the man it wasn’t necessary, but he refused and was resolute in his decision.

Shaking off his reverie, he pulled out the manual Foster had given him. It contained a set of exercises that felt the best fit for him, but he still couldn’t figure them out. The academy made some anatomy books readily available, so Aaron scoured through them, trying to understand muscle structure and basic anatomy. It helped tremendously in his form, but he still couldn't make a breakthrough.

Rising, he turned from the ledge and walked to a small clearing in the forest. Taking steady breaths, he raised his arms, crossed in a V shape above his head, and slowly lowered them to his side, feeling the discordance in the movement. He continued to go through the motions, searching for the cause with intense concentration.

He planted his feet as he punched forward, exhaling deeply, then launched into a rhythm of jabs, blocks, and feints, using every muscle he had in intricate ways. He trembled, grunting in irritation as he still felt the same resistance while performing the motions. The exercises were about the subtleties in the movements and building muscle memory.

The twisting of a hip or the planting of a foot were all parts of a greater whole, designed to hone him into the perfect weapon. He continued the exercise, searching for the discordance and making subtle changes to find a sense of harmony. As he spun around, going through the final repetition, he almost tripped on his tail.

His Tail!

‘I’m an idiot,’ he face-palmed, shaking his head at his own stupidity. He always forgot about his tail, as he could barely move it, and the thing seemed to serve no purpose. Thinking of Foster, he groaned in annoyance. The guy was a Beast-folk and had to have known about the issue but failed to mention it. He was always cryptic and wouldn’t walk Aaron through anything, preferring to let him figure it out himself.

Closing his eyes, inhaling deeply, and feeling his center of gravity from the tip of his tail to the top of his head, he began to go through the motions again. But this time, he felt power ripple through his muscles, and every cell in his body vibrated excitedly. He made slight adjustments to his movements to account for his tail, and small changes in the placement of his feet and his center of bearing, brought about a subtle shift in his rhythm.

He laughed, his heart racing from the thrill, as his movements achieved balance and harmony.

[New Skill Available]

Deadly Hands

“With Harmony comes Hurt.”