The sun rises, a glowing orb as it claws up from the sea and breaks through the morning fog in the harbor. Huge merchant ships creek and groan as they sway back and forth in the blue waters. Two figures tread through the fog to a dirt circle that is bordered by wooden blocks.
“Get on the far side of the ring, we’ll do a quick spar to see where you stand.” Dimytri says as he gives his brother a light shove.
Corm makes a light jog to the said spot, eager to begin. The sixteen-year-old turns on his heel to face his older brother and raises his fists in front of his face defensively. His legs spread out, his feet are flat on the ground. Dimytri sighs and walks over to Cormick. The older boy grabs Corm’s wrists and jerks his fists down a few inches away from the base of his chin. Dimytri kicks at Corm’s heels to spread out his legs further, “On your toes. Speed will be your advantage over everyone else. Staying on your toes will help you move faster and react to attacks.”
Dimytri backs several feet away from his brother before entering his own fighting stance. “You want to be balanced during a fight, ready to defend yourself or strike at a moments notice. For example...” As the last word leaves his lips, Dimytri pulls back his clenched fist and jumps toward his brother. The fist slams into Corm’s stomach.
“Gaah! You ass, I wasn’t ready!” Corm looks at his brother, gasping for air.
“First mistake. If someone is looking to beat your face in, or worse, they won’t wait for you to be ready.” Dimytri grunts as he swings another fist towards Cormick’s jaw.
This time, Corm ducks down and the fist sails over his head. He closes his own hand and slams it into Dimytri’s unprotected stomach.
Tightening his stomach for the blow, Dimytri merely grunts. “Good! Now keep it up. Dodge and hit, dodge and hit.” He repeats the words as he breaths in heavily, his elbow already making it’s way down into Corm’s head.
Corm stumbles forward into his brother, his vision blurry from the hit. To recover, he clumsily slams the heel of his boot into the ground, attempting to steady himself.
Both boys suddenly stop their struggle as they hear a loud crack. Cormick looks up to see his brother in a fit of pain before his brother grabs him beneath the arms and throws him through the air toward the edges of the ring, “Fuck! I think you broke it.” Dimytri falls into the dirt as he carefully turns his heel in his hands, wincing in pain and groaning as he does. He swings his hands back and leans on them, disbelief on his face. “I can’t believe you did that. I could tell it was a mistake, but still.” The injured boy laughs, “We’ll have to learn to build off that mistake. As for now, we need to find someone to fix my ankle. Help me up, we need a paladin or priest.”
Cormick rolls forward onto his feet, his arms out in front of him for balance. As he stands up, he brushes the dirt off his clothes before quickly walking over to his brother and extending his arm. Corm grins, “Damn good mistake, I think. How bad is it broken?”
Dimytri grasps Corm’s forearm tightly and pulls himself onto his good foot. “Bad enough. You got lucky, c’mon lets go.” Corm and his brother make their way up the steep stone slopes of Stormwind Harbor and into the canals of the city. Taking a left at the split between the Park and Cathedral Districts, the brothers continue into the golden-yellow roofed district that houses the city’s Cathedral. The two boys stop at the base of the long flight of steep stairs leading up to the giant church. “What the hell is with this city and steep steps?” Dimytri groans as his younger brother leads him up the stairs covered in a rich blue carpet with golden trim.
“Shut up and use your good foot. I feel like I’m dragging you up these steps.” Corm grins before adding, “I fear I may lose my grip and drop you.”
