Noshee
Noshee
Noshee was born and raised in the province of Destiny. On the outside, he had a normal upbringing. No one wondered who he was or what he did. He has a shy personality, which fits because his wife is a Legionnaire, a warrior with a command of a 1000 called a swarm. Her assertiveness fits like a puzzle to his shyness.
What Destinian Hartons don’t realize is the morning of Noshee’s life was filled with turmoil. His father is what they call a master, someone who teaches how to fight, duel, who doesn’t serve the Legion. In the Legion, the Warlord commands and sets training schedules and studies – philosophy, art, military tactics. Masters have traditionally served in the Legion, but it wasn’t a requirement.
Noshee’s father had served in the Legion during the Tribal Wars, but no one seems to know which of the seven provinces he served. Not even Noshee knows, and from early on, Noshee’s father had abstained him from asking. It probably had to do with the loss of his wings. But, again, no one was allowed to ask Noshee’s father how he lost them.
In the morning of Noshee’s life, he enrolled in his father’s school called a faith. Before there were Legions, faiths were schools where the art of fighting was taught. There was no real way to prove that a master was a true master. Masters challenged each other and passed stories of their victories, but even then many were folk tales than truth. Or when conflicts occurred and masters were called upon to lead, precursor to what we know as the Warlord today. As a result, a student had to have faith in the master, school and art.
Noshee’s father had a strict daily regiment of dueling practice, studies of philosophy, history, calligraphy, topped with chores to clean the faith, teaching new students, and maintaining accounting books of trades for the faith’s services. A small amount of work.
He was a good student, did as he was told, and became one of the top duelers in competitions around the seven provinces. But Noshee’s father wanted perfection. He chastised Noshee for the smallest mistake, forced him to train harder than any student in the faith.
Noshee had won every dueling event. How was that not perfect enough? What did he have to do to satisfy his father’s standards? Kill someone?
Noshee sulked as he flew from his father’s faith through the forest canopy. There was one more tournament before the rebirth, the end of the cycle. There, he would prove to his father just how skilled a dueler he was.
His specialty was dual broadswords. Noshee’s opponent wielded the gloved weapon, talons. Blades extended off the fingers and glimmered in the morning light. Both perched at opposite sides of a cage. The cage was about thirty wings in diameter, a sphere made out of thick barbed wire. Shredding of flesh was common in dueling bouts. But Noshee had a simple plan.
Cage door closed.
His opponent slid her hands into talons. He unsheathed dual broadswords from between his wings. Both hovered in the middle of the cage, just outside of each other’s range. Wings threw gusts of air, flicking his long blonde hair. Noshee’s opponent threw her wings back and lunged in. Her talons swiped from every angle. Thin gashes marred Noshee’s skin. Thoughts of his father scolding him clouded his mind.
Noshee roared, stunning his opponent. His right broadsword swung across. His opponent caught it. Her talon’s steel palm provided enough friction, preventing Noshee from freeing his sword. With the claws of his feet, Noshee grasped her thighs. But she was highly skilled. She kept her hold on the sword tight and swung her free talon down to free her leg.
However, she’d forgotten about Noshee’s second broadsword. His father’s stacking method of deception.
He plunged it up her gut. Her gurgling signaled her death.
Hartons all over the provinces were outraged at Noshee and his father’s faith. Students flocked from the faith by the droves, leaving Noshee’s father with no way of earning a living. Accidental deaths occur in dueling tournaments, but Hartons there on that day knew. Noshee had murder on his breath. They could smell it, rotten flesh.
Haunted with her face, Noshee gave up dueling. His shyness born out of that incident and became recluse. In that darkness, he’d found his true passion. Wolves.
Today, Noshee is a researcher with a specialty in wolf pack behavior and family hierarchy. He’d wished he’d found his passion earlier and that woman’s life could have been spared. He doubts his relationship with his father will ever be repaired. But at least he’s reopened his faith and has regained his stature as a renowned school of dueling.
