Duty With Company [Kassan]

[Shouta]

6th of Winter, 512AV. The winter winds were harsh, yet the thick wool of his robe protected Shouta from it’s assault. Nyka was beginning to descend from twilit to shadowed. And Shouta was waiting outside the Sharp Blade Headquarters for his assigned partner for the night’s duties. He had been forced to cut his training short that day and return to aid an acolyte in the proper demonstration of a flying arm bar. He scowled and rolled his arm slowly. The damn man had no mercy with his demonstrations! Now he awaited the senior novice patiently. Kusarigama wrapped around his neck like some large amulet, Shouta watched the other monks conduct their business. Their humble, undyed robes were hardly a reflection of the majority of the monks as they blended well with the bloody stone of Nyka’s red walls. Shouta had found that most of the monks only loosely followed their tenets to the letter. Most were consumed with the competition of the four orders, or used their power to accomplish what they pleased. But he did not doubt their stoic sense of duty when it came to defending their city, or the honor of their pledged Alvina. Shouta knew that Uphis was the strongest of the Alvina, the boldest. That comforted him. The Bladelord would not shirk his people, but protect them from all dangers. He was the righteous fury for which they, the Devout of the Sharp Blade, all strove for. He was the perfection for which they trained. Sighing heavily, Shouta eyed the sun on the horizon. He hated being in a well traversed place when the change came. It drew so much attention from the commoners. These people were neither Ethaefal, nor even monks who would stare. What right did they have to judge him when they did not even follow their lord’s example. The novice monk shrugged the train of thought off, not wanting to upset himself. He began to search the street in front of the Headquarters for his partner, he should almost be back by now…

[Kassan]

It had been a long and slow few seasons. He had followed his duties to the latter, barely doing anything else, except to train, but thoughts had pressed hard on his mind. The Ivorn Order, and that man's final words... find them. Seek them out. He had gotten no further, unable to even consider what he must do. Uphis kept him here, and rightly so. His vows were not paper, to be discarded on a whim. But still. The Ivorn Order. There was so much to understand. He hurried his step, glaive moving around in its bindings. The air was cold. In all his time in Nyka, he had never gotten used to the Winters. Not since he had grown up on the streets of Yahebah. In Ekytol, the sun shined warm, not cold. Darkness folded in, as Kassan realised he was a little late. Meditation, had spun into thoughts of the Order, and what if anything he could possibly do. Finally, he came to the outside of the headquarters, knowing his night patrol partner would be there waiting. Shouta was an interesting character. An Ethaefal, and relatively new to the ranks. But Kassan did not judge. Since he had passed the trials, he was a monk, and he was worthy. That was all that mattered. And there he was. The man himself. When darkness reigned, Shouta was.... beautiful. There was not another word to describe the curled horns and youthful glow. "Lo there brother," he called, approaching, "my apologies for keeping you waiting. Let us go."

[Shouta]

“Lo there brother, my apologies for keeping you waiting. Let us go.” The words came from the left and Shouta spotted the monk Kassan approaching. He had seen the man before, a few times. Kassan carried his huge glaive with ease, signifying the strength in the man. They clearly had very different fighting styles, but all came together as one under the service of Uphis. Never had he worked with the ebon skinned warrior. Kassan had somewhat of a reputation for being diligent and strong, and kind. And Shouta saw it now, as the monk approached. Kassan had the face of a calm soul, the face of a man at peace with his beliefs. A face far from the one Shouta wore. Shouta raised a pale hand in return. “Nothing to worry yourself over.” He smiled, Kassan had a reputation as a devout monk, and that was to be respected over the pretenders that may lurk within their ranks. “I have not been waiting long.” He twirled the weighted end of his kusarigama slowly as he had Kassan began their rounds. The vibrant stone of Nyka was now morphing into a cooler grey with the moon now proud in the sky. Shouta gave the glowing orb a hesitant glance before returning his attention to his partner. Shouta was thoughtful as he watched Kassan. The human had only so many years left to live, and still he dedicated them to Uphis. Surely the perfecting of a combat was an ambitious goal, but the pursuit of perfection in that time limit was very…Brave? Or perhaps Kassan simply wished to serve the God of Blades. Tell truth, Shouta was not exactly sure why he was here, except that it felt like the most right, the most alive place for him. Perhaps he could gain some insight from this dark devout. “Kassan,” Shouta began tranquilly. “Are you from the city of Nyka? I mean Originally.” He said the words in a conversational tone, hoping the other would trust in the innocence of his pursuit. Truth be told, he was only after insight and guidance.

[Kassan]

A faint smile and bowed head thanked Shouta for his understanding. Both turned to begin their rounds, and Kassan couldn't help but glance at the weapon the Ethaefal toted. He looked at it in awe, truly. The glaive was a brutal weapon, and the need for strength in using it far outweighed the need for skill. A momentous swing could fell any opponent. However, Shouta's blade... it required dexterity and skill, especially if one didn't want to slice their own head off during battle. Their footsteps merged as they began to patrol the quarter, rounding the buildings, streets and alleys, eyes on the lookout for anything unusual. As they walked, he noticed Shouta glanced at him now and again, as if in study. Of course. In some ways, this would still be a foreign world to the Ethaefal. Kassan smiled at the question, shaking his head softly. "Skin so dark as this does not originate in Nyka. I come from the deserts. Yahebah. But it is a place I would rather not return to." He looked away briefly, poingnant memories stinging at his eyes. "I... I would ask of your origins, but I would come across as rude. I know little of your people, Shouta." And yet, he was curious.

[Shouta]

Yahebah, a land baked by the sun. Such a place was foreign and enchanting to Shouta. He had not been south of Syliras in all his years. Perhaps some day his path would lead him down to the sands of the south. So what brought such a man all the way north from his homeland? Perhaps he had been yanked from it, a feeling Shouta struggled to understand in himself. Or maybe Kassan had been drawn to Nyka? Before he could ask, the warrior turned to Shouta and caught his staring. He let his eyes drop to the street ahead, where people saw the two walking and hurried to enter their homes. Curfew was in effect. “Return to your homes! Curfew.” He let his voice ring out over the moonlit houses. “I… I would ask of your origins, but I would come across as rude. I know little of your people, Shouta.” Kassan said carefully. Shouta noticed the man intended no insult, nor to press him. If none was intended, Shouta had no reason to see insult in the query. He shrugged his robed shoulders. “In truth, I am not the ideal lecturer of such things. My faith in Uphis has cost me my place amongst my… people.” He scowled a bit at the mention of his kin. “They would not accept my views, but then again they are clouded in theirs.” The Ethaefal would call him Forsaken. A title reserved for only the lowest of all their kind. An epithet of shame, for those who had lost their faith. Shouta turned and gazed down an ally to hide the disconcertion on his face. Composing himself, he reiterated in his head that his faith was a hard choice, but the right one. “As for my origins, I was wakened from a coma off the coast of Syliras by a squire. He seemed a flustered sort, always fumbling and mumbling. But his knight was a strong and bold man. With both of them there to help, they brought me into the city and I was clothed and fed. And from there forced to find my own way.” Shouta remembered fondly the two who Sylirans who had rescued and guided him in those first few perilous months. He had no others who understood, none who knew what he was going through. And Leth remained silent to his cries. “They were good men, and taught me a few early lessons in the calming power of martial practice.” Kassan had listened quietly, and Shouta began to feel he was rambling, or at least what qualified as rambling for him. He stopped and waited for Kassan to respond.

[Kassan]

Shouta saw the pair before Kassan did, calling to them to remind them of curfew. Kassan merely nodded sternly, backing up his brother in arms. "We are your people now," he said in response. It was simple. Direct. Perhaps even brutal. But it was the truth. In some ways Kassan hated thinking on the Ivorn Order. It was a betrayal of sorts. "And you are right, about martial practise. The glaive... it was my legacy. And its motions are memetic within me, calming, and soothing. I have much to learn with my daggers too." He did not mention the taint that bleached one of his blades. The blood of an Iniomen that stained the metal, and gave it foul powers. That was something best kept to himself. "It is a good life. Serving under Him. I am glad you joined our ranks, Shouta. You are skilled in combat, from what I have heard." His smile was broken by the scuffing of footsteps nearby. "It is past curfew," he called, following the noise toward the adjoining street. His hand motioned to his throwing daggers - just in case.

[Shouta]

The monk’s sure words kept the doubt from Shouta’s mind for the time being. Perhaps more than blood could make someone belong. Uphis and his monks were one not by their bloodline, nor their cultures. It was the reverence of battle, and the appreciation of beauty that lies in combat that had drawn them here. Shouta could indeed find his place amongst such people. That honor was not something to scoff at. The monks of Nyka were a revered group of men, famous for their tenacity and strength of heart and mind. And he had been named one of them. Kassan’s elegant compliment made Shouta smile. The monk was very ingratiating, no wonder he had such a good reputation with the others. The Ethaefal was happy he had been paired with a man with dignity and bearing, rather than the more common brigand in robes. Their order was indeed a double sided coin… Shouta stopped and cocked his head to the side. Kassan had clearly heard it as well. A scuffle from the nearby street. Shouta flicked his wrist into the air and sent the weight of his kusarigama sailing around his head in the night. After a few swings he let the chain wrap around his arm, catching the crude fox head in his hand. “I have heard the same of you, Kassan. Perhaps tonight we will get to prove our reputations?” The edge in his voice was obvious. With so much time spent training, most monks awaited real combat eagerly. It made Nyka a city for only the bravest of criminals. Shouta slid forward against the wall of a nearby home, ready to attack if need be. His ruby eyes met those of Kassan and he nodded.

[Kassan]

Kassan smiled wanly in the moonlight. It painted his face in a slender fashion, and yet haunted at the same time. They had waxed lyrical long enough. His hand now wrapped around one of the daggers. The one stained with darkness, a remnant of the Iniomen's blood. He was poised to launch it at a moment's notice, as the two began to follow the outline of the wall, edging towards the movements. No human voice returned Kassan's demand, but he could hear something. As he closed in the sounds began to finally make sense. Slathering, the drip of blood from flesh. He moved quickly, standing in the entrance of the alleyway. It was a marrow dog. No mistaking. It looked up at them, hackles rising. "Be careful," he uttered, "they are drawn by rotting meat or dead flesh. And where there is one, there will often be others, lurking in the shadows." For now, the dog didn't move. Kassan eyed it, glancing between himself and Shouta, dagger still at the ready.

[Shouta]

The thing looked almost canine, but the spikes protruding from it’s low back hinted that it was more a monster, probably a thing of the Aperture, than a dog. Vicious fangs glistened with a sheen of saliva as the thing took a tentative step toward the monks. Behind it a man next to a cart of wagon wheels lay in a pool of blood. And more black tracks led from the corpse outward, there must be more than one. “A creature of the Aperture. Kassan, what do you think?” Shouta said, loosening the weight of his kusarigama, preparing the weapon for combat. He kept his voice mostly clear of nerves, though he was on edge. He had never faced one, but had heard stories of the vile wolf-like creatures commonly slinking out of the Aperture. Body like a scaled wolf, and the keen instinct of a seasoned predator. It was probably not alone. The Ethaefal raised his kama, glancing down the nearest alley. It was bad news any way you split it. Either there was a pack of monsters loose on the Quarter wreaking havoc, or there was a pack of monsters loose on the Quarter waiting to ambush the two monks. He hoped it was the latter. “I’m hoping you know more about this thing than I do, brother.”

[Kassan]

"I know little of fighting them," Kassan blasted coldly, "only that they are dangerous scavengers. The lowest of beasts, with no morals of their own. I have seen them eating other dead hounds before. That is the extent of their bloodlust." He changed his stance, ready to launch the dagger at a moments notice. "This dagger I hold in my hand. It is cursed. If I pierce the things flesh it will stun it for a few moments." His eyes fell on Shouta's own weapon. The man was skilled with it. He had seen the monk in training. "And then you strike." He gave Shouta only a moment to think, before he sidestepped, moved within a closer range and launched the darkness-stained dagger at the dog. It struck, and as the power of the Iniomen swept over it, he rushed over and grabbed the dagger back from its side. He moved away again and turned to his fellow monk. The time to strike was nigh.