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Center of scholarly knowledge and shipwrighting, Zeltiva is a port city unlike any other in Mizahar. [Lore]

Swords in the Stone [Markus]

Postby Ayatah on August 26th, 2014, 2:15 pm

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Swords in the Stone

|| 21st Summer, 514AV || Outside the Narvaen Stables || Midday


Her muscles were already aching, which both disgraced and embarrassed Ayatah.

Have I been out of the jungle for so long?

The answer was of course, yes. But the half-Eypharian, with arrogance so similar to that of her paternal race, had assumed that her absence from Taloba would not negatively impact on her fitness levels. She had gained very little weight since residing in Zeltiva (as a child Aya had heard horror stories of great warriors returning to Myri's kingdom with fat bellies having spent all their time outside the jungle eating and sitting), though it was clear now that simply not getting fat was not enough to upkeep a Myrian-level of fitness.

Ayatah breathed heavily and stretched her arms, holding one at her hip and lifting the other up over her head, reaching for the sky. The stretch pulled at her waistline, and the half-Eypharian grunted appreciatively. She allowed herself another two chimes of stretches and resting, before she picked up the two double-bladed daggers once more.

The Eypharian people apparently specialised in dual wielding, and it was with some guilt that Ayatah had decided to learn the same skill. The Myrian people were strong and brutish in their fighting styles; something Ayatah, with her long limbs and slender frame, could not compete against. But speed, and agility, were both in her favour.

Unfortunately, Aya was not quite a master of dual wielding yet. Should someone be observing her, they would undoubtedly notice the unsure way she held herself, how her left hand was a good two or three ticks behind the right. Her actions were far from the smooth, mirrored movements that the Eypharians were renown for.

Her feet were positioned at shoulder width, and Ayatah stood at a slight angle from her imaginary enemy. She held both daggers in a reverse-facing position, and with deft little footsteps she shifted herself forwards and to the right. Her right hand jabbed forwards - quickly followed by her left, which arced out in a clumsy swing. Even the slowest of enemies (real or imaginary) could have easily avoided the attack.

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Last edited by Ayatah on September 4th, 2014, 1:25 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Ayatah
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Swords in the Stone [Markus]

Postby Markus Andres on August 29th, 2014, 7:55 pm

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Markus wished he was in Syliras. Longed for the fortress walls that he knew intimately. Every nook and cranny, the familiar walk from his apartment to the training grounds. The people he knew, the friends and comrades he fought along on the constant battle against encroaching wilderness and chaos. Instead he was surrounded by dishonourable merchants and rowdy sailors who knew nothing about truth and justice. The fact that these men had let his family be taken added fuel to his already sour mood. That he couldn't really train like he used to, spent excess energy training against the best of the best Syliras had to offer was also a constant thorn in his side. His family's disappearance and probably enslavement left him constantly angry, only S'Essy drew him out of the mood for brief moments, but even that did not last long before he slumped back into the anger. But even his family's enslavement wasn't what had him constantly on edge, he could live with that knowing he made progress somehow, but every day was the same wait for a ship for Sunberth. Inactivity and inaction that drove him mad. He knew he could do nothing but hope the ships would soon sail for Sunberth again. That the harbour would be repaired. It drove him mad. He lacked the patience that his master often berated him for, but even stronger knights would have felt like an animal caged by fate. Circling until they saw a glimmer of escape.

Markus left the comfort of his room. There was a brief wave to the other occupant before he marched away from the Grotto. Peacekeeper strapped to his left hip. Smaller cousin strapped on the other hip, he had foregone the shield for his walk. He needed air. He needed privacy~ that or the company of someone else. He did not entertain those thoughts long as his gaze turned to the ocean. Which only served to anger him further and feel his efforts were futile. Wasting his time every day going to the harbour and seeing the progress made in the repairs. Barely any progress, but he was not a builder nor a labourer, so he would not know what constituted progress when repairing a harbour. It became painfully obvious that the repairs had not progressed far enough for Markus' needs. A single glance back at his room and he sighed and continued away through the city he had once called home. The knight wore simple clothes, a white cotton tunic which were a stark contrast to the black trousers. Though the gaze of Syna could soon demand he dropped the tunic and opted for something lighter.

Markus walked through the city. Hoping that somewhere someone was engaging in a brawl he could jump into and find relief for some of the pent up tensions. But there was no such luck on the path he had chosen. Even as he made it through most of the city and reached the outskirts he began to circle the outer areas of the city. Slowly made his way around. Just as he was about to give up and find a bar to drown his anger in, he saw a woman. Attractive by normal standards, although Markus held no interest in that aspect. It was the movements she made that drew him to cease moving. Left shoulder bumped lightly against a wall as the pair of daggers. Markus had through his training of several squires learnt to notice specific patterns. When the body did not work with itself, when motions became rigid. The left-handed strikes almost an afterthought. Despite that, he was amazed by the speed and precision in her right handed strikes. Plus a double-bladed dagger was something he so rarely saw that that alone was an interesting spectacle to behold. Silent observing the woman for several long ticks as she struck the imaginary foes. Their bodies were almost opposites, he was tall and held a massive frame, the woman was slender, but he saw the toned muscles.

His right hand tapped his chin ever so gently. The stubble made him realize he had forgotten to shave. Which meant he looked far more rugged than his usual clean shaven and bathed self. He wasn't particularly bothered by that aspect as he approached the woman. Perhaps he might find a temporary reprieve from his own anger if he engaged in something he truly enjoyed.

"Keep at it, miss, few more years and you can hit a sleeping opponent with that mean left swing." There was a hint of his usual humour under the barely hidden anger. Mainly it was intrigue that the knight's tone held.
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Swords in the Stone [Markus]

Postby Ayatah on October 9th, 2014, 10:12 am

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Ayatah grumbled at herself. Those slower, poorly calculated left-hand strikes were failing to improve, despite her seemingly countless days of practising. Yet dual-wielding was technically part of her heritage - the Eypharian part, of course. The multiple-armed people were apparently specialised in that form of weaponry, yet right now Aya found it impossible to imagine ever being anything more than clumsy and inaccurate.

She stopped, rolled her shoulders in their sockets to loosen her joints and free her muscles of the aches, and then started again. This time, her chosen target was not the empty air, but instead a drunken-looking tree that slouched slightly to the left. Once again, she began to punch her daggers forwards, in both forward- and reverse-facing stabs. Her wrists twisted dexterously between the two holds, but still her left hand seemed awkward and off target.

Her left thumb twitched, just before hot hand cramp soared through her nerves. Ayatah dropped the dagger and swore, loudly, in Myrian.

She was so busy complaining, in fact, that Ayatah did not realise that she was being watched. It was not until a voice, a male, spoke to her that she jumped and span around. Her gnosis mark, at the back of her neck and revealed by her tied up hair, pulsated rapidly. It took a chime for her to realise what the male had said, at which point she gave a strange half-smile. "I think I'd have more luck striking a dead man. A sleeping one might roll over."

She stooped down to gather up her dropped dagger, which she sheathed at her hip alongside its twin. Starting conversation with strangers was a quick way to die in the jungle, but Ayatah had learnt over time that it was quite the norm in Zeltiva. Taking long strides, she approached the mysterious stranger with an extended hand. "I am Ayatah, of the Scattered Bones." She observed him, a single eyebrow quirked, "few people are willing to start a conversation with a Myrian."

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Swords in the Stone [Markus]

Postby Markus Andres on November 8th, 2014, 2:00 pm

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Emerald eyes saw the edge of a mark on her neck before the woman spun around to face him. It seemed to have been pulsating. It reminded him of Rachel's mark, but this had looked much different than her mark from Priskil. More like a swirl of sorts. He pushed it from his mind for now and focused on the woman before him. He had actually managed to sneak up on her, which, considering his size, was quite a feat for the young sergeant. Certainly not something he had imagined he'd be able to if the woman hadn't been utterly devoted to her training. It had happened to him more often than he'd liked. Practised a particular attack pattern when out of nowhere his master had pummelled him to the ground and spouted something about vigilance. He was not Mason and he would not reprimand this woman for her lack of awareness. The half smile caught him off guard however. She had more restraint than he would have assumed she'd have. What he could see of her ears showed the piercings. Peculiar ones. He had never been a big fan of piercings, but they didn't detract from the beauty of women as much as it had when he'd been younger. But these seemed more primitive than the jewellery he most often saw.

"Ah, a clever opponent. At least they do not strike back when you miss." He rationalized as she approached him. His right hand came out to shake hers in a firm shake. The name given. Not the first name, the clan name. A few cultures and races did that, but the name did not remind of the blasted tents of the slave-riders south of Syliras. Her name seemed more inclined with the myrians, although he knew relatively little of the race or their culture. A tick or two later she confirmed the rising suspicion with a raised brow and admission of her heritage. That admission came with a near automatic boost in respect she got from the knight. Myrians were a race of capable warriors. Brutal perhaps, but so was the knight in combat. Respect or not, he could not help adding another playful jab to their banter.

"Well, seeing that I am neither sleeping nor dead, I figured I'd be safe in your presence." A smirk cracked his lips. "Name is Markus Andres, Syliran sergeant knight, a pleasure meeting you Ayatah of the scattered bones. I take it the mark I briefly glimpsed on your back is the mark of Myri?" He gestured with the other hand as he released hers from the handshake.

"I take the training isn't going well?"
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Swords in the Stone [Markus]

Postby Keene Ward on April 5th, 2015, 4:14 am

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Grades



“For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.”
-Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene

Ayatah

Skills
    Double Bladed Dagger +1
    Socialization +1
    Rhetoric +1
    Acrobatics +2
    Dual Wielding +2
    Endurance +1

Lores
    None

Rewards/Consequences
None


Notes
If you have any questions or concerns, please send me a PM!


Markus

Skills
    Land Navigation +1
    Rhetoric +2
    Socialization +2
    Stealth +1
    Investigation +1

Lores
    The Appearance of Myri's Mark

Rewards/Consequences
None


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Notes
If you have any questions or concerns, please send me a PM!

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