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Not found on any map, Endrykas is a large migrating tent city wherein the horseclans of Cyphrus gather to trade and exchange information. [Lore]

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Come One, Come All (Ashka)

Postby Konrad Venger on April 4th, 2017, 10:30 am

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15th Bell - 23rd Day of Spring, 517AV - Pridesun Pavilion


"Ruros' Balls, I should start petchin' chargin' f'this..."

The Drykas just gawped at the scarred man, watching him scratch around the road map of puckered tissue and torn flesh, comprehending maybe half of what he said. Konrad glanced at his face, noted his incomprehension, and rolled his eyes.

Pavi, remember? Got to stick with that around these people.

"Said maybe I should ask people to pay," he repeated in lilting Pavi, the young Horse Lord who'd fetched him nodding eventually in agreement. "Thank you for get me."

Rakesh signed that it was "no problem", and Konrad believed him. There wasn't much for the Pridesuns to do nowadays, other than scrape out a living and stare into the distance, still mourning their prophet and ankal Jonas. Konrad's spat to the side a the mere thought of the man.

Good sodding riddance, he thought, stretching his sore body and taking in the sight of the flame-haired woman whose presence had dragged him from both his tent and his afternoon nap. Useless, lying prick.

He forced the man from his mind and focused on the here and now... or, in this case, the standing and waiting. He didn't have to think too long to put a face to the name, or at least a memory to the face. The girl with the red hair and fierce eyes - hells, didn't they all have those here? - had shown herself to have some small skill with a blade when they'd ventured into that blasted crater to the far south. Even now Konrad felt a quick shiver chase up his spine and then vanish. A sore night, that one.

"Lad say you want spar," he said in his usual halting Pavi, gesturing at the Drykas boy who was already moving off to do... something else. "Say looking for walahk with scars."

Konrad snorted with amusement and took off his wide-brimmed hat, as a gentleman would for a fine lady he passed on the street... only this time, it was to give her an unblemished view of what his father had done to him nigh-on thirty years before. How the gladius had rent and tore and gouged and unsteady hands had only barely sewn the damage together.

Yet still, he smiled. He smirked. He scorned the world and her, it seemed, just by living. Like it was mocking all creation for not having the balls to kill him and make it stick, damnit.

"Well. That sound like me."

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Note: As of Fall 517AV, Konrad is known only as "Hansel" in Endrykas
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Come One, Come All (Ashka)

Postby Ashka Windrunner on April 5th, 2017, 1:07 pm

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Ashka had sneaked out of sight from her uncle after her chores at the Thunderherd Pavilion were done. She had the afternoon free to do whatever she liked, and had decided to fill it with training. Not the usual rides she enjoyed so much, but a more hands-on practice. Toril would be pleased to know she worked on new skills, though probably less so if he knew where she was seeking her training partner. After last Winter's ending, many despised the Pridesun Pavilion, holding its former leader responsible for the blood that stained Semele's skin that night. Many Drykas were wary of those who took arms against Zulrav's children, and the Windrunner's Ankal was, understandably, one of them.

But the Pridesun's Pavilion was where the man was.

She remembered how expertly he used that odd sword of his during their venture in Stardown. The trigger to Ashka's visit, though, were the rumors she heard; a word from Melen's brothers informed her that a scarred walahk wearing a black hat could be found around the Warstorm or Pridesun Pavilion, teaching combat skills and sparring with anyone willing to challenge him. She knew without a doubt it was the same man. Ashka had never been much of a fighter, but after the patrol into the crater and, more recently, watching the Triathlon's participants fiercely challenging each other, she realised it was time to learn.

She had hopped on Lako's back and trotted her way to the Topaz wing of Endrykas. Hansel – as she learned the walahk was called – had not been hard to find; mentions of a tall, parched-face stranger and his broad-rimmed hat led her to Rakesh, who then brought her to the man in question.

The Drykas felt a shudder tremble down her spine when he revealed his ravaged flesh. She pinched her lips tight to repress a frown. Now was not the moment to be intimidated. The ruined face was an ugly sight to take in, but instead of showing fear she focused on the reason that brought her here.

Yes, her hands replied at his comment. "I need some practice." Fight, weapon.

Pavi came to her before she realised she could take the opportunity to practice her hesitant common speech. With an uncertain tongue, the accent of her native language still lingering heavily on its tip, the red-haired girl continued, hands absently signing the equivalent Pavi words.

"They say you can weapon. You can fight good. Can you teach me ? Training ?"
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Come One, Come All (Ashka)

Postby Konrad Venger on April 5th, 2017, 3:50 pm

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Still need to learn those bloody hand signs.

Konrad listened with something that could have been curiosity on his face. Then again, it could have been constipation. A life of eating whatever you hunted was good in theory, but he had a feeling he hadn't been getting enough of the green stuff. As the redhead spoke, his hands seemed to work their own will, magically turning up a gnarled old wooden pipe and a pouch of baccy from inside the flap of his tent.

"All I got from dat was 'fight' an' 'weapon', love," he said, focusing briefly on packing the bowel with foul-smelling Plains Weed. "An' I don' see any a' the first on ya... save the obvious, a' course."

Bow and quiver. Konrad was sure that every Drykas came out of the womb clutching them in each hand. More than that, they could probably core apples with them at ten paces by the time they could walk, and yet he'd rarely seen skill with a blade in them. Oh, the Watch didn't really count: they were soldiers, after all, it was to be expected. But the regular, ordinary Drykas, all hunters and riders and trackers... take away their bows and horses, and as far as Konrad could see, they were helpless.

So it was with a sigh that he noticed no other instrument of death hanging from the girl's belt. Just that damn bow.

"Teach you?" He said, words a little garbled by the pipe stem between his teeth. "Teach youse wi' what? Y'ain't godda weapon."

His eyes didn't close, but Ashka would have seen his eyes glaze over for a moment. As if concentrating on something beyond the grass and dirt between them, looking inward as he pooled his res from within him, dammed and directed the flow up his torso, down his arm, into his hand-

Snap

-his fingers snapped, but when they were still again, flame sprouted from the tip of his thumb. It was a simple enough trick, or so it was now: a season or two ago, he'd dare not have tried it for fear of setting his whole hand on fire.

"Not mind spar. Not mind teach." He spoke as he lowered his thumb to the bowl, sucking between words to stoke the crackling little pile of dried leaves within. "But mind have good... enemy. Must make challenge for me."

Konrad sucked deep and drew a lungful of the acrid, sizzling smoke into him. He reared back on his haunches, all he owned scattered around him or behind him, on the ground or in the tent, and yet he regarded the girl as if he was a king entreating some distant ambassador.

You know how to shoot, girl, I'll give you that, he thought behind his cold eyes, remembering her skill that cold night. But that don't mean shyke up close.

The mercenary shrugged and exhaled, ribbons of grey smoke wafting and curling from his malformed lips until they reached the open sky, and vanished. Behind them and through them was his stare, waiting for an answer... or perhaps a reason to continue talking.

"So what you spar with? What you good with? Why I give you my time?"

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Come One, Come All (Ashka)

Postby Ashka Windrunner on April 11th, 2017, 5:06 pm

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The Drykas felt her body tighten under Hansel's eye. He was gauging her, and visibly not too satisfied with what he saw. As he spoke, Ashka had to focus all she could to decipher the words, deformed by a drawling accent. What weapon ? Of course, she had been worrying so much about whether or not he would agree to spar that she forgot to specify which weapon she brought to the fight.

Still facing the walahk, her right hand reached behind her back and pulled out from the belt a blade a few inches long. It was a simple hunting knife, similar to what most people used around Endrykas, but well able to cut through guts and throats. A light blush rose to her cheeks, and the girl tried ignoring it. She realised she was probably looking ridiculous, with her ersatz of a dagger. She didn't even have a real weapon, yet was so eager to learn that she brought the best she could find.

"This. Now I have this, soon I buy better weapon. But for now, I can train with knife." Determined, she showed her makeshift weapon to the tall, scary-looking man. He didn't pay much attention to her, concentrating instead on his smelly wooden pipe. His gaze seemed to wander towards the Sea behind her, and for half a chime she wondered if he was listening at all.

When his fingers snapped, she could not believe her eyes.
A flame, dancing at the tip of his thumb, and in front of the bewildered Drykas. How ? How was this happening ? Did he really create fire, with a simple click of the fingers, or was it just a trick of the mind ?

Ashka lost her speech for a short moment, amazed of what she saw; but her typical curiosity did not leave her mute for too long. She barely heard his last words, his voice asking for a challenge, a reason to spare time for her. Her own mind demanded to know more on what she had witnessed.

"What... How... did you do that ? The fire... Your hand on fire !" Words struggled to come out, with her uncertain Common but interrogations swirled in her head and out of her mouth. "You make fire... Flame ? Is magic ? How ?"

She had heard the rumours about this ability before, but had considered them just that, rumours. Now that she witnessed it by herself, her eagerness to learn and swiftness to ask questions had sparked. She would not leave him in peace without a few answers.

"We can spar with blades. Or practice... This. What you do. What you call it ?" Gaze focused and resolute, she pointed at his pipe while her other hand still held the knife. The rush of her tone was only a glimpse of the girl's stubbornness. Hansel, may he like it or not, had found his most tenacious student.
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Come One, Come All (Ashka)

Postby Konrad Venger on April 11th, 2017, 7:09 pm

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"Not a blade. Bloody toothpick."

Fine, so perhaps he was being a little harsh there, but Konrad was in no mood to doling out compliments. He knew better than most in this city that a few inches of sharp steel was all you needed to end even the largest man, but hedging you bets with a few feet of it was always the smarter move. And what did this girl have? The latter. And not even a particularly sharp example of it.

Of course, her eagerness to spar was soon eclipsed by her babble of questions about the flame conjured from his fingers. Konrad allowed a slow smirk to crease the unblemished side of his face, the other just contorting even more like it always did when he grimaced or smiled. It was always hard to tell on that side.

"Cannae teach yeh that stuff, girl," he drawled in Common, before remembered whom he was talking to. "Not teach magic. Not this magic. Can teach sword or fists or knife, but not magic."

He made a note to find out what the word for "initiation" was in Pavi, first as an idle thought... and then, with a quick quirk of his eyebrows, as a possible source of income. Three hundred gold mizas, that was how much Torvin had charged him for his initiation into Reimancy. Seemed like a good deal, and he could offer the same to people.

The sellsword stroked his chin and exhaled a cloud of sizzling grey smoke into the air between them. It was all about the mizas, after all. He sold what he had available, and magic was just one more asset nowadays. Then a hand was thrust towards him and he remembered, oh yes, there was a girl still here, and he rolled his eyes, standing to his full, towering height with the pipe smoking between his teeth.

"Rei-man-cee," he said in slow Pavi, hoping he'd chosen the right sounds. "Is thing, is magic, and no, I do not teach. I teach with weapon like that-" he nodded at the knife she held and smirked again "-but with real weapon, not toothpick."

Mocking he may have been, but Konrad didn't see any glimmer of retreat in the girl's eyes. Oh, there may have been resentment and indignation and anger, sure, but that was all part of the game when people spoke to him... or rather, what he spoke to them. But there was nothing in her bearing that told him she was would back away, that she would give up and scuttle away after a few insults from the bawdy, brutish walahk.

She wants to learn. She'd driven by it. Even if it means talking to someone like you.

The walahk sighed and scratched behind his head, swiveling his gaze from her eyes to his feet and to the sky, before sighing a second time into Syna's rays and nodding.

"Okay. I teach, because you still here. Come."

He'd lead her across the crunching grass and foot- and horse-churned dirt into the area behind his tent. The flow and flurry of the Pridesuns was still within easy reach, but at least there they had time more room to work with.

"Now," Konrad said, taking one last deep pull on his pipe and tapping it out upside down against his palm. A shower of sizzling, glittering sparks went cascading down at his feet as he spoke. "We start. See what you know."

He pocketed the pipe and when his hand came back up, it was with the hiss of steel on leather, and he was holding a strange, curved blade that was... considerably larger than the one Ashka held.

"Best learn is to do," he said matter-of-factly, shrugging briefly whether or not her expression was one of fear, concern or just the same, frowning determination. "So see what you do, if man come at you like-"

He finished with the blade, not with his words. He stepped forward and swung the kukri diagonally at her right side at half-speed. Hardly a killing blow, but she'd feel it rattle her up if she blocked it. If she managed that, he'd swing his left boot up a half-tick later and ding her right shin with it. A stinging blow, but again, enough to make it real.

If she avoided him entirely, he'd come on again with a backhanded swing, forcing her back and back until she had to engage... however that might be.

That's the thing with amateurs, he reminded himself as his body started moving into that familiar, fluid movement of combat and death. They don't know shyke, so they're hard to predict. "Shyke" covers a lot of petching ground....

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Come One, Come All (Ashka)

Postby Ashka Windrunner on April 12th, 2017, 6:57 pm

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A slight frown joined her eyebrows. Of course, she could have felt offended by his mocking comments on her poor choice of weapon, but the Drykas knew that he was somewhat right; the knife was not of the best quality, and not designed for close-up fighting. In a real combat, she wouldn't fare so well. However, those considerations didn't put a halt to her willingness to learn.

Not magic, though. The walahk gave her a name, but he would not give her a lesson.

"Rei-mann-cee. Fire magic." She repeated the word, engraving it in her memory, hopeful to one day find somebody who would teach her, since he refused to give out more informations. Maybe Diera could tell her a thing or two about this reimancy thing.... She made a mental note to visit her in the next few days.

The redhead girl stood still, like rooted into the ground, as he spoke condescendingly. She silenced the angry voices that wanted to answer back his mocking, and kept her face composed. The walahk could laugh at her all he wanted, but she wasn't leaving before they sparred. The fire in her grey eyes was the only concealement of the annoyance he provoked.

"A small blade can cause big troubles. I have seen it happening, and I'm sure you have as well." she said, mechanically switching back to Pavi. Her tone was almost even, if only a bit sharp.

Be it for her stubbornness or to be rid of her sooner, the man finally sighed and gave in to her request. Playing geht voune could be useful sometimes. Relief and excitement shaped her posture, and the beginning of a smile even curled up the corners of her lips, bringing out the dimple on her cheek. With the prospect of sparring against this man, the girl should have been on her guard; she knew he had no reasons to go easy on her and, considering her complete lack of experience, she should get ready for some bruising. But for the time being she couldn't see past her granted wish and followed him around the tent with sheer enthusiasm.

Ashka put away her bow and quiver, on the ground. She streched her arms high into the sky, cracking her shoulders in the motion. She twisted her back to the left and right, to warm up some muscles. Little did she know about fighting, so she simply imitated what Caith did when he trained.

A few more instructions, the cry of metal and leather, and he was facing her, his odd-looking knife held up. See what I know ? Not so much, unfortunately...
The smile fled her lips. With a blade in hand and his towering height, body shifted in a fighting stance, the walahk looked much more intimidating. Worried, she felt a rush of adrenaline through her body. While her instinct shouted for her to step back, the girl forced herself into an approximatively steady stance. Her grip tightened on the knife, the fingers of her right hand firm around it, and she lifted it at chest level. Grey eyes locked on the kukri.

The blow came from the side, fast enough to surprise her but gentle enough so that she managed to stop it. She thrusted her blade against his while her body turned to the side. Then, she pushed the kukri away with a swift movement of the arm, attempting to ward the threat off her side.
However, she didn't see the foot swinging towards her, only realising it happened when a sharp, sting-like pain radiated in her leg. She was not expecting a kick, but it made the Drykas realised she had to keep focus on every aspect of the fight, and not the weapon alone. She let out a low grunt and took a step back. Breathing deeply, she concentrated her attention on the man's posture. Her eyes flickered from the blade he hold, the position of his feet, the swing of his hands. She looked for an opportunity to strike; but inexperienced as she was, she found it hard to read the scene.

An attempt. She stepped forward and lashed out her knife from right to left, with barely any control over its speed and trajectory; almost mirroring the walahk's first attack, although with much less dexterity. If he stepped away, she would tumble forward and probably have her back exposed. He could also block her attack with his blade. However, if she had been quick enough, the tip of her poor knife would meet his chest, leaving a superficial but lengthy mark on his skin.
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Postby Konrad Venger on April 13th, 2017, 10:11 am

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Not bad.

Konrad spared enough time for the thought and then snapped his attention back to the unfolding brawl. Her reflexes were good, that much he could see, and whatever fear she had of his visage was overridden by instinct the moment his blade came swinging her way. But her form... well, that was why she was here, after all.

"Good block," he said as she stumbled back, wracking his brain for as much Pavi as he could muster. One could hardly be an effective teacher if you didn't know the language of your student. Then again, a fight had a language all of its own. "But not just enemy's blade you must watch. All of enemy. Because will not fight fair."

Then she was on the attack again, rallying, regaining her momentum, and Konrad couldn't help the small smirk that quirked his lips. Brave girl. But bravery would not win a fight. Being a ruthless bastard who knew what he was doing would.

She swung for him just as he had for her, and Konrad saw it coming thanks to the dip of her shoulder, the slide of her foot on her blade-side, a myriad of little tells that meant when her knife came arcing for him-

-he swayed back like struck by a stiff breeze, blade slicing naught but air in front of his chest. She went stumbling forward, body still twirling-

Konrad knew an opening when one practically flopped down in front of him. His kukri flashed up and down like chained lightning, as he hammered the hilt of it into her back between her shoulder blades-

-his right foot snapping out to kick her uncertain feet from under her a moment later. One or both would be enough to send her sprawling, he reckoned. When she looked up at the shadow falling over her, she'd find him standing there. Calm, untroubled... and educating.

"Not put all into one strike. See? You put all body, all energy, into swing. Means when did not hit-" he mimed her falling with the grace if a drunken mummer "-you lose balance. Means was easy for me to end you." A smile followed, and it was not that of a mummer. It was that of a man remembering what that "ending" could feel like, from a long repetition. "Up. Try again."

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Come One, Come All (Ashka)

Postby Ashka Windrunner on April 16th, 2017, 5:40 pm

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Her attack did not unfold as well as her defence. In a swift movement, the scarred man stepped aside, out of reach from her blade. Carried away by her momentum, the Drykas could not stop in time. She only had a tick to spare for a mental curse against her own ineptitude before a blunt object pounded on her spine and her feet were swept from under her, sending the girl to the ground. Tumbling on hands and knees, she dropped her knife in the fall.

The newly-forming bruise between her shoulder blades felt like it was pulsating when she reached out to grab her training weapon. She turned and looked up to the tall figure towering over her, her face a frustrated frown. He simply stood there, tranquil, watching her processing how she ended up down in the grass.

Don't give everything in one strike. She had mistakenly thrown all of her energy into this single movement, which as he explained made her an easy target when she stumbled past his blade. In a real fight, the man would have stabbed her in the back. Or, like he said as a grin twisted his face, "ended" her. Almost like he was smiling at the idea. A brief shiver of unease bolted down her spine, and she gripped the knife tighter. He had clearly done it before. "Ended" a few people. The thought scared her; surely she wasn't used to assassins and mercenaries, having lived in Endrykas her whole life. But besides the thought of all the blood on his hands, it was one more reason to seek his experience for her training. At least, she thought, these techniques he taught had shown their efficiency, proof being the man's very existence.

Pushing this train of thought aside, her body reacted to his injunction swiftly. Up she went. Try again she did.

Breathing in then out lengthily, she focused her eyes, again, on her opponent. Remember to watch not only the enemy's blade, but all of him. She tried to keep her face more composed, her breathing more controlled. She tried to feel her muscles, her legs, and stop them from tensing with stress. But against her will, the girl could feel her heart racing in her chest. The adrenaline worked its way in one more time, her breath sped up, her gaze danced around her, looking for a opening for the knife to strike out a second time.

In a tick, she sent her blade out, but not sideways this time, instead the knife swinged upwards, arcing from gut-level to the head. She did not move her feet forwards for fear of being carried away again, only thrusting her arm and hips in the motion. If he didn't block or send her back to the ground, she would repeat the movement, aiming for his left shoulder, his sternum, his stomach.
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Postby Konrad Venger on April 18th, 2017, 10:36 am

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Tough little shyke. For a Drykas.

He could help the little mental dig at the horse-petchers. Oh, he'd learned to respect them over the last two seasons. Their peerless ability with their steeds, their truly frightening accuracy with the bow, not to mention the fact that they survived and prospered in a land where everything was trying to kill them. They grew up hard and smart or not at all, and this one was no different.

Warriors, he thought to himself as he watched the girl rise shakily to her feet. They're warriors. Fighters. But a killer... that's different. I ain't seeing that in her eyes.

Which wasn't to say she wasn't learning. Her arm drew back and Konrad could see the strike coming before her knife was moving, but he had to admit, the angle surprised him. No sweeping blows from above or the side now, instead an uppercut, one that could slice a man from navel to nose if he was close enough. He backed up a step, a victory all by itself for the girl, and gave a snort of impressed amusement.

"Good!" He barked, in the breath between one blow and the next. "Not do as enemy think you will do. Not go too far, stay smart and keep back-"

On she came, the same blow, but from a different side, and Konrad saw her arm cock again, saw it come low and then up-

-free arm snapping out with mechanical speed, hand locking around her arm at the knife came to the top of it's upward slash, held almost over her head. Konrad stepped forward at the same time, her knife frozen and trapped, his own kukri stabbing towards her stomach-

-stopping, mere inches away-

-his face, even fewer inches from her own. Words coming out in a rasping snarl.

"But not leave belly open. Not make two hit the same. I see second coming. Know what to look for. So, know what to look for, can trap-" he squeezed her wrist, arm packed with muscle seeming to hold her in place with little effort "-and leave you open to end-"

He nodded down, as if Ashka needed to see what was down there. What the end result would have been. Then he pushed her back gently away, giving her a moment to recover herself, waggling his kukri at her... with a smile.

"But... get better. Learning. That is good. But remember: nothing wrong with moving. Have not got to parry, meet iron with iron. If have to, if can, just get away-"

Lead by example, teach by the lesson. If Konrad had mottoes for his impromptu but increasingly common sparring sessions, that would be one of them. The words had barely left his mouth before he shot forward, kukri stabbing for Ashka's stomach. Hopefully she would take the hint and dance away... because if she didn't, his follow up strike - a diagonal sweep, heading up like hers had been - would probably cause some damage, mayhap just to her clothes, or to her skin.

Girl knew the risk, asking me for lessons, he reminded himself.

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Come One, Come All (Ashka)

Postby Ashka Windrunner on May 8th, 2017, 8:25 am

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oocSorry for the delay, I was off the grid for a while !

A small grin of pride twisted the girl's lips. She had managed to surprise him with the low-coming blow, and seeing him taking a step back was highly satisfying for the novice. Embolden by this first success and his appreciative word, she repeated the movement with the same speed, intending to push him back even further.

But when her arm rose for a second time, her knife didn't meet the intended target; in fact it slashed upward into the empty air before the Drykas felt an iron hand gripping around her right wrist, holding it up and locked above her head. The contact startled her, she had barely seen his arm coming up to stop hers, and when he stepped closer a visceral panic, like that of a trapped prey at its predator mercy, kicked in her guts. She gasped, heart missing a beat. Eyes widened and her free arm rose the shield her face, in an instinctive motion. Fear painted across her features, caused partly by the thought of her trapped and useless weapon and mostly by the hideous wreck of flesh getting close to her own face. Her gray gaze locked with the man's copper one.

A voice rasped in the short gap between them. Another mistake she made, another lesson she learned, as he spoke of her predictability and how it could have left her with a stomach sliced open. Her fighting hand firmly held in his fingers and the tickle of his strange blade onto her stomach, she quickly came to understand the gravity of her situation.

Yes, she nodded, no more giving you chances to end me, her eyes spoke. Her gaze narrowed as it changed from fright to determination. He released her and she listened, taking in his words and pulling herself together at the same time, stance moving sideway, knife up, focusing forward.

Just as she was about to mutter a thanks for his advice, the steel flashed before her, aiming for the very spot he had spared a moment ago. Again she gasped for air and staggered, taken aback by the unexpected strike. She managed to dodge it with a step backward, but there was more coming her way. In a tick, his kukri was slicing upwards, and only a swift instinctive reaction saved her from new cuts. She had jumped aside, her reflexes not trained enough to bring her to go against the blade. Heart racing, she gripped tighter on the handle, and decided on a bold move.

The Drykas girl had seen and braved danger in her life like many of her people, dangers lurking in the Grasses for all of them wilderness dwellers; but never had she been in a one-on-one, blade-in-hand fighting situation with another person. It was a whole new kind of fear and feeling, and the adrenaline pumping through her veins almost tingled her in a new, peculiar way, calling for bravery and daring ventures.

Ashka let her instincts flow her brain and take control. She thrusted herself forward, hand and knife held before her in an attempt to stab the man in the chest, legs carrying her onward with perhaps a little too much momentum...
Pavi Grassland signs | Common | Nari
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Ashka Windrunner
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Posts: 128
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Joined roleplay: November 22nd, 2016, 9:54 pm
Race: Human, Drykas
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