[Flashback] Volcano meet Tornado (solo)

[Naama]

Timestamp: 40th Spring 505AV "What did you call me?" "You need better ears, skurak." There was a resounding "Oooo," all around them, as the conglomeration of myrians gathered even closer around the woman and the man who stood toe to toe, their gazes locked in a perpetual state of antagonism. "What's your problem with me, Neum?" Naama growled, her twin swords gripped so tightly her knuckles turned a dark shade of white. "Are you daft? Or have you never noticed those tar pits for eyes?" Several myrians chuckled at the jibe, but Naama smirked in retaliation. "You think you scare me, the son of a leatherworker? Will you slap me around with a piece of boar hide? Is that the way of it?" She felt a hand on her shoulder, but Naama shrugged it off as her penetrating gaze bore into the only man who'd dared accost her in such a way. But her friend would not desist. "Naama this is folly, let's go, leave this loser to his skins and hides, it's not like he knows how to even hold a sword let alone swing it," Tuala proclaimed, and all around the circle, warriors let out of hoot or a laugh, while Neum stood fuming in his revulsion. "The training yards," He barked, his sword extended mere inches from her face. "Let's duel, half-breed, and we'll see if that dirty blood can hold the strength of a true myrian." He turned swiftly, along with half the group of men and women who'd come to watch, their laughter swept away by the hot winds. Naama stood seething, her jaw clenched as tight as her fists. Tuala and Loali stood beside her, their glares trailing after the receding form of their adversaries. "You'll beat him," Loali offered, placing an encouraging hand on the half-blood's shoulder. "He's only a Bloody Hide, their clan is not renowned for their warriors." "No, they're definitely renowned for having foul, loud-mouthed males who don't know their place." Naama snapped, and with growing impatience, she turned and stalked for the Training Yards.

[Naama]

A blue-tinged macaw exploded from among a large saman tree, sending a cascade of water down among the yard grounds. There were pools of mud where the last rainfall had failed to dry, but even cooled muck could become refreshing when the relentless sun bathed them in humid heat. Naama didn't wait long. Beyond the edges of the Training Yard she glimpsed the handful of myrians who'd accompanied Neum to this fruitless duel. She looked on, scrutinizing the hard edges of his jaw, his intense eyes, the scars on his arms that could only have come from the handling of a sword or a wild animal doomed to slaughter. Handsome, but a waste, She scoffed, glancing away. "I see you're eager, tar-eyes," Neum called, his greatsword in hand. There was nothing Naama wanted more than to wipe that stupid grin off his face. "Haven't you a pig to petch, Neum?" There was a smirk on his lips, unyielding. "First disarm," He announced, then abruptly, he charged. Naama had only enough time to lift both her swords before the long blade came crashing against them, the clang of metal sending roosted birds soaring in panic. She retaliated with a swerve of her blades, sliding his sword aside to give herself enough time to dance away. But Neum was not so easily avoided, he lunged at her again and again, until the ringing of metal echoed in her hands and in her ears, and her wrists began to ache from the strain of parrying. "Aggressive bastard," She growled, as she swung her swords at his blade, hoping to hook them in. "You have always been such a bastard, even as a child." "I think my friends would disagree," He barked back, as the greatsword swung above her head. "What have I ever done to you then?" Neum didn't answer, but the look on his face hinted at something deeper, something that wanted to claw its way out, to consume him. Suddenly there was a sword inches from her face, and she lurched back, collapsing on the muddy ground.