PM to join [The Quay] Fresh Scars (Pulren)

Two gang members meet and collaborate to defend against some rival thugs.

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

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[The Quay] Fresh Scars (Pulren)

Postby Kaie on December 19th, 2014, 2:17 am

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7th of Winter, 514 AV
14th Bell


It's not there. It's all in your head. It's not real, the voice in her head reminded her repeatedly as it had the past couple chimes. The Myrian's physical being was deaf to her own mind's reason. Sitting upon the docks of The Quay, the Falyndar savage dipped her hands into the sea again, washing the invisible substance away with a fervid desperation. Palms scrubbed against one another, working to cleanse even the lines pure. After several ticks she removed them from the salt water once more for her amber-eyed inspection.

"Why won't you come off? Red, red, still red," Kaie murmured to herself in her mother tongue as her fingers roved the valleys of the pads of her appendages. Her brows were tugged close to one another in some kind of silent distress. Cursing, she plunged her hands back into the sea and swished them around once more. Then, like a sleep-walker waking from their curious condition, the Myrian tore her hands from her natural water basin and scooted farther up the dock.

"Look at what you're doing! There is nothing on your hands. There is nothing on your hands." For the first time since she'd wandered to the stone docks when she fell prey to her hallucination once again, she felt the freezing numbness of her hands. The icy water of the wintry ocean bordering her gang's headquarters stiffened the muscles of her fingers. They shivered and shook not so differently than the night she'd stumbled her way to Bitzer and Web's abode earlier in the season. Kaie grit her teeth and forced herself to her feet. She wrapped her fur cloak tighter about her frame and began her retreat from the premises. Hands turned to fists about the edges of her cloak to promote long lost warmth. It was only a matter of time before Akajia would bring night upon the city. Ruby would have need of her sword soon enough, and Kaie's coin purse couldn't refuse the extra weight.

Bladed boots clicked rhythmically upon the stone ground away from the ocean's chill. The first snow had not yet come, but even the jungle-born could feel its coming arrival in her foreign bones. As if I didn't miss home already, She scoffed internally as she rounded The Quay House on her way toward the Gate House. That's when her hand instinctively flew down to grasp the handle of her gladius. Poised before one of the towering walls that defended the innards of the establishment stood a rather unfamiliar face. He was an oddly tall man boasting a lean physique. Clad in studded leather with a shield and a fierce-looking trident at his feet, Kaie could tell a formidable combatant in the making when she saw one. For a moment she paused, the trauma of previous events that drove her mad as of late forgotten as she watched him. It wasn't a workout so different from the one Myrian soldiers performed in Taloba. From a resting position he exploded into action, donning his shield and wielding his weapon of choice, then falling back to that resting position to begin all over again.


"Just when I thought I've met all my fellow Scars, " She addressed the man in Common with an amicable half-grin as she neared, before lifting her water skin to her lips. The Myrian drank heartily before she finally lowered and capped it. The momentary scrunching of her face was a sure sign it was certainly not actually water but something with far more strength. Kaie gestured toward his trident with her free hand. "You some type of fisherman? That how they met you?"
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[The Quay] Fresh Scars (Pulren)

Postby Pulren Marsh on December 20th, 2014, 3:21 am

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The sharp bite of the cold day was not enough to fight off the sweaty fatigue that was rising in Pulren's leather armor and clothes beneath. He looked down at the trident and the shield. He had chosen to place the shield with the handle facing down to increase the level of difficulty. Until he could have the discipline to sleep with his shield and weapon neatly stacked, it would always be a scramble to prepare. He knew that the practice he was making today could very well save his own life tomorrow, so it was hard work worth it.

With a nod to himself and a burst of energy, he went into a squat and grabbed his trident, his fingers reaching between the wood of the shield's edge and the cold, stony ground to flip the shield. Once he had it, he tossed it slightly in the air, reaching out with a punch like action to grab the handle. Missing, the shield dropped and clattered against the ground and Pulren imagined an arrow shaft protruding from his gut, inky red staining his clothes from beneath. "Too slow, little Pal", he muttered to himself, using a slight change in his tone of voice to mimic the dead and domineering Uncle Pal.

Pacing back and forth, he looked at the shield. When he was wielding a metallic shield again in Zeltiva, a dropped shield would completely distract him and give his position away. Speed in preparation meant nothing if he immediately made himself the primary target. Shaking his head and rubbing at the scruff on his chin, he flipped the trident head so that it could reach beneath the shield in place of his fingers. Not as flexible but much stronger. He worked the tines beneath the wood and pushed it like a lever, lifting the shield slightly. when he applied force, it flipped the shield over, making it land like a turtle on its back. There was an answer hiding there, but he hadn't figured it out yet. Crouching, he placed the trident on the shield as he had many times before, the shaft balancing on the edges.

Standing and turning away, he faced the wall, his fingers pressed against the stone. With a sharp exhalation, he turned and swiveled on his heel while crouching, taking the shield in hand and grabbing the trident as well in one stroke. As he rose, he gripped the shield with a firm grasp and let the trident slide into a proper offensive position. Was it fast enough? Could he find a way to flip the shield with the trident? Was there a way to make them work together? "Sure, sleep with them in hand, clearly." He chuckled at himself before noticing he was no longer alone in the Quay's courtyard. A lithe and attractive woman approached him. She radiated a sense of calm and confidence that was easily arousing to the Guardsman, outside of her physical prowess and appearance.

A fellow Scar she was. The more, the merrier was Pulren's view on the gang and its growing head count. He'd be happy to fight alongside her and he could guess by her stance and gear that he could probably learn a few things as well. Was he Uncle? Yes, why not. Smiling, he tapped the trident against the ground twice and bowed slightly to her. "A fisherman, indeed. We Zeltivans are proud to be titled so. Of course, sometimes I am a fisher of men. He winked and looked slyly at the sharp tines of his weapon. "Palaren Marshall. Scars call me Uncle. Pleasure to meet ya." Placing the trident against the wall, he showed his open palm, extending it. "And who is this lovely and deadly creature that I am honored to meet?" Lay it on, Pally. Lay it on thick.
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[The Quay] Fresh Scars (Pulren)

Postby Kaie on December 20th, 2014, 5:51 am

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Spying the stranger across the courtyard had provoked her curiosity. His mannerisms, however, undoubtedly earned him her full attention. His bow was almost polite, and the gesture was enough to turn her grin into one of obvious amusement. Exotic, amber eyes studied him for a few ticks, trying to get a read on the green eyes that rested upon a face framed by the scruff that lined his jaw and lips. His high-spirited, easy-going dialogue caught her a bit off guard in all the right ways. Gods, this man has charisma, Kaie couldn't help but note to herself. The flash of teeth she'd given him was probably the first genuine smile she'd offered anyone all season.

"A Zeltivan man? You must've been a shyke fisherman to come here. Then again, you do seem like the type that might find that limiting himself to spearing only fish can get a bit...dull," The Myrian returned without missing a beat. Her sword hand conceded to release the hilt of her gladius for the sake of mutual respect. His introduction and honey-tongued flattery to follow brought forth a mirthful laugh from the jungle savage, who by now understood basic barbarian customs, and extended her own right hand to shake with his. Despite her clarity and success in the Common tongue, her accent was thick with the language of her homeland.

"Uncle it is then. I am Kaie of the Cutthroat Shadows, but I've found this half of the world has little use for clan names. Sorry for intruding on your workout. I had thought I was alone out here." She released his hand and waved it toward the trident leaned against the wall. The last creature she'd seen wield such a weapon was an Ivyess the day their strange sub-race crawled from the bowels of the sea. The Dhani-man hadn't gotten to battle with it on land for very long.

A cruel whirl of wintry wind sent the bottom ends of her cloak whipping about her boots. The Falyndar native paid the pricking of her arms very little mind. Instead she found herself pondering over the intriguing man Bitzer and Web had most recently brought into the fold of their merry gang. They had chosen wisely, she decided. Right from the start she could somewhat see him for what he was: an enforcer. She couldn't help but wonder if he was a sort of yes-man, too. In a sense the Myrian would probably be considered one. Loyalty and military discipline were certainly to blame.

Kaie reached the water skin of wine out toward Uncle. It was her people's understanding comrades in arms drank together just as well as they killed together. She couldn't imagine it would be long until their mettle was tested, side by side.
"With all the shyke going on in this city, it makes one almost fool enough to feel safe within these massive walls, doesn't it?"
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[The Quay] Fresh Scars (Pulren)

Postby Pulren Marsh on January 1st, 2015, 2:35 am

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Not so veiled insults in the form of a good ribbing. It was refreshing, to say the least. Especially from a fellow fighter. It reminded him of home and the Guardsmen, be they male or female."Psh, I'm a good fisherman. I've caught more here than I've thrown away. That's something to say for these polluted waters." It really was. He felt as bad for the aquatic snake people for their new environment, much less than not so friendly and bounty hunting, land dwelling cousins. He took her forearm in his hand while she took his the same. They gripped each other's arms in friendship, Pulren clearly impressed with her tactile strength.

Releasing the greeting grip, he grinned and took a step back, leaning against the wall and admiring the woman. He wasn't ogling her as he had others, as he was clearly seeing an equal and peer before him. It was a good feeling. "Kaie of the Cutthroat Shadows. You say that's a clan? Sounds like a gang." He followed up his ignorance with an awkward laugh and a shrug. "I'm sort of a local boy, you may have to educate me a little." The wind whipped at Pulren but he was quite accustomed to worse. He was thinking of those of his compatriots in Zeltiva who might really be feeling the full fury of the Bonesnapper, rather than this cold wind off of the bay. It bit a little, but that was about it.

Watching as she reached for a skin, he took the offering gratefully. She looked like one of those types that could easily be offended if refused. Besides, he could pretend that his lips had touched hers in a secondhand way, as they would. He took a stout quaff of the skin, the wine gurgling down into his belly and easing the snap of the wind that much more. Smiling and nodding, he reached back toward her with the bladder, smacking his lips and nodding in agreement. "I've found this place to be pretty tame, actually. Zeltiva may be an educated town, but I met Dira there more times than here, for sure." Looking over her shoulder, Pulren's grin faded as he watched down the length of the wall to the gatehouse. He could just see it from where he was standing in the extreme field of vision. There were figured coming from it, armed and armored. They weren't familiar and their gait and manner suggested they weren't friendly.

Grabbing his trident and shield, he nodded toward the men and looked at Kaie. "Company. Let's see what's going on." He quickly moved, keeping his profile as low to the ground as possible until he was against the wall of the Quay house. Looking through one of the side windows, he could see through one of the front windows and spot some of the men. He pointed through his unique observational post to his new comrade. "I see three."
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[The Quay] Fresh Scars (Pulren)

Postby Kaie on January 6th, 2015, 10:18 pm

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To his defense over the question of his fishing prowess, Kaie lifted her palms up in mock defeat with a mirthful grin upon her face. It truly was an art no matter where she traveled. Falyndar's inhabitants were known for their spear-fishing for the most part, but there were plenty that utilized nets to snare aquatic life as well. For that they only needed a good spot along the river or a working canoe. The barbarians abroad had far different methods. With their ships they could venture deeper with fishing rods and large nets, returning with loads rather than baskets full of prey. She wondered which sort of fisherman this man called Uncle was.

"A gang?" Kaie laughed aloud at his assessment, that grin widening upon her features. She could relate to his perceptions. As a constant foreigner, there were plenty of titles, cities, and organizations so strange she could hardly make connections with them to her own society. In a way at least he wasn't too incredibly far off. "I guess you could say that, if gangs were families rather than random bands of cutthroats. Unlike this shyke hole, Taloba doesn't have factions trying to rip its own city apart. Not all clans like one another, but they respect our Goddess Queen and her values more than their personal quarrels." She took another long drink of the alcohol in her waterskin. There was still plenty of weight left in the bladder. By the feel of it, it wasn't even nearly half way gone. Then again, her near-dependency on the substance had made her indifferent toward the amount she consumed. That is, as long as she's not anticipating a fight in the near future.

"Tame, huh? Guess I missed whatever Zeltivan neighborhood you got yourself into. I feel Dira breathing down my neck every morning I wake up here." There was a disdainful shake of her head. It wasn't the violence or the discord that bothered her about the perils she faced. It was the fact the city had nearly no discipline whatsoever. If a formidable force ever emerged with the numbers to sack it, an army of brutes and selfish cutthroats with no formal training could hope to defend their homes. The closest she'd found were the Dragoons, but their numbers were fewer with each battle they waged against the Daggerhand. I suppose that's the price you pay when you demand nothing but cold-hearted anarchy.

Just as she as putting away her waterskin, she caught the eyes of her fellow Scar. More importantly, she could read the alarm that suffocated his playful expression. There was a tension there as he glared over her shoulder. Before he'd reached for her own weapons, Kaie had unsheathed her gladius and turned upon her heels.
"I see them now. I'm right behind you," She murmured in what sounded like more of a low-growl once her amber eyes had spied the approaching threat. Dipping down into a feral crouch with her gladius bared before her, she followed Uncle as silently as she could until they fell back against the wall of the Quay house. She stood up then and waited for the man to make his observations from his superior vantage point.

"Uneven numbers. I never minded a challenge before." Kaie gripped her gladius hilt a bit tighter, and listening to the hum of hostile voices growing closer. Already could she make out the sound of armor. A challenge indeed. "I'll move down to the other corner of the house. Let's see if we can flank them, stop them before they reach where they're headed. When they're in range, give me a signal. I'll follow you through." And with that the Myrian raced quietly along the building until she reached the other corner. Flattening her back against it and peering out slightly to try to see the men before she rushed them. She gave Uncle one final ready nod.
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[The Quay] Fresh Scars (Pulren)

Postby Pulren Marsh on January 12th, 2015, 11:43 am

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He was glad she looked forward to the challenge. It was a sound plan and the pair of Scars were sound combatants, though Pulren suspected his partner was easily his better. That could still work well, adding the element of surprise in. Only brief moments would be allowed to pass before actions would speak louder than words, however, the Zeltivan watching and nodding to her as she doubled back around the house for an easy flank. His shield arm up and solid, the trident parallel and at his side, he stepped out into the open.

For the briefest of chimes, he wasn't noticed. It gave him the slight advantage of surmising his opponents, which was a lucky break and a needed advantage. The three men were moving with purpose toward the front door of the Quay as if they were returning home from the market. Of course, in this case, it would be the weapon market, as they were all well armed and fairly armored. In front was a bearded man wearing loose leather, a pair of gnarly axes in his hands. In the middle was a female wearing a kind of padded surcoat, carrying a loaded crossbow in hand. Bringing up the rear was a larger man with a shield and broadsword, weapons out and at the ready. His armor looked to consist of chain with a breastplate. Pulren knew this would not be easy by any stretch of the imagination, his feet picking up the pace.

"Ho there!" He said it in a fairly agreeable tone, but be it itchy fingers or pure aggression, the girl in the middle swiveled and let loose her bolt without a thought. Bracing and pushing out with the shield, Pulren felt the bolt sink in deep into the barrier. She couldn't get another shot like that. She was already hooking her foot into the stirrup and producing a bolt for a repeat performance. Pulren's pace quickened, his grip on the trident tightening as he closed. The swordsman was taking up a defensive position with shield up in front of her to allow the reloading, the ax man running...yes, running, at Pulren with his blades up and his mouth open. Forget fancy maneuvers, it was going to be another session of Sunberth's favorite game, kill or be killed.

"Kaie!!

He shouted it in her direction, not for his own defense, as that was dwindling. They were all focused on him and no doubt she could take advantage of the fact. As he aided the closing of the gap between himself and sharpened ax blades, he moved close to the wall of the house to limit range of motion. The first ax came to join its bolted cousin, sinking and biting into the shield, this time threatening to wrench it free. Pulren could guess where the other one was coming, so he let the shield go with the momentum, throwing it at his opponent to push back, the trident falling into both hands and firming up. Gambling a glance aside, he could see the bolt was placed and she was going to be aiming soon. The guard was still between them and he had to concern himself with the other ax.

Busy, busy.
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[The Quay] Fresh Scars (Pulren)

Postby Kaie on January 20th, 2015, 4:34 pm

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The waiting game. It was the one she always hated to play. It was the safest part of the ordeal, however, for the end result never guaranteed success. Yet that was never the outcome she feared. The Myrian had a job to do alongside her fisherman-warrior companion. May the Goddess Queen damn them both if they failed. Kaie swiveled her head against the corner of the building to just barely peek out at their adversaries. Three, she counted internally as she eyed them, noting their various weapons and armor. It was more than she had ever dared to wear, valuing her speed too much to weight herself down more than necessary. I need to use that to my advantage.

With each shutter and clink of clunky metal plates, their steps signaled their advance upon the Scars headquarters. They were nearing the door. Adrenaline began to flood the veins of the savage, eyes dilating with the alertness that dominated her conscious mind. Anxiousness crept into her chest for the duration of her hesitation, the wait game slowly coming to a tangible closing she could feel. First, Uncle leaped into view with a calling out for their attention. Braced with his shield and trident and donning his armor, the mere sight of him was enough to reveal the blood lust of the invaders. She heard their grumbles, their curses when they laid eyes on the man who looked to stall their mission. The Myrian clenched her jaw, knees bending in her crouch while she hid in the shadows at the corner at the end of her patience. Amber sights locked on Pulren, strategy racing through her head. She heard the twange of the released bolt and the thunk into the shield that followed. Her mind was made up before she knew it. Then...

"Kaie!!"

The enraged Myrian rocked forward to the balls of her feet and darted from her hiding spot. Their immediate attention was locked on Uncle, but his call for help seemed to increase their awareness. The man with the shield put his head on a swivel, searching for the second warrior in all the wrong placed as he covered their crossbow-woman. Rather than emerged with her battle rally prayer, she bared her teeth and aired on the side of relative stealth. Boots thudded along the ground as she sprinted forward, calculated just as the reloading woman was desperate. There was no care for grace. No patience for anything below brutality for the intruders of their gang leaders' home. With her gladius in hand, the Myrian crashed into the crossbow-wielder with a crushing blow that shocked even her protector. As they fell, the gladius-hand swiped the edge of the blade across her neck. The vicious nature of the fall did more of the work, letting the weapon cleave through the flesh until it hit bone. There was perhaps one like gasp before the damage was done and Dira stole her away.

The broadsword and shield carrier spun with raised brow, turning to take in the sight of his mauled comrade with a lift of his sword. The Myrian tugged her blade from under the woman and turned her head. Move! Panic sent her hurtling away from the downward sweep of the sword in the form of a barrel roll. The broadsword clattered down upon the ground with an angry hiss. Sword. Armor. Shield. Shyke. Kaie scrambled quickly to her feet as the man reclaimed his defensive position. He followed after her with a vicious horizontal cut, sending her reeling back to avoid being divided at the middle. She made a move like she planned to take an offensive swipe, but he surprised her instead with a hitting of his shield to her head. Instantly it was like she'd lost her pattern of thought. Stunned. Spine knocked against the side of the Quay House, eyes practically bugging at the realization of her situation. Blood dribbled from the side of her face that took the blow. There came that familiar burn of the blessing upon the back of her neck.


"For Myri!" She shrieked in her native tongue before she gave a diagonal downward cut with her gladius, just as the man was bringing his arm back to prepare to dole out further punishment. The shield lifted with a grunt from her combatant, who fended off the blow, but frustration and survival instinct brought her right leg shooting into the shield with the weight of her body. He took a step back to adjust to the force. Now! And with the forward thrust of the broadsword, the Myrian ducked low and and stepped outward outside his shield, whipping the gladius low to the man's leg as she moved with divine finesse. He let out a howl when metal ravaged the back of his knee, sending him down upon it. Kaie rotated back to face him in her predatory crouch, teeth bared and gnosis continuing its perpetual blaze upon her flesh.

Before she could capitalize on his weakness, he warded her off with a yell and a wild whipping of his broadsword until he staggered to his feet. Blood poured down the back of his leg. Pain was more than evident in his muddy, tight eyes. He gave a glance back at his own wound. There came a sagging in his shield when he looked back at her with anger. Nearby laid the cooling body of the woman, corpse drowned in its own hot blood steaming in the wintry air. Kaie's amber eyes gave a flicker toward her battling gang member, silently bidding Myri to aid the prowess of his weapon skill, too. The swordman before her heaved and slowly began to limp in toward her with his shield raised. Despite the lengthy trail of blood he left behind, their duel was far from over.
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[The Quay] Fresh Scars (Pulren)

Postby Pulren Marsh on January 24th, 2015, 12:17 am

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A cacophony of chaotic violence came when his partner came screaming into battle. She was a force of nature to be witnessed, much less reckoned with. He was more glad than ever that she was his ally, not his enemy. Of course, Pulren had his own fish to wrestle, the ax man unerring in his relentless onslaught. While the attacker's rhythm had been thrown off by Pulren's surprise defense, he still had the equally deadly sister ax to wield. At least with the trident in hand, his jumping antics would come to an end.

With the ability to direct and control the conflict, Pulren turned his facing so that his back was to the Quay. This also gave him the opportunity to see Kaie facing the only remaining combatant, the crossbow girl down for all counts. Ax man was weaving and watching, looking for a mistake or an errant glance, a drop of the weapon so that it could be exploited and he could chop away with the ferocity that he carried in his eyes. His beard was ragged and his eyes wild, making Pulren believe he came from the trees or some such nonsense. Soon came testing strikes, an upward slice that Pulren pushed down, a side swipe that he answered with a short jab toward the man's face. It backed him off. This man had training with his weapons, but it was clear that he had no military training as Pulren had. It was helping him now.

At the moment of their apparent stalemate, Kaie was pushed back against the wall and as he glanced and watched his opponent glance, she let loose some scream in a foreign language that truly bolstered Pulren's resolve. He pushed in with his leading foot, the trident 's stabbing tines moving down toward the ax's legs. His opponent swiped in an angular cross, catching the fork beneath the blade of his ax. Believing it to be his advantage, his eyes lit up and he pulled backto relieve the Zeltivan of his weapon. Pulren had experienced these kinds of tactics before, however, following the momentum of the pull and pushing his body weight down until the ax itself was freed. A quick swipe of the weapon sent it skittering across the ground. No mercy in mind, the trident came back to find the man moving back and out of range, eyeing his weapons and the shield, which Pulren moved to. "Come and get it. Give me a reason to bleed you out, vagik."

He definitely had Sunberth in his blood now. A part of him literally wanted the man to come and die. Stepping on the wooden shield, he pulled the ax free and kicking the bolt so it broke. Turning it over, he gripped beneath the head of the bolt and pulled it free, though the attention to do so drew his eyes away from the sudden rush from the wildman, who jumped and rolled toward him. Quickly grabbing his shield and trident, Pulren jumped back, which allowed the man purchase of one of his axes again, a wild laugh coming from his mouth of broken teeth. The perfect moment shining so bright, Pulren reached in and put three tines in the man's shoulder for his trouble, pulling back and going into a sweep and stab toward the ground. The fiend kept moving and jumping, but the hand of the wounded side caught a tine as well before he moved out of range.

Pulren answered with a laugh of his own and a spit to the ground. "You're done, today."
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[The Quay] Fresh Scars (Pulren)

Postby Kaie on February 12th, 2015, 6:45 pm

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Both combatants were growing tired. Their chests heaved, legs growing sore between maneuvers, and arms getting heavy by the tick. The Myrian swiped the back of her fist across her face, wincing as she felt the vicious bruising upon her head. Her adversary fared worse. Blood soaked his socks down in his boots, and what dripped to the earth left a bread-crumb trail of crimson wherever he went. He cursed again, spitting off to the side before inching her way. Kaie maintained her crouch, left hand open in her guard slightly ahead of her right hand's gladius. Myri's blessing scorched upon her flesh. Goddess, guide my sword. Let me be smart. Let me be smart. With a groan the armed man came forward with a swing of his broadsword. The Myrian stepped off center and let it clattered awkwardly upon the cobbles. She made a go at his side, but the shield came up and the broadsword warded her off with a vicious cross-swipe.

Faster, she strategized as she circled back. Kaie began to bait him then, drawing on the weakness of his back leg. The savage darted toward his left. He jerked out his sword, and she went right. The man faltered to adjust, but succeeded slowly in turning with her anyway. "Come on, ya savage bitch!" The woman circled him like a tiger, prowling just out of range as she considered her own disadvantages. "What the petch are ya waitin' for! Come and die!" And with that the sword-wielder rushed her with what he could muster. Kaie feigned toward his shield side, letting him try to capture her with the end of his broadsword and he crossed his own guard. The heavy weapon paired with the tired owner fell prey to the Myrian's simple bob-and-weave. Knees went low and body swayed outside the swing, letting her pop up just after his arm came through. The commitment he bestowed the desperate attempt caused his body to twist awkwardly, putting a pressure on the wound that cleaved through his knee, which turned his torso into a state of vulnerability. She wouldn't let such a moment pass her.

The Myrian mercenary thrusted her gladius' point into the side of the man's hips. Chainmail rattled as he howled, shield clattering when he dropped to one knee in agony. Broadsword warded her off with a furious whipping at the air. Twice he tried to find his feet. Twice he failed. Between the uselessness of the one leg and the gouging of the necessary muscles on the opposite side's hip, he was balanced only in pain. "I'll kill you, you filthy whore! I'll gut you like any other animal!" His threats continued despite the wailing that came to his tone. Fear. Using the shield arm to hold himself off the ground, it was only the one arm with the sword she had to be concerned with. Not for long. Kaie strode toward him then. He gasped, shrieking at her then with illusions of final warnings and vicious dicing with his sword. It was not enough. His weakening arm lazily threw the sword out in a horizontal cut. With a yell, the savage knocked it down with her gladius, and advanced to swing it again down onto his wrist. The broadsword clattered to the ground in harmony with his screams.

And then those too were silenced. She drove her angry heel into his breastplate, plate and mail beneath rattling as he fell onto his back. Blood leaked from his leg, his hip, the split wrist. "You're dead the whole lot of you!" He whimpered through angry tears, teeth grit in some sort of resilient hate she did not understand. "And when you are, we're going to burn your walled house to the ground!"

"Words," she growled down at him, kicking the broadsword away and crouching over him. The gladius point hovered at his face. "Only words. They're so much harder to say when you're dead!" And she jammed the sword into his throat, twisting it as he gurgled, hands clawing at his throat in desperation. "This armored enemy is my gift, Mother. Find pride in his death and power in spilled blood. Then may Dira take his wretched soul away."


That panic died when he did. The sword tore free, blood slick along its small length. Eyes went blind and body limp. Red liquid pulsed from the fatal wound, spilling over his skin and weaving between the links of his armor. The Myrian wiped her sword clean on his pants and rose. Immediately, her eyes went to search for Uncle. If he needed her aid, her tired body would rush again toward battle. If not, she'd stride toward him spotted in blood but heart swollen with the pride of victory...so long as she didn't notice the blood that was on her hands.
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[The Quay] Fresh Scars (Pulren)

Postby Pulren Marsh on February 15th, 2015, 8:22 am

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The sounds of battle off to his right between Kaie and the armored man was almost as loud as the throbbing of Pulren's heart and the ragged breaths of his exertion. He was beginning to feel the weight of his weapons and the rush of battle was slowing to a crawl. The wildman looked to be unaffected by the fight, but his wounds bled nonetheless. In fact, Pulren wondered if he didn't somehow enjoy the pain as he was no doubt in it. Chancing a glance to Kaie, he could see that she was in the midst of putting a sure end to her foe. This only strengthened Pulren's own resolve to finish the beard and move on.

Shield up, trident at the ready, the guard began to move in with a shuffle, moving in a foot at a time to close with the ax wielder. The man lifted his the deadly tool and charged in, only causing Pulren to brace with his shield and watch the movement of the other's body. Maybe he was just completely insane. To check this theory, he pushed his trident out toward the man's torso as he approached, stopping him short. The sudden gurgle from the swordsman and the violent chant of Kaie drew his attention as much as the sure death of the trident, however, bringing him pause as he was now clearly outmatched. If Pulren could see into the man's head, he suspected he would see some kind of cogwheel turning as he worked toward a decision of how to proceed.

An eyebrow came up when a course of action was decided. The haggard man pointed at Pulren with his good arm, the ax being the pointer. "Yer day is coming, Scar! Ye will all die! Mark my word!" he then spit on the ground and turned to run. Pulren actually let him start running before his own feet started. It was as much instinct as Sunberth had ground into his head. There was no way this attacker would get out of the Quay. Dropping his shield, he sprinted after the man like he stole Pulren's coinpurse. Once in range, a strong jab caught the leather of the tunic and of the back of the man, a sharp cry of pain coming before he hit the ground.

"Your day has come, vagik." A simple slide of steel through his grip, the tines finding purchase to the bones of the neck as the tines dug in deep. A twist and a pull, a gout of blood coming and pouring out. Pulren held the weapon there, looking the man in the eyes as the light faded away. He really needed to leave Sunberth before a sense of satisfaction and even joy could creep in. The ease of killing was enough to try to comprehend.Pulling the weapon free, he looked over to Kaie and made his way to her, offering a hand of support.
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