Fate Leads the Willing (Solo)

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This shining population center is considered the jewel of The Sylira Region. Home of the vast majority of Mizahar's population, Syliras is nestled in a quiet, sprawling valley on the shores of the Suvan Sea. [Lore]

Fate Leads the Willing (Solo)

Postby Elhaym on November 18th, 2010, 10:08 am

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60th Day of Fall, 510 AV

The distant sound of the 12th Bell is heard throughout Syliras...

Her whole body hurt. It wasn't a particular injury or extremity that could be blamed, rather her lifestyle. Every morning without fail, the training and exercise would take hold, becoming the roots of that day, that fraction of her lifetime. Though, there were injuries. Her right forearm sometimes still ached, as well as her right hip. These dull aches were a reminder of failure and carelessness... something she had plenty of time to think about as of late. Pain sat alone, well away from the city gates of Syliras. The crowded corridors and thundering volumes further intensified by echoes were too much right now. She found herself wandering, lost in thought. Even her faithful dog had been left behind, though not in contempt of his company. He too was tired, choosing to lounge about her room back at Traveler's Row rather then venture out this fine day.

So, it was here at the shore of the Suvan Sea Pain found herself once again. It was one of her favorite places to escape to. Just far enough from the city to feel both isolated and safe at the same time. Her muscled body was perched on a rocky overhang, a decent drop leading directly into the sea if she were to fall. No beautiful beach scenery here, only sharp rocky outcroppings and small waves attacking them in an endless frothy barrage. Pain's clothing were dry; she had walked here rather than her usual routine of running through the knee high water. She was deep in thought. Not a common occurrence, as her usual day to day thought processes could be described as basic at best. Today, however, and for several days before, she seemed to have slipped into a slight depression.

"Why the petch do I do this." She said to no one, blindly grasping at the stony surface near her and clutching a thin shard of stone. She tossed it into the sea, and watched it disappear as if it had never been thrown at all. Her question, of course, had little to do with rocks and oceans. It was about her skills. Her fighting. Ever since returning to Syliras, it seemed to have overtaken her life, swallowing it whole and devouring her. So, perhaps it did have a bit to do with rocks and oceans. She felt like the rock, and her own aggression and fighting was the ocean. Taking over, and controlling her. She thought about it often.

Enjoying a cool evening in Syliras, sketching a casual exchange between strangers. Killing three men that same night.
Exploring the city, and all of it's locales. The primal urge takes over, a brutal fight in a cage for other's entertainment.
A private conversation with a friend away from the city. Two assailants... the memory of straddling that man, only seconds away from gouging out his eyes in a fit of absolute rage.
A simple jog... trying to teach a Squire to fight for the good of Syliras. But unable to stop... knocking him unconscious, unable to control herself.

Every damn day. She sighed. For the longest time, she told herself that it wasn't about the fighting. It was about being the best she could be, being strong and fit. Being a strong woman. Pain shook her head, as if casting that fleeting thought to sea.

"Cause... I like it." She said, answering her own question so simply that had their been anyone to hear her, they would have been flabbergasted. Pain was not one who could vocalize her thoughts with eloquence, only brevity. However, what she said was the truth. She did like the fights. The competition, the adrenaline, the excitement. She also liked winning. She liked seeing someone who had threatened or challenged her crumple to the ground, defenseless. Then and only then, she had power of them.

Why did that matter? These were the questions that bogged her down, made her sluggish. She'd sort it out in her mind soon, that much she knew. She was not one to be broken by her own thoughts. Pain had figured out the hard way that if you fought as she did and didn't have some reservations about your own motives every now and again, you may have more reason to worry than if you did.

"Should have brought Tanny along, lazy bastard." Pain said to the sea, speaking to it now seeing as no one sentient was present. "He's got life down to a science... wonder if he thinks about this stuff." Pain said. Her thoughts wandered from Tanny to someone else she knew, and his own thoughts on fighting. His name was Stitch, a blind man who could most definitely see... and fight like no one else she knew. He was firmly opposed to taking life, and his own inner turmoil was far greater than Pain's. At least, it had been when they last crossed paths. She thought of what she had said to him, something that she thought about often.

"It's easy to learn to fight... but it's hard to learn how to fight."

She said the words aloud, gazing into the distance. It was true. She had a beast within her that would send her into a frenzy when angered or pushed. It could make her kill. So far, no one who didn't deserve it had been subjected to the beast... but that didn't mean it couldn't happen. What if it did?

The source of her troubles. When the thrill of battle and the euphoria of adrenaline turned into the anguish of taking life. It was so easy for her to cross the line.

"Dammit." She said, rolling to her feet and brushing off her bottom. No answers today. She turned, staring into the distance where the walls of Syliras were clearly visible. She could run back. She should run back. Not today. It would take a long while, but Pain simply strolled back to the city gates.


Last edited by Elhaym on November 19th, 2010, 11:13 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Fate leads the willing (Solo)

Postby Elhaym on November 18th, 2010, 11:02 am

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62nd Day of Fall, 510 AV

The sound of the 17th Bell is heard throughout Syliras...

"Tanny... Tanny! Dashish!" Pain yelled, commanding her companion to her side. He had wandered to a vendor's stall, tugging hard on his leash. Oh yes, she knew he planned to mark that poor man's place of business as his own territory. Not today, though it was a genuinely amusing occasion when she looked the other way and let it happen. Pain had taken to the streets of Syliras, if you could call them that. Corridors would be more appropriate. She'd had to get out, had to go for a walk and busy herself. Her mind had been mulling over the same thing for days now. It just wasn't healthy. Even still, with all the hubbub of the Great Bazaar rattling her ears and assaulting her senses it lingered.

With Tanny back at her side, she took to a quickened pace. Her dog complied, keeping up with her as she pushed through the crowds, pulling his leash and guiding him as she made her way. Pain finally broke through the bulk of the crowd, emerging into a tiny courtyard housing what she assumed to be a smith's shop of some sort. Pain quickly shuffled to the side, planting her back against the stone wall that bordered the archway leading in and out. Tanny circled a few times before flopping onto his side, panting. The cool stone must have felt great against his tired old bones. Pain followed his lead, sliding down the wall and landing on her bottom. Seated, she simply stared off into space. The memory came without warning, as they often did. Her eyes seemed to glaze over, any who would pass by noting that she wore on her face the proverbial thousand yard stare.

***

Fall, 489 AV

Father wasn't around. Perfect! Elhaym had begged her brother, and despite his moaning and resistance, had managed to drag him to the training field on their small manor. It was a wonderful place, a small piece of the world that belonged to them. It was made even sweeter by it's location, so close to a Syliran Knight outpost... the wilds of Mizahar were no place for anyone, but here there was some measure of safety. Elhaym and Erik walked to the center of the field, were a life size training dummy had been assembled. It's work surface was a conglomeration of padded leather, straw, and wood. Perfect for training. Or so Elhaym thought. She was never included in the lessons given to her brother by her own father, and so today in an effort to spend time with him she was going to see what he had learned.

"Elhaym, why do you even care about this stuff? You're 13 years old, you don't need to know this crap. Can't we go back to the house and paint? I mean..."

"Don't treat me like him, Erik... I just want to know what it is that you do out here all day. What it's like to learn this stuff. It's not like I want to go hurt anyone." Pain snapped, relating his current attitude to her father's.

"Alright, alright." Erik conceded, not wanting to anger his little sister. After all, it was pretty harmless. If he got it over with quickly, maybe they could still do some artwork before their father got home and chastised him for wasting his time with a paintbrush.

"Okay, well... first, I guess you have to know how to stand." Erik said, spreading his feet slightly and raising his fists to his chin. Elhaym had seen it a hundred times and of course had mimicked the pose when no one was around, but she didn't know why it was so great. She did as he did, hovering his fists at chin level with the left foot and arm in front.

Erik broke down the way his father had taught him to fight, explaining the stance and the guard... the footwork and the importance of the hips. How throwing a punch or a kick wasn't just about that limb. Everything was important, the hips movement, the off hand remaining up and ready to guard, the torque of the primary leg... he rambled on, he himself growing bored with his speech. Fifteen chimes had passed before he realized it, but when his gaze settled on his little sister he noticed she was beaming. It drew a smile on his face, greater than any painting or drawing he could have done. Oh, how she looked up to him. He put more effort into his lesson from that point on, speaking with emotion and dramatic gestures.

After thirty chimes, he had begun allowing her to strike at him at slow speeds. She threw jabs and rear straights with her arms, but the kicks were difficult. Elhaym grew frustrated with her inability to balance, but Erik consoled her with the tender touch her father could never have. You're a novice, no conditioning, no muscle development... of course it's hard. It gets easier. Everything gets easier. And so, with renewed determination, she practiced and he instructed. Sooner than Erik would have liked or expected, she was throwing her skinny arms at him as fast and hard as she could. Her form was horrible, her guard constantly slipping... but oh, how she tried. Erik batted away each punch as if it were a game of patty cake, his soothing voice offering instruction and correction.

Not long after, he began to fight back. Not hard, not fast, but enough to challenge her. She would strike, but he was too fast... her hand pushed to the side, his open palm popping her on the top of the head.

"Dammit, Erik!" Pain yelled, clearly upset. It wasn't that he was hitting her, because that didn't hurt it all. His patronizing attacks were the source of her anger. A real fight, and he would be slugging her across the face. She knew he wouldn't hit her, she didn't want him to hit her in truth... but she didn't want to feel like she was helpless. Her anger drove her, pushing her forward. Then it happened.

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Fate Leads the Willing (Solo)

Postby Elhaym on November 18th, 2010, 11:04 am

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Elhaym's right fist came in fast, a rear straight. It was punch from her rear arm, and thus had more power and less speed. Erik slapped her fist away with the heel of his hand, and fired back with his opposite hand. Every time, Elhaym had been unable to stop the attack. The impact felt different this time, and Erik took in the scene unfolding before him with a growing excitement. Elhaym had managed to thrust her left hand up, their two hands colliding in a mish mash of knuckle and palm. She pushed as hard as she could, pushing his attacking arm away. The greatest surprise of all. She stepped forward, even closer to him... his peripheral vision caught the blur too late. He had grown lax in his defense, far too overconfident. She slugged him, right across the jaw.

"Holy shyke." Elhaym said, taking a step back. She alternated between rubbing her fist and shaking it. She just learned one of the most basic lessons of fighting with your body; even the winner loses. Gods, it hurt like hell.

"Elhaym, that was... great!" Erik yelled, rubbing his face for the briefest of moments before stepping toward her and giving her a hug. Elhaym's eyes bulged, her body contorting into his embrace. But it felt good. She had surprised her brother, and proved that she wasn't a total weakling. He seemed proud. Then, the moment was shattered.

"Erik. Come here. Now."

Her father. He must have been watching them for a while as he walked from the house to the training field. His voice was firm, obviously carrying more than hint of frustration. Erik pulled away from Elhaym, confused for a moment before locking stares with his father.

"Father, didn't you see that? She's a natural! Maybe we should..."

"Get your ass over here and come with me. What did I tell you about wasting time?"

Armande Berial Vormav was not a big man, but he was one of the many cases of "more than meets the eye". He stormed forward, gripping Erik under his arm and pulling him away. He said nothing to Elhaym, only began lecturing her brother as he nearly dragged him back to the house. As the distance between brother and sister grew, Erik looked over his shoulder to his sister. She was standing there, her fists clenched and tears brimming. He mouthed "I'm sorry." His father's hand was harsh, striking him across the face. Erik turned, staring straight forward. Now, her father's head turned. While Erik's expression had been one of condolence, his was anger. Father and daughter locked eyes, and he turned away.

Little Elhaym Vormav, only thirteen years old. Left standing alone in the middle of a field were men taught other men to kill, but women were not allowed. No, not women... only her. Elhaym was just a girl, and her anger manifested in tears. She began to cry, frustrating her further because she was do damn mad and here she was, crying? She turned, covering her eyes with her hands and stumbling forward. Her throat was hot, a lump forming inside that denied her speech. Her fists tingled. Her eyes burned. Dammit! She lashed out, cursing and striking the only thing she could; the worn training dummy that stood before her. Her fist was wild, fueled by emotion. Her fist plowed through, scattering straw and impacting on the wooden support that held it upright. She heard the sound of wood cracking.

Elhaym withdrew her fist, noting the lack of physical pain at the moment. Oh, but surely there would be. Her eyes followed the blood that seeped from her knuckles, and she stretched out her fingers as a single crimson drop fell to the ground.

***

Present Time, 510 AV

Pain was looking at her right hand, much the same was she had in her childhood memory. Only now, she saw scars. Gnarled hands, fighter's hands. Weapons. She had lived another eleven years since that time, and these hands were the result. A single tear fell to the ground, and she began to cry.

Last edited by Elhaym on November 18th, 2010, 11:52 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Fate Leads the Willing (Solo)

Postby Elhaym on November 18th, 2010, 11:52 am

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63rd Day of Fall, 510 AV

The sound of the 11th Bell is heard throughout Syliras...

Pain's appetite was insatiable. Working at the Tooth and Claw wasn't glamorous, but it was honest work that made her feel good. The past few days had been tough, and Lirelle had taken notice of her employee's depressive demeanor. The work had been relatively light compared to normal, a small token of compassion... but appreciated none the less. Her mind had revisited that same memory of her brother and father many times since yesterday. It was strange... what was so important about it?

"Tanny, what's it mean?" Pain said, biting into a small clump of Tal'uma rice formed into a cake. A flask of water was cradled in between her legs, and she sat on the ground with her back against the wall. Lunch time. Tanny sat patiently on his haunches, too busy following the trajectory of Pain's lunch to answer her question apparently. However, his input wasn't necessarily needed. Pain had a decent idea, after so many hours of reliving that specific instance.

Pain had started preparing her body for it's current state the day after that happened. She had gone to that field every day the moment her brother and father left, and relentlessly mimicked the very movements and exercises they had just gone over. Sometimes it was difficult with only herself there, but she made it work. She made it happen. He would take notice of her. She wasn't mentally deficient, some creature to be hidden away and ignored. She wasn't ugly, surely he wasn't embarrassed of her appearance. So what was it? She didn't know. She could only do one thing in her mind to make him notice her; be what he wanted her brother to be. If she could prove that she could do everything that Erik could do, he'd have no choice but to accept her.

It never happened. An entire year spent, and Elhaym Vormav turned into as efficient a fighter as a fourteen year old girl probably could. Which was to say, not entirely amazing a sight to behold, but it was impressive to her brother at least. And then, poof. He was gone. That was a bleak spot in her life, but she replaced the anguish with determination, now striving even harder to take Erik's place in her father's eyes.

It never happened. He continued to ignore her, even as she grew into a woman. Even as she surpassed what she remembered to be her brother's skill level, executing attacks after attack against a leather and straw target with practiced efficiency. He told her nothing, refused to talk... why wouldn't he pay attention to her? I can take his place father, I can do it! Just give me a chance, just talk to me... just look at me!

It never happened. She left. All those years, for nothing... and the anger returned. Pain thought about it, and realized that the anger she felt when she drew blood against that target had never really gone away. It surfaced every time she fought, every time she was threatened... like a red cloud that devoured her sensibility and moved her as though she were a puppet. Ah. She'd never thought about. Never let herself think about it.

"Well, I showed that son of a bitch, didn't I Tanny?" Pain said, mocking herself. Tanny sat still, tail wagging furiously. Pain sighed, offering him the last bit of her rice before pulling a fresh apple from her satchel and chomping into it.

"I think it's cause... you know, Tanny. I bet if you could remember your momma, you'd want to make her happy, right? You'd do everything you could to make her happy, right?" She said, letting her gaze settle on her little dog's wiggling body. He was absolutely enthralled by the prospect of getting a chunk of apple. Pain obliged, and continued speaking.

"I think... y'know, if I just stopped trying to make myself better, I just feel like he'll pop in and say... Why'd you even bother, Elhaym... or somethin' like that." Pain said, pausing to take another bite. The juice ran down her chin, and she rubbed a bandage braced fist across her lower jaw to wipe it clean. "But if I keep going, maybe one day he'll step into my life. Want to be a part of it... Tanny, I gave up trying to get my old man to be a part of my life a long time ago, but that doesn't mean..." Pain stuttered, feeling the familiar lump swelling in her throat and the fiery tingle in her eyes that alerted her to the onset of tears. She held them back.

"That doesn't mean I wouldn't let him pick up the pieces if he tried." She couldn't help it, the tears just came. Was that it? She fought for her father's attention? That was why she broke bones, killed men, trained every day? For daddy's attention? Being strong was good, she would continue even if she found out he died today. She knew that. She was addicted to the euphoria of exercise, the feeling of her body coming off of a workout. The excitement of fists flying and the art of reading an opponent. But above all that, in a plane so much higher that she could never even see it until now, was her own reasoning so simple? She wanted her daddy back?

You're damn right it was.

Last edited by Elhaym on December 24th, 2010, 4:41 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Fate Leads the Willing (Solo)

Postby Elhaym on November 19th, 2010, 3:35 am

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65th Day of Fall, 510 AV

The sound of the 20th Bell is heard throughout Syliras...

Pain had managed to pull herself out of her depression, though it was most likely a temporary state. Her past had been on her mind for a while now, and she couldn't help but think of all the things in her life that made no sense. Questions that would never be answered, it seemed. The day grew old, and Pain had gone to the bazaar in search of some food for a few days. She was on her way back now, trudging along the stone pathways of Syliras with a bag full of fruit, rice, and a plethora of mixed nuts in tow. Traveler's Row appeared in before her, a constant reminder that she was not a permanent resident of this city. She'd given up her home here when money became an issue, and though living as though she were a visitor here made her uneasy it had been the best option financially.

Pain approached her door, fumbling in her satchel for the thick iron key that would grant her passage into her own home. She was excited to see Tanny, and was sure he would appreciate some company after being left alone for so long. Finally she pulled her key free and twisted it into the lock, the tell tale ca thunk of the bolt giving way resonating through the thick wooden door. Pain pushed the door open with her knee, shouldering the bag of groceries and calling out to Tanny as she closed the door behind her. However, something was... strange.

There was a torch lit in the room. She'd put it out before leaving, and her eyes widened in panic for her dog's safety as she spun around. A man. Sitting in a chair by her bed. The room was not large, but the cast shadows from the torch did little to reveal his physical appearance.

"What the petch!?" Pain yelled, tossing her bags to the floor and assuming a fighting stance. Some son of a bitch had invaded her home and had the audacity to sit in her chair? To wait for her?

"I'm sorry, Elhaym... the woman up front let me in, insisted."

That voice. Son of a bitch. Pain's eyes had begun to adjust to the lower light of her room, able to sort of the jumping shadows cast by the flickering torch. Armande Berial Vormav sat before her, her father. Pain's emotions ran wild, sprinting between bewilderment, anger and the fresh feeling of longing. Despite, her words were true to form.

"What... are you doing here?"

Her father sighed, shifting uncomfortably in the chair. For a moment, Pain was overtaken with panic once again as she realized that she couldn't see Tanny anywhere in the small room. She opened her mouth to vocalize her accusation, but before the words came she saw the reason for his odd posture. Tanny lay in her father's lap, peacefully asleep. Pain's shoulders slumped forward in relief, and she placed her hand across her chest as if it would calm her racing heart. In a way, the sight of her companion and best friend so at ease with her father soothed her nerves, calmed her... allowed her to appraise the situation without flying off the handle. However, it was her father that broke the silence.

"Elhaym, if you want me to leave I will. I just... ah, hell. I'm bad at this. I just wanted to check on you. I've got a few friends in Syliras, and i've heard that you've been involved in some... events." Armande said slowly and awkwardly. Had anyone who knew Pain on a personal level been in the room to witness the exchange, they may have formed an idea of where Pain inherited her awkward speech patterns.

"Yeah, and your son of a bitch brother was the one that started all of it! Uncle Deliles sold me out to a bunch of murderous petchs who wanted my head on a stick. Or was it you who did that?" Pain said, starting off in a low voice but gradually increasing her volume to a yell as her anger and memory of that particular discovery took hold of her. Tanny's ears perked up and was woken, and he raised his head in greeting to Pain. "Shyke... sorry Tanny." Pain muttered to herself.

"Elhaym, I assure you... your uncle didn't know that he was actually following you. All he knew was that it was a girl named Pain. I never told him about your... alias. He had no idea it was his niece." Armande said in a pleading tone. His speech came quickly, as if he were trying to rush everything out before Pain demanded he leave and a quartet of Knights ended up hauling him from the room. "Listen, Elhaym. We were both planning to return to Syliras, we'd been in Sunberth for a few years. Things just got too rough. He left first, while I stayed behind to tie up some loose ends... and I warned him about working here. I mean, doing what we do. The Knights don't appreciate it unless you're coordinating with them on someone they need to find. Needless to say, he was arrested shortly after he was paid by those men. I have a friend within the Knights, I think you may know him. He told me that Deliles' story was what alerted them to the whole scandal you'd been involved with. They let him go, but told him to leave Syliras. I was on my way back when this happened, I had no idea... and the caravan he was traveling with never made it to Sunberth. Your uncle is dead, Elhaym. Harbor no hatred for him... he meant you no harm. Rest his soul."

Armande rubbed his eyes, and sighed. Pain simply stood in awe. That whole speech was the most her father had ever spoken to her at one in time in... her entire life, she thought. Probably. She couldn't resist, the resentment of the whole situation couldn't be suppressed.

"What are you doing here, father. You come into my home, disrupt my life... and you want to talk?! You've never wanted anything to do with me, ever. So what's different now, huh!?" Pain said in a hushed voice, trying not to disturb her dog's slumber. Despite, the aggression seeped from Pain's words and were unmistakable. Her father's eyes widened, as if her challenge was completely unexpected. She watched as his face went slack, as if the realization of his abysmal relationship with his own daughter was being discovered for the first time.

"I... I have a lot of things I need to tell you, Elhaym. I've made many mistakes in my life. I think it's time you hear about them."

Pain listened to his brief defense with interest, though she tried to hide it. She glided across the room, keeping her fists clinched tightly. She sat in a chair opposite him and leaned back, folding her legs.

"So talk, then."

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Fate Leads the Willing (Solo)

Postby Elhaym on November 19th, 2010, 8:15 am

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Armande remained silent for a moment, his mind racing over what to say. Confronting Pain was difficult for him. Her nickname, her new identity didn't sit well with him. It was selfish, but it seemed fitting. When he stared into her expectant eyes, all he could see was pain. With a heavy sigh, he began to speak.

"Elhaym... you look so much like your mother. You know, when you were born... I was still a young man. Not too much older than you. In fact, your mother was... ahh, let's see... yes, she was twenty-four. The same as you." He started, his voice wavering upon the mention of Pain's mother. Pain's eyes were wide and her head jerked slightly from side to side, following his words.

"When she died... it crushed me. Your brother was only eight years old, and I had you. But she was gone Elhaym, my life, my soul mate. I was... angry. I won't lie to you Elhaym, I was a young man, not much more than a boy. I couldn't look at you, because you had her eyes... and she died giving birth to you. It was..."

"You blamed me for my mother's death." Pain said in a flat monotone, her eyes seeking his out and locking them down. Challenging him to answer for his past. Her past.

"I did." He said. There was a silence then, that seemed to last an eternity. In truth it was but a chime, maybe two before Armande began to speak again.

"I absorbed myself in my work, which was silly... dangerous. I could have been killed, almost was several times. In many ways, I sought death so that I could be with her again. At the same time, I couldn't just get myself killed. No matter what... I thought about you, I still had a responsability to see to it that you were safe. Allowing harm to come to you would have been an insult to your mother's memory."

"So you just left us there, with relatives we didn't even know to care for us? Always shuffling in and out? That was your idea of taking care of us!?" Pain said, her voice growing louder with her questioning.

"Elhaym, those weren't your relatives. Think back... look at yourself. Look at me. Remember Erik's face... those men and women who took care of you were hired by me. Some of them were trusted friends who I knew could protect you. Some were even the Syliran Knights and Squire's that were posted at the nearby outpost. On their off time, I had them come. I paid for everything... and it cost me everything. No matter how successful I was, I spent all of my earned money seeing to it that you two were protected."

Pain sat silent for a moment, taking this information in. The memories were hazy, but one stood out... a woman, brushing her hair. She remembered, because the woman's own hair was fiery red. And then... she remembered her belt... and a sword hanging from it. So, it was true. Pain's mind wrapped around this slowly, but one simple question unraveled all of her understanding.

"Why the petch didn't you just stay home and protect us?"

"I did. For a long time." her father said, shifting in his chair. "I stayed until there was no money left, and I had a choice to make. Elhaym, I was a fool of a man back then. So stubborn to stay there, in that house and keep it. It wasn't safe, I could have moved us all here, to Syliras." A sigh. More shifting. "But... that was your mother's home, my home. I just... couldn't let it go. That's why I was gone, most of the time."

Pain stood from her chair, moving across the room as her father spoke. She pulled the bag of food she had purchased and placed it on a high table in the corner of the room. Silence fell across the room as he finished, the only sound heard was the clinking of two mugs as Pain removed them from hooks driven into the walls. "Alright, so I looked like my mother and you spent a lot of money keeping us safe. Who cares. You treated me like SHYKE! Do you have any idea what that did to me!?" Pain slammed her fist into the table when she cursed, turning her head and boring into his eyes with her own. "Bastard..." she said to herself in a hushed whisper. However, her actions were a stark contrast to her words. She dipped each mug into a large clay jug of water, and held them in one hand as she pulled free two Tal'uma rice cakes from her bag. She walked back to her seat, and placed the mugs and food down on a small table that sat to in between them and to the side.

"Have some."

Armande didn't move, his eyes suddenly wide. Pain watched as a single bead of sweat formed on his brow, and more followed. What was wrong? "Listen, it's not poisoned. I'm pissed, but i'm not gonna throw you out on your ear without anything to eat. So eat the damn food."

Armande's breath came quickly. This would be difficult. He hadn't wanted to get into this with her yet... she was still upset, he hadn't managed to calm her down at all. Still, he really had no recourse other than to show her. And so he did. He'd been softly running his hand across Tanny's fur, and that had served to obstruct her view. When he reached for the mug, Pain caught of glimpse of the state they were in. The hand he reached with was near mangled, scarred and missing the pinky and ring finger. A gasp escaped her throat before she could stymie the urge, and her vocal chords acted out as well. "What happened to you!?"

Armande smiled, but it was a sad, regretful smile. He pulled his other arm free from his heavy coat, which had previously been buried in it's pockets. There was no hand. Only a bandaged stump that started halfway up his forearm.

"Oh gods..."

"I've lost a lot... Elhaym, i've lost a lot since the day my son died. You can see some of what i've lost right now, but the worst thing I lost... was my children. I think it's... I think it's time I told you what happened that day."

Last edited by Elhaym on December 24th, 2010, 4:59 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Fate Leads the Willing (Solo)

Postby Elhaym on November 19th, 2010, 9:08 am

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Pain's expression was one of pure shock. All these years, he was finally willing to tell her what happened. She said nothing, only bit down on her lip and stared with such an intense look that her father shut his eyes. He began to speak, slipping into a narrative that seemed so crystal clear that Pain realized he must have relived this day for a decade. She had as well. Only her version was the aftermath.

45th Day of Summer, 500 AV
The Wildlands



"Alright, Armande." Deliles said, breaking through the treeline and moving towards his brother and nephew who sat in a small clearing. They were preparing their weapons. "It was as we thought. There are many... one more than expected, actually. Seven men, one woman. She's no slave, she's wearing a curved sword at her hip. The mark is the one with the black sash, he's the one in charge."

As Deliles finished his report, Armande looked to his son. He could see the fear in his eyes, the way he fumbled with his sheath and longsword. Armande put a hand on his shoulder, and turned him to look squarely in his eyes. "Erik, this is why I brought you. I know you're ready. There are simply too many for your uncle and I to handle alone. You're a Vormav... it's time to show the world the power of your birthright."

"... Okay." Erik said, nodding and tightening his jaw. He wouldn't let his father down, no matter how scared he was. He would survive this, and get home safely. His mind wandered briefly to the devastated look on his little sister's face as they rode away... yes, he had to return.

Armande patted his son shoulder in affirmation, and looked to his brother. Deliles nodded. They began to move. Armande's hand rested atop his longsword's hilt, trying to keep it pressed close to him as not to brush up against anything and make any unnecessary noise. Even at his level, he still made mistakes. Deliles was the true woodsman, the one who could move about without notice. Hence, his role of scout.

As they moved, Armande signaled to both son and brother, and they fanned out. With a bit of distance between them, they crept through the trees and undergrowth of the forest, until they came to their position. Each could see from their own unique vantage point a small clearing that was in a clearing ahead of them. The elevation of the clearing was lower than their own, furthering their ability to monitor the enemies. Deliles' report had been dead on. Eight individuals. He could see their faces... hard men, used to the dangers of the wilds. These were slavers, not a particularly nasty bunch, but a threat all the same. Armande had been commissioned by a wealthy man in Syliras who's children had disappeared on the way to Zeltiva, and with an astonishing amount of money and effort had located the source of their disappearance. These men. Armande had warned him that the likelihood of his children being found unharmed were very slim, and he had agreed. He simply wanted the men pay for their crimes.

And so they would. Deliles would be the trigger for their demise. His skill with both bow and blade were extensive, and Armande heard the telltale sound of a longbow being drawn back. He knew it was about to begin. He signalled to Erik.

The first slaver died instantly. His compatriots didn't take notice for a quarter of a chime as he fell to his knees, and then face down in death. A single arrow portruded from the back of his neck, an excellent shot that had pierced him where he his armored body was vulnerable from behind. Their cries and shouts came quickly when they saw him, and Deliles aim was true yet again. From his undiscovered position, Deliles fired yet another arrow that impacted a slaver who chose to roam bare chested with a dull thud. It protruded just above his sternum, and his blade fell to the ground as his last moments were spent walking aimlessly before falling to the ground.

Armande came free from his position, as did Erik. With blades drawn, they charged forward and swarmed into the now diminished numbers of the enemy.

"Erik, fight hard! Do not falter!" Armande screamed, his blade clashing with the first bandit to cross his path. Their blades danced for a few seconds, and Armande's ears picked up the sound of another swordfight. His senses were in overdrive, and as he managed to relieve his opponent of his weapon and riposte, plunged his blade into the man's chest. Leather armor was present, but it was old and worn and did little to stymie his fate. Armande planted his foot on the dying man's stomach, and kicked him away as he withdrew his sword, scanning for Erik.

Erik was doing well, his opponent already wounded. Armande began to sprint, intercepting a bandit who had intended to overwhelm Erik with numbers. Father and son fought side by side, both dispatching their opponents with a display of swordsmanship that did not bode well for the remaining opponents. Deliles as well had joined the fray, leaving his bow behind and drawing his own blade. He was in fact crossing swords with the man with the black sash, thought it looked to be an even fight.

Glory. They were destroying the enemy like a well trained platoon of soldiers descending upon the vile group of villains they were. Four dead now, and four remained. Deliles was locked in combat with the leader, and the other three were scattered. The two men seemed reluctant to fight, having seen their brethren slain. The woman had hastily hooked her swordbelt on, and seemed to have been gathering supplies in a small bag before she took flight into the wilderness. This was the gravest moment of Armande's life, when the thrill of battle and the urge to achieve total victory overwhelmed him.

Last edited by Elhaym on November 23rd, 2010, 4:06 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Fate Leads the Willing (Solo)

Postby Elhaym on November 19th, 2010, 9:28 am

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"Erik! After her! Let none escape!" Armande commanded his son, charging the two others and instilling the notion in them that they could not escape their fate. The two drew their weapons, one armed with a blade and another a two handed axe.

"Father, she's fleeing! I should help Deliles finish off the leader, he's the one we want!" Erik yelled, shuffling about and unsure of what to do. His instincts told him to finish the mission, but his father had ordered him to pursue the fleeing bandit.

"Deliles can handle himself, Erik! Do it!" Armande screamed, his thunderous voice punctuated by the sound of clashing iron. The two were terrified and their fear made them sloppy, but despite there were still two of them. Armande fought to maintain the advantage, parrying and pushing them aside with a blend of swordsmanship and unarmed combat.

Erik shook his head, and bit his lip. Stupid, this is stupid. Still, he obeyed. He took off, his sword drawn and recently bloodied. The woman couldn't have gotten far, and Erik was very fast. He careened through the treeline, picking up her wild trajectory and homing in on her as he raced through the forest. Soon, the clanging of iron was a distant sound, and he found himself alone.

And just as suddenly, he was not alone. The woman stood atop a large rock that was half buried in dirt and covered in moss. Her eyes were wild, the air around her seeming thick and ripe with power. She was beautiful, not a typical slaver... her hair was raven black, flowing about her shoulders. It occurred to him at that moment that she looked... well, yes, she looked like she could have been a relative. Erik did not falter. His battle cry echoed through the forest as he lept towards her.

Armande had wounded one man, but he was having more trouble than he anticipated. He was losing ground when the dulled metal edge of a blade ripped through the chest of the axe wielding bandit, as much to Armande's surprise as the bandit's own. The last man's sword was locked with Armande's, and his eyes were wild. He witnessed Deliles pull his blade from his friend's body, and shove him to the ground. In his hand was a black sash.

"Please, you don't have to do this!" The man cried, but he new his fate was sealed. For a moment, salvation came in the form of a blood curdling scream. Armande and Deliles both jerked their heads to the wilderness, knowing whose voice they had just heard. Armande pushed the man away, and took flight to his son. Deliles grabbed the bandit by the shoulder, impaled him mercilessly, ending his brief moment of life gifted by Erik's disruption.

Armande was frantic. "Petch! PETCH! Why did I send him out there alone!?" he screamed, further exhausting his lungs. When he came upon a large rock without warning, his legs near buckled. His son was there, backed against the rock. Both hands were gone, severed. Blood flowed from the wounds, his longsword useless and resting on the ground aside him. Armande's mind screamed in fury, but his mind nearly collapsed with what he witnessed next. The woman was upon his son. He was not alone. She was actually behind him, holding him by the neck. No words were exchanged, no lingering speech that would give Deliles time to catch up. She twisted her arms, and Erik's neck cracked louder than anything Armande could remember hearing. His son slumped to the ground lifelessly like a rag doll.

Armande's own battle cry was deafening, and moved to his son's murderer like a feral beast. He swung, back and forth, but he couldn't hit her. His mind was racing as the woman artfully manipulated her body, flowing like water and rendering his attacks harmless. Her own blade had yet to even be drawn. How had she severed his hands? The answer was a wound all in itself to Armande. A swirling vortex raged beside her, and now she was moving around as if in a dance. A voider? Had he been so blind in rage that he didn't notice the woman could manipulate djed this way? Without warning, the swirling black entity careened towards him, and Armande threw himself onto the ground. Scrambling to his feet, he raised his sword to attack... but it wasn't there. Rather, the blade looked as though it had been cut clean off only a few inches above the hilt.

The woman could use both projection and voiding. What sort of monster had he sent his son to face? At that moment, Deliles crashed into the scene, taking in the destruction for only a split second before charging the woman. She fleed, apparently not willing to chance such a lopsided fight. Deliles pursued, but Armande could do nothing but crawl to his son's body. He slid next to it, propping his back against the rock and pulling his son into his arms. His cries told the tale of a man who's soul had been fatally wounded. He had sent his son to his death... for nothing.

When Deliles returned, he simply shook his head. He had not been able to catch her. They sat in the clearing for a long while, no words exchanged. When the silence was too much to bear, Deliles left the clearing and set to work constructing a makeshift stretcher from the resources the wilds obliged him. The fabric of a tent served as a shroud. They carried him home that way, victorious in their mission, but broken of soul.

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Fate Leads the Willing (Solo)

Postby Elhaym on November 19th, 2010, 10:57 am

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Pain's whole body was rigid, transfixed on her father's words as he spoke. The horror of the moment was real to pain, not just a story... for the first time in her life, she could feel that her father actually cared for something. The way his voice slipped when he described watching her brother die... his son die. When he finished, there was a small silence. Armande cleared his throat, and reached for the mug of water aside him. Pain watched as he clumsily grasped for it, but his hands were shaking horribly. She could feel the pain emanating from him, having relived that trauma once again. For the first time in her life, despite just now being let on to her brother's fate, Pain felt compassion for her father. She quickly stood, snatching the mug from his clumsy grasp and lowering it to his lips. She tipped it back, and he drank graciously. After a moment, she set the mug down and sat back down in her own chair. Perhaps the first tender moment ever shared between the two, in total silence.

"Why...? Why couldn't you tell me this before?"

"Elhaym... I was ashamed. I was afraid. I was... a lot of things. I sent my own son to his death, watched him die. I had to carry him back, bury him... and I knew what you had been doing. Out there, trying to learn how to fight. You were so young Elhaym, but you are my daughter. I'd seen your temper, how irrational you became. I couldn't tell you, because I knew what you would do the second you thought yourself ready. You would leave, you would look for her. You would die. I couldn't bare the thought of losing another child to that witch."

Pain opened her mouth to argue, but something stopped her. Perhaps it was because he spoke the truth. Even now, an inner fire was blazing that made her want to storm out of the room and look for the woman who had killed her brother. When the trauma was fresh, so many years ago... she knew it was true. There would have been no stopping her. She would have left, and she surely would not be sitting here today. Instead, she offered a small statement.

"So... you were protecting me."

"I thought I was, and as time went on, I considered telling you. But I saw how strong you became, only after a year... and how bold you became, even striking out at me. Your anger could control you in the heat of the moment, it was almost as if it were getting worse. So I kept it from you. Elhaym, iIve been a pathetic father to you, not even worthy of that title. But... despite that, I could not send my only remaining child to her death. I'm sorry."

Pain couldn't take back all the years of hating him. She couldn't take back the curses she'd screamed and the times she struck him. In this moment however, a truth that she had never known was thrust upon her and she could do nothing but accept it. He had actually cared about her. Pain's eyes shifted to the floor, and she moved uncomfortably in her chair. The next few words from her mouth would be hard.

"It's okay. I... ahh, gods. I forgive you." She said, letting out an exasperated sigh as she spoke. Her father's body jerked up and his eyes went wide. Before he could speak, Pain cut him off.

"Listen, Dad... I guess I could blame you for it now. Y'know, now that I know it's your fault. But really... you just... you can't blame yourself, and I can't blame you either. It just... happened. I'm just sorry it took so long for me to find out about this."

He sat silent for a moment, the slowly dimming light from the torch casting harsh shadows across his face.

"I found her again, you know. Your uncle and I... we tracked that bitch for ten years. It became an obsession, not just for me... for both of us. Erik was my son, but he was your uncle's blood too. We caught a lead in Sunberth, one in a million chance. Someone asked if we were with a girl that matched her description. Easy mistake to make, she looks like she could be a Vormav. My father and your mother's father both traveled here from Lhavit before we were born with a big group, y'know. She is probably the daughter of someone they knew. So... she did look like she would have. Of course, from there we caught her trail."

"Did you kill her?!"

"No. I nearly killed myself. Deliles too." He said in a distant voice. With that, he raised his mangled hands into the air as if to display them to Pain.

"When your brother died, I started practicing something that would make me stronger. I knew I couldn't stand on even ground with her without something extra... so, I began to study the flux. It's dangerous to use..." But his explanation fell short, as he noticed Pain already nodding as if she understood. With no further elaboration needed, he continued.

"It was... it was hell. She fights like a demon, Elhaym. I couldn't beat her, and I lost control. I shattered my own hand, destroyed it... and she took what she could from the other. Deliles didn't get away unscathed either... and once again, she got away. I had my hand amputated to ease the pain. It was... it was not what we expected to happen. It finished us."

Pain's face initially showed concern, but something else nagged her that slowly contorted her face into a total mask of resentment. "What the hell, you thought you'd just stroll in here and get me to finish the job? Is that it? That the only reason you even told me all this shyke, so I could go have my turn and come back without an arm and a leg? You want this bitch to kill our whole family, is that it?!"

"You think it's easy for me to do this!? I've lived with the shame of my failures for a decade Elhaym, I could have gone on! I'm trying to fix this." Armande said, his voice rising and growing firm for the first time since she had set foot through the door. This was the father she knew, and either out of respect or force of habit, she let him say what he thought he had to say. "I know what your capable of. I know you could avenge your brother. Elhaym, i'm sorry for the way everything turned out... but please, just understand that I everything I did, I did it because I thought it was right. I can't expect you to forgive me for the way I treated you as a child, but I do expect you to at the very least, listen to me."

Pain sat motionless, her eyes following Tanny's blurred form as he lept from her father's lap. Their heated discussion had woken him, and now he propped himself up on her knee, begging for attention. How blissfully unaware he was, and how jealous Pain could be of that sometimes. If only it were that easy for nothing to matter. She, however, was aware... and she had to say something.

"I'm sorry... it's just that... dammit, i'm pissed too y'know. But... I think you know me well enough to know i'm going to go after her. As much of a worthless shyke of a father you were, you know that much. And I will." Pain muttered, putting perhaps a bit more sting into her words than she intended. Her father seemed to accept them however, and he leaned back in his chair.

"I knew you would. You're my daughter." Armande said, pushing himself up from the chair as best he could. He stretched, and Pain noticed as he took a step that not only were his hands ruined, but he walked with a limp now as well. Before she could mention it, he spoke over her. "I'm going to go... I don't want to keep you up anymore. We can talk tomorrow, but for now, I..."

"Stop. You aren't going anywhere. I'll sleep on the ground."

Armande hesitated, but agreed. As she listened to his light snoring only a few chimes later, it amazed Pain that things had gone as well as they did. Sure, there had been a few heated words... but nothing as nasty as she had always envisioned. Who knew. She had a dad again.

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Fate Leads the Willing (Solo)

Postby Elhaym on November 21st, 2010, 7:04 am

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68th Day of Fall, 510 AV

The sound of the 18th Bell is heard throughout Syliras...

It had been... interesting. Pain had let her father stay in her tiny room at Traveler's Row for two days now. Each morning, she had woken up surprised to find him still there. It all seemed like a dream that would be shattered any moment. Oh, they had bickered back and forth, a few times escalating into yelling matches. Years of tension could not dissolve so easily, it seemed. All in all however, it was... good. Pain's father had spent quite a bit of time out and about in Syliras or within Pain's room scribbling notes in a book he carried. He seemed to be content to acclimate to the city while she was laboring at the Tooth and Claw. Their combined fatigue towards the end of the day lent itself well towards long discussions, an art form the father and daughter had to make up as they went along.

Armande spoke at length about the woman he sought, the woman who had killed his son and maimed him and his brother. He blamed her for not only his son's death, but the inevitable demise of his brother as well. His reasoning as he explained to Pain was that Deliles, his brother and her uncle, had been lamed after their battle. His right leg and arm were wounded, and he was no longer able to draw a bow or run. Surely, had he been fit he would never have fallen prey the likes of the bandits and raiders that harassed travelers between Syliras and Sunberth. Pain learned many details about her, including what he believed to be her alias; Crow.

Crow. This woman would pay for her treachery. On the evening of the 68th of Fall, Pain and her father were going over the details he knew about her yet again. Only this time, her father reached into his large pack and produced a worn journal with yellowed pages and a leather cover made flimsy by age and wear. He slid it across the small table where they sat, offering no explanation but simply motioning for Pain to open it.

As she did, she found it's pages to be filled with elegant script, and after quickly scanning the words she surmised that this journal was a file of sorts on the woman. Upon flipping a few pages deeper, Pain found something most curious. A drawing of the woman's face, very detailed and drawn from a fine black ink. Apparently, art wasn't a skill that had emerged solely from Elhaym and her brother. Pain was not concerned about her father's hidden talents, because for the first time she could put a face to the name. Her name is Crow. This is her face.

Pain took the journal in hand, and leaned back in her chair. Her father went and laid down, exhausted from the day. She however, was nowhere near sleep at this point. Her chair rocked back on two legs, and Pain placed her heels on the table top as she reopened the journal. She inspected the writings further, and noted near the end of the content the handwriting degraded horribly. Pain knew this denoted entries after his hands were maimed. The content of these entries were different, more concise and not so much related to the woman. These entries explained what her father knew of his own father, and the city in which he came; Lhavit. It explained Pain's lineage, but the information was hazy at best. Her father believed that his own father may have changed their family name upon settling in Syliras. Several strange questions and entries, mostly dealing with Lhavit. Interesting. Pain had heard of it of course, but she'd never studied the city or it's history in depth. She most definitely had never imagined traveling there. Is that what her father had in mind?

"These last few entries talk about Lhavit. Why?"

Pain's voice shattered the silent calm that had enveloped her small room. Her father didn't flinch, rather opened his eyes slowly and remained unmoving from his relaxed position on the bed.

"She is from there, she has to be. I've thought about it for a long time... her abilities coincide with that of a particular class of Lhavitian warrior. More so than that, her appearance. Her aesthetic is that of a Lhavitian, just as yours and mine." He said in a slow, calm tone. Armande adjusted his position, clasping his fingers behind his head and stretching out further. Sleep had not come as easily for him as he had anticipated.

"So...?" Pain questioned, knowing that his reasoning seemed solid but all too aware that there had to be more to his interest than simply creating a biography.

"So... when I last encountered her, she was in the wildlands near Sunberth. The first time, it was not far from Syliras. She moves constantly... searching for her frantically right now will accomplish nothing. Remember, I tracked this woman for ten years before I caught her trail." Armande said in a surprisingly easy tone. They had argued much and shared moments of kindness, but he had grown acutely aware that his daughter did not like being talked to as though she were dim of mind. His words came across informative rather than condescending.

"I think, if you were to go there... you might find out more about her. Who she is. What she's capable of."

"You... want me to travel to the other side of the world!?"

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