Closed Black and Blue and Red All Over (Aer'wyn)

[Sanabael]

18th, Summer, 518 AV

The Slagheap was, quite possibly, one of Sanabael's favourite locations in Sunberth. It was dirty, and it smelled awful, and there were always people around causing trouble, but she loved it nonetheless. She liked sitting quietly, often with a bottle of liquor, and simply watching the flames, embers, and smoke.

Tonight was one of the nights that found her by the heap. It was early evening, the sky a deep velvet expanse of indigo, and the heap was burning brightly. Sanabael picked her way through the debris carrying a bottle of wine, boots crunching on bits of gravel and broken glass, approaching the flames.

The closer she got, the worse it smelled, but she was mostly used to it; at least, while she wrinkled her nose, it didn't make her want to gag as it once had. Picking a mostly vacant area, Sanabael sat on the ground.

It was warm next to the fire, with her leather jacket on, but she didn't remove it. Withdrawing her gladius from its scabbard, she popped the cork off the top of the bottle she held, and took a deep drink before sheathing her weapon. It was shit quality, the alcohol more bitter than fruity on her tongue, but it ran warm down her throat.

Settling back, Sanabael watched the sparks and ash whirl around her in the air. The scars on her palms itched beneath her gloves; she longed to draw out her res, to toy with the fire so close to her, watch it dance along her fingertips...but she knew better.

Magic was not exactly welcome in Sunberth, and she was quite good at hiding her knowledge of it, if she was honest. All it took was keeping her scars covered and being mindful of where she practiced. Nobody knew that she could use reimancy; nobody but one person, and she was six feet beneath the dirt.

The thought sent a sharp twang through Sanabael's chest, and she stubbornly drowned it out with a long swig of wine. The sound of footsteps scuffling towards her made her glance up; a scrawny kid was shuffling towards her, dull eyes lit up in the light of the burning slagheap. "Spare a sip of your drink, miss?" He asked, rather pathetically.

Sanabael frowned; his voice was high-pitched, still in the stage before puberty cracked and deepened it. Her fingers flexed and tightened around the neck of the bottle. It wouldn't hurt her to give him a sip of her wine; but who knew what he would ask for next, and if anybody else saw, she'd be swarmed with beggars, and pegged as weak and soft.

"Petch off, kid," She snapped, voice tight and black eyes narrowed. The kid drew back, pleading expression changing to a scowl, and muttered some choice insults as he sulked off to go ask somebody else.

No longer feeling at ease, Sanabael drew herself to her feet, brushing dirt off the back of her leather pants as she stalked away from the heap to go find some peace and quiet elsewhere.

She wasn't far from the city; specifically from the Night Eyes' territory, where theoretically, she was probably safer than anywhere else. Sanabael snorted slightly as she walked back towards the edge of Sunberth. If someone had told her five years ago that she'd be a part of one of the city's major gangs, she'd have laughed in their faces, then possibly try to knock their teeth out. Yet there she was, the copper coin she had taken to always carrying burning a hole in her pocket.

A few people still milled about here and there, even between the heap and the city, preferring one or the other at a distance; or maybe both. Sudden rapid footsteps in her direction caught her attention, and Sanabael swung around; it was the kid from before, apparently either holding a grudge or very intent on acquiring her bottle of wine as he ran at her.

Metal flashed in the light of the moon, and Sanabael realized he was holding a dagger. She swore, barely managing to step to the side as he rushed passed her, stumbling over his own feet. What did this kid think he was doing?

He whirled around, pointing the dagger with a shaky hand at Sanabael. "Give me your money," He snapped. So asking for the wine had been a ploy.

"Go ask someone else, kid." Sanabael said, shortly. She was wary of the dagger, but it was hard to be too afraid of the dirt-streaked, gangly boy who hadn't even hit puberty yet.

"Give it to me!" He yelled, ignoring her words. The mixed blood sighed, holding her hands up as she leaned down slowly to set the bottle of wine at her feet, then reached for her waist. Rather than fishing out her coin purse, Sanabael unsheathed her gladius.

The ridged bone handle rested cool in her gloved palm. She was hardly an expert with it, but if she was lucky, it would scare the boy off. But he was foolish or desperate or both, because he ran at Sanabael again, the dagger raised.

Swearing, she easily stepped aside, watching him go stumbling past her again, and reflexively swung her gladius in his direction; he was out of her reach by several feet, and the swing went wide, missing him entirely.

"You're worse at this than I am," The young boy jeered. Sanabael frowned, wishing he would just back off already.

"I'm not giving you anything. Go try someone else, preferably without a sword, kid," She snapped, readjusting her grip on the gladius. She wasn't going to hurt a kid; she had morals, after all, but she wasn't going to let him get away with what he was trying to pull either. Were all youths so stubborn and stupid?

Something seemed to make him change his mind, because suddenly he stumbled back a step, then turned and took off. Sanabael scowled, making sure he was truly gone before she turned back around, picking up her bottle, then pausing.

Not too far from her stood the hulking form of a man, broad and at least a foot taller than her, if not more; his skin was a deep shade of blue that echoed the night sky. She wondered how long he'd been standing there, and flushed slightly, embarrassed at the prospect that he had seen her pathetic attempts to ward off a practical child.

However, she was curious as well. She'd never seen anyone like him, built like a brick wall and with such a dark shade of skin in a lovely blue colour. "Can I help you?" Sanabael asked cautiously, her gladius half-leveled at the stranger, ready to fight him if she had to, though she sincerely doubted her chances with the way he was built.

Ledger :

Bottle of wine: -10 GM

[Aer'wyn Grisghul]

It seemed just about anything was worthy of a knife fight intros god forsaken city. Even something as silly as refusing a swig of your wine could get you stabbed. Vel did indeed see the whole exchange and found himself wondering just how someone quite so bad with their weapon had made it to adulthood in such a city. Brows furrowed in judgement.

“I sincerely doubt that.” He replied simply looking the girl in the eyes before lowering his gaze to the point of her blade and then back at her as if prompting her to reconsider whatever it was that she was planning to do with that sword. And she better do so in enough time before he got a little too impatient.

With skin the shade of midnight and hair like the feathers of crows, strands swaying in the breeze, the Akalak was quite a formidable sight. Clad in leather studded armour from neck down. A black cloak obscured the entirety of his left side. The fingers of his right arm clenched against the massive sword, still in it’s scabbard. Perhaps she wasn’t one to harm a child. Vel had morals too, ones very different from most common scoundrels, and neither kids nor women made the list of those to spare the wrath of his judgement if he saw fit.

“It seems, it’s I who just helped you.” The situation warranted the slight dig at the black eyed girl’s pride. If not for his presence, the Akalak was almost certain that the kid would have had her hide. Sunberth bread vicious pups. “Don’t look at me as if I’m another one of those street rats. I’m not after your coin. Geez, girl you can put that needle down unless you’re itching for an ass whooping so badly it can’t wait.”

Vel's voice lacked even the hint of fear or uncertainty when addressing her. There wasn't a trace of weakness about him. The way he carried himself; back straight, every movement purposeful and precise, down to the slightest flick of lashes on a dearly handsome. A severity about him seemed almost out of place of such a face of beauty, as if his skin had once belonged to someone else before he became it's inhabitant.

"Go on then. What's your name? Just incase I'll ever need to put something on your tombstone, and judging by your expertly dispatch of that child, it seems a good idea to get one ready sooner rather than later. Wouldn't you agree." That insult was a little unnecessary but Vel couldn't help himself. Though the mask of his face had yet to crack a smile, he found the whole ordeal very amusing.

Credit for template goes to Luminescence

[Sanabael]

The man didn't bat an eye at her; the way he glanced down at her blade made Sanabael feel foolish, but she didn't lower it. She knew she was no match for him, but if he was there to cause trouble for her, she wasn't going to give in without a fight.

She noticed the way the fingers of his hand curled around the hilt of his sword, and it made her body go even tenser than it already was. A beat passed in tense silence, then another, and finally the man broke it with a jab at her pride.

Sanabael's mouth curved into a frown; he wasn't wrong, but that didn't mean she had to like it. "Maybe so," She said, sharply. His next words, despite the irritation in them and the edge to them, relaxed her slightly.

She didn't trust him, but she did believe him. If he wanted something from her, he could have easily had it and been on his way by then. Pursing her lips, she gave a curt nod and sheathed her gladius. "You can hardly blame me for being cautious," She retorted. "You've spent more than five chimes here, haven't you?"

Another dig at her pride came from the blue-skinned man, and her frown turned into a scowl, colour rising in her tanned cheeks. She hoped it was dark enough that it wasn't visible.

"Sanabael," She said, after a moment of consideration, taking a swig from her bottle of wine. "And you don't have to be such a prick about it." Despite her admittedly unpleasant upbringing, Sanabael had lived a rather sheltered life, all things considered. Sure, she had been a slave, which was a significant portion of her life that she tried to block out; but that had, to some degree, assured her safety.

Rarely had she worried about shelter or food, and it kept her safe from a large portion of the violence in the city as well. Funny, how carefully she had been treated when she was an object. Except it wasn't funny, not really, because she'd just been the equivalent of a sack of Mizas on two legs, and nobody wanted to lose profit.

She shook the thoughts off, taking yet another drink from her bottle. "And you are? I've not seen anyone like you before. I'm sure it must be nice, not having to worry about bratty little street kids trying to steal your wine and coin and stick you in the back," Sanabael snorted.

Her dark gaze returned to the sword he had drawn attention to earlier; it was huge, compared to her gladius, but appropriately sized for the mountain of a man standing before her. She hummed thoughtfully, and after a moment, took a step closer and held out the bottle in silent offering. It seemed unwise to make enemies with the stranger, so she figured it best to offer an olive branch of sorts.

"How well can you use that thing? Or is it just for show to keep the little snots at bay?" Her voice was mildly taunting, a smirk crossing her lips. If he could dish it out, then he'd better be prepared to take it as well. No matter how tall and broad he was, and no matter how much she would like to avoid getting on his bad side, she was not about to let him get away with snide comments and receive nothing in return.

Sometimes, Sanabael wondered how she'd survived so long in Sunberth.

[Aer'wyn Grisghul]

Sanabael’s scowl entertained him so very very much. Vel was a man who enjoyed a reaction, be it positive or negative, as long as there was intensity behind it, he was happy.And her scowl certainly was intense. Like two daggers, her black eyes pierced him only to see a curl of the lip form a smile of ridicule in the beauty of his features.

Commit her name to memory is indeed what Vel did. Certainly he wasn’t going to forget that face any time soon. And, a little more politely, but with a hint of utmost amusement with the drunk, he yelled his own. “Vellisius. Though you can call me Vel, I suppose. And to answer your question, it’s nice indeed. Though if you bulked up a little and learned to swing that thing a little faster you’d need not worry either.”

He approached her, leaving his own sword here it was, safely tucked in the scabbard. Graciously he took the peace offering, taking a gulp of it like it was whiskey he was shotting, not wine. But then again Sunberth wasn’t known for fine alcohols. People drank not for the taste but the effect. Soon after he handed the vessel back to her, a nod of gratitude.

Stretching out his right arm once more he gestured with his fingers. “Come. Show me that sword of yours. It’s far to small to see properly from long distance.” He chuckled. Of course he was only being ferocious but what else could one do in a city that reeked of shit and death, other than laugh? Even if it was at somebody else’s expense.

It seemed soon enough Sanabael joined in the taunting which only made it more pleasant. How better to forge a friendship than mutually taking the piss out of each other’s pride? He saw a her a little bolder, a little more self assured instead of cowering in his shadow like a child. And he liked. Indeed Vel was a sucker for a strong witted woman.

“Little snorts like you, that’s for sure.” He chuckled again before looking at her again. A jab softened a little by a smile, eyes saying that he didn’t really mean the insult seriously. “I suppose five decades of training with long swords in Riverfall does teach one a thing or two about combat. If I couldn’t use it I’d have opted for something a little smaller and less cumbersome.”

To show her exactly what he meant with those words Vel brushed his cloak out of the way so that his left arm was exposed. Or at least what was left of it. For in the place of where a mirror image of his dominant hand should be, there was a stump in it’s place, ending with an angry scar just bellow the elbow. It was perhaps his most distinguishing feature between Vel and the light brother that hid behind his temples. The disability was on his body not his pride. He had no wish to conceal any of his scars.

If Sanabel knew anything about swords she may realise that using a sword traditionally intended for two handed combat with one would make anyone with no idea how to use it profoundly disadvantaged. Especially since it seemed to be the only weapon he had on him. So he was either a yearned swordsman or a suicidal imbecile. Then again it was Sunberth - weirder things have happened.

Credit for template goes to Luminescence

[Sanabael]

Vellisius; she committed the name to memory, filing the allowed nickname into her mind as well. He had a point, but Sanabael stubbornly refused to respond, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of agreeing. Instead, she watched him take the bottle from her and take a drink of wine.

Somewhat pleased that her peace offering had been accepted, she took the bottle back, raising a brow at his gesture. After a moment, she tipped her head back, draining the last of the wine, and tossed the bottle aside carelessly; it shattered somewhere not too far off.

Drawing her gladius again, Sanabael flipped it around, carefully holding it by the blade and offering the handle to Vel. "Some of us like subtlety," She retorted, with a small toss of her head. She narrowed her eyes at his taunt, though the blow was softened by his chuckle and fleeting grin. A small smirk of her own played over her mouth as she watched the man examine her gladius.

"Five decades?" Her eyebrows rose closer to her hairline; he hardly looked like he was over fifty years old, but Sanabael had no knowledge of his race, so she couldn't rightly say. "I didn't peg you for an old man." Any other questions or comments she had left her mind when he brushed back his cloak to reveal his stump of an arm.

Sanabael's black gaze flickered from the amputated limb to the sheathed sword the blue man carried, then back again. The weapon was huge; using it with one hand was probably no easy feat. Then again, she had no idea how skilled Vel actually was (or wasn't)...regardless, she was somewhat impressed.

With the imminent threat of the man hacking her to pieces having passed, Sanabael sauntered a few steps closer. "Can you actually swing that thing around with one hand? Or is it really just for show?" The question was genuine, but a grin passed over her features as she needled at Vel. "Are we maybe compensating for something?"

She reached up to pluck her gladius back from his hands, having deemed that he'd had enough time to give it a thorough look-over. "If you're so good with that sword, why don't you show me some moves, then?" She gave him a wink, but the words were more of a taunt than a genuine flirtation of any sort.

Perhaps emboldened by the alcohol, for while she was far from drunk the mixed blood was slightly tipsy, Sanabael reached out with a quick movement to give Vellisius a sharp but playful tap on the side with the flat of the blade; it wouldn't be hard for him to block the motion if he wanted to. "Being small has its advantages, you know." Though, Sanabael wasn't used to being small...she was lean, on the slender side, but certainly not short.

She had to admit, she didn't like having to look up at someone. She stood a little bit straighter without even realizing it, lengthening her neck and squaring her shoulders to try and appear taller as she looked up at the blue-skinned man.

[Aer'wyn Grisghul]

How the sound of shattering glass added to the miserable cacophony that was the live of Sunberth. A chime lost in a pile of shake.

As she handed her blade to the Akalak, he seemed almost surprised. What a stupid girl , he thought to himself with a huffed chuckle. If he had been anyone else she’d been left and disarmed at his mercy. What a lucky patch to have ran into a trained warrior and not a blood hungry sociopath.

He stood there, flipping the blade in his hands before taking a step back and letting his singular arm perform a mighty swing well away from where it could make impact with Sanabael. He felt the iron alive the wind unceremoniously. Light, it was. It but no strain on his muscle. Such an easy blade to manipulate was something he was so not used to after years of lighting a weight every time he as preparing himself for battle and when he tried to add a little flourish to his action, he had almost dropped the damned thing. Suddenly he looked a little less graceful, though not at all less handsome.

“I’m not an old man.” He said, handing the little measly weapon back to it’s rightful owner. “I’m only fifty eight. Geez, girl. Way to make a man feel insecure about his age.” Of course from the tone of his voice being all but serious, it was clear that he was joking.

“Come a little closer and see how fast I can take your head off with it using just one arm.” A flash of teeth accented another snide grin. A tap of the blade came at his side that seemed to barely even phase him, softened by a layer of studded leather and the robust musculature beneath the skin. “I can assure no compensation is needed. I suppose I could show you my moves but I’m doubtful you could handle it.”

When close enough was too close, Vel advanced a little further, catching her jaw in a strong grip. Thumb digging into her right cheek, index and middle finger into her left. Sharply he pulled her face up to look at him, hunching over her himself so that he as close enough to smell the alcohol on her breath. If the blade on his back made him look too nice then perhaps this would show her that Sanabael was indeed playing with fire.

As quickly as he did so however, he realised her again and took a couple of steps back. A strong grasp around the handle of the bastard sword freed the weapon from it’s scabbard prison and a flowing swing left it resting by his side, tip pointing to the ground beneath them. In the ferocity of the steel, the red light of the slag heap reflected menacingly. It didn’t take a master to realise the blade was indeed sharp and that the weight of it was no strain on the midnight blue mountain that wielded it.

The smile from his feature hadn’t faded. If anything the Akalak had only brown bolder, if that was even possible. In his icy blue eyes flickers of passion danced. “So what will it be? A friendly spar, or had you changed your mind little girl?”

[Sanabael]

"Big words," Sanabael taunted, though she had no doubt they were true. Her demeanour shifted when Vellisius suddenly moved closer to her; she stiffened, going tense, ready for a genuine fight. His hand shot out, gripping her chin tightly and forcing her head back so that she had to look up at him; she had no doubts his fingers would leave faint bruises in her skin.

A silent snarl curved her mouth, her hand automatically shooting up to curl her fingers around the man's wrist, nails digging into his dark skin; it seemed to do nothing to dissuade him. He held her in his grip for only a moment; his pale eyes were even more startling mere inches from her own. He was close enough that surely he could smell the alcohol on her, almost but not entirely masking the smoky-spicy scent that was distinctly her.

Then, as suddenly as he had grabbed her chin, Vel released her and stepped back again. Colour flooded Sanabael's cheeks, a mixture of anger and embarrassment as she glared at him; she had been caught off-guard, and the sudden shift in tone left her reeling. No doubt it had been a warning to her, letting the mixed blood know exactly what kind of person she was dealing with; letting her know who was in charge. Bring it, then, she though fiercely as she jerked her gaze away finally, brushing invisible dirt off her shirt.

The sound of a blade being unsheathed drew her attention again, and Sanabael watched silently as Vel unsheathed his large sword, the metal glinting dangerously. He seemed to have no trouble handling the blade, even with one hand.

The grin on the man's features hadn't wavered; if anything it seemed slightly wider, with a more vicious edge. Sanabael let out a huff, tossing her head, flicking her dark hair out of her face. "Bring it on then, old man," She teased; clearly, that was going to be a recurring taunt.

She was going to regret her decision, she knew; she had no doubts in her mind she was about to have her ass handed to her. But her pride wouldn't let her back down, and at the very least, perhaps she could learn a thing or two from him.

Sanabael bent her knees slightly, beginning to circle slightly to the left of Vel, her gladius gripped tightly in one hand; her whole body was tensed and poised, ready to spring at a moment's notice. She didn't wait for Vel to move first.

Lunging forward, Sanabael thrust her gladius out, aiming for the same side she had tapped before, except this time the movement wasn't casual or gentle, and she wasn't using the flat of her blade. She hardly had time to register if it hit or not, almost instantly pulling back in preparation to dodge; she was hoping her smaller size would give her an advantage, but then again, it was hard to beat experience.

OOC :

Let the butt-kicking commence! I rolled a 64 for her gladius strike.

[Aer'wyn Grisghul]

Vel watched as her expression shifted from sudden fear to anger to determination. A flare burning in her eyes. An attitude unquenchable by vile tendrils of stinking fear. Her heart was brave. He could see it though the flesh of her posture, like that of a tiger ready to pounce. That too he admired.

Old man. The Sanabael had balls to be throwing insults for this was Vel at his friendliest. One wrong word and he could be a little less friendly. But perhaps to her he was indeed old. To most humans he’d be a grandfather by now. But to the Akalak kind, the adulthood of his life was only just beginning and he had yet many lessons of adulthood to learn. The first being: fighting a determined drunk girl was a bad idea.

As Sanabael circled him like a vulture, Vel didn’t move. Instead he staid where he stood, only the head turning, his blade held at waist level. Feet rooted into the ground. In a fury of adrenaline fuelled movement she darted towards him, blade first in the same direction she had tapped before. Had he not worn armour, she’d have pierced his gut by now for Vel was a little too slow to react.

Swearing loudly he raised his knee but she avoided that also, backing up from him just enough to find herself within the bastard sword’s range. “Go easy, little girl. We don’t want anyone getting hurt now do we?” He breathed, stunned a little that so quickly she was able to get the better of him.

Manoeuvring the blade fluidly he went in for a slice from his underhand, feet stepping forward in the rhythm of battle, and across where her head would be, hoping dearly she’d duck beneath the momentum o the slice where she could block it with her gladus. She was fast enough to do so. If her block was successful, he’d bring his knee to her chest where there would be an opening. If not he’d unleash a series of two slices from either side as the blade tore and spun though the air.
ooc97. Tag, you're it <3