But it's My Life, I'm Takin' Back What's Mine

[Finn]

There wasn't time to be pleased with the tiny victory. His training with the Vigilia included tactics and history, which he found fascinating. Winning an advantage was not the same as winning a match. Winning a battle was not the same as winning a war. Though they were merely practicing with their blades, injuries were still possible. Of course, anything they were likely to accrue here would be easily fixed by one of the many healers in both the Luxium and the Umbrium.

It had been a risk. Turning as he had to wrest the weapon from Palaemon's hands had opened his guard, but as the elf dodged backward, bladeless, Finn's exposed side was safe for the nonce. And so he didn't slow his torque.

Perhaps he had missed the rules of engagement, but when Aeros had begun the match, Finn didn't know what the goal was—to first contact, to first blood, or to some other goal. After a year in Solunarium, he only knew that he knew nothing when it came to their culture. Sometimes they were surprisingly inflexible in their ideas of honor; sometimes they were more bloodthirsty than he had imagined. They valued ambition, dominance, and strength. Even the power granted by Deus Aværys was a test: whether Finn would use it to rise, or whether it was merely enough rope to hang himself was up to him.

But if Aeros was disarmed, surely that was an end to the round, at least. Of course, the Custodes Deorum had a file on Aeros, so Finn was aware that turning his back on him might earn him a spell in the back, but this was just bladework. This—

The unveiled Sentinel felt a thrill through the slipspace even as he saw the khopesh begin to rise. Oh. Apparently magic was within the purview of the bout. Reacting on instinct, he brought his own blade down hard, knocking the khopesh back to the flagstones. Then, he brought his boot down upon it so it couldn't fly back to its bondsman. He hoped Aeros hadn't intended to call the blade through his body. He hoped his body weight was enough to keep it grounded. He hoped that was enough for Seværys to call the point.

Finn felt a prickle across his brow, and then what felt like the onset of a raging headache. The rage, though, he recognized as Khyan's. The spirit of vengeance sang to him, urging him to take up the ghost's pact weapon and destroy it. A shattered pact would shatter Aeros, at least temporarily, inciting an uncontrollable lust for violence, berserker rage, and madness. If he didn't come back from that, he could—well, die. Again? But then, that was what the remains of Vinicius Nykara Khyan desired; that was all he desired.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

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It was, for certain, an oversight to have not been specific about what the goal was and the precise parameters under which they were to fight– Æros’ initial intent upon showing up today was simply to lose to Seværys repeatedly and hopefully, from that, learn something. The ghost did wonder if, when Finn chose to disarm him, that perhaps the man had thought all magic was off limits, when, in his mind, it was everything except Reaving. There was the passing realization that the idea he had in his head was not the same as the other. And while normally he would've been happy to have clarified before the duel's incipience, the Kalzasern native's appearance had been a surprise that had caused his thoughts to jumble a bit.

Æros had, before the match, blunted his blade enough with Morphosis such that it would not have been a mortal, or even remotely severe, injury to Finn if it had struck him. He was also far too weak a Reaver to do anything at all once the man stepped on it. Perhaps if his skill with the rune were stronger, his aetheric grasp on his khopesh would be enough to rip it from beneath the other's foot– alas, that was not the case.

If the deceased patrician were going to utilize other runes, he had Elementalism at his disposal for both offense and defense as well as Masquerade for utility– but that wasn't the point of this duel, and he also wasn't interested in subjecting Palæmon to Finn's other runes; Æros couldn't exactly say which ones the man had access to, so that was a gamble he was unwilling to take.

And thus, with his blade being taken and pinned to the ground, he raised his palms in surrender. “Well, without going beyond Reaving's repertoire, I'm at your mercy now– my unarmed combat is abysmal,” he said with a breath of laughter.

“—more that that's where I draw the line,” Palæros spoke again, this time taking an entirely different tone and demeanor. “Æros is more tenacious than I,” he clarified.

Still, Palæros came across as easy going both times he talked, though this was a mask veiled over the Symphonies of both souls; the ghost was actively fighting his nerves, and he would remain as such ‘til that blade returned to his hand. Palæmon thought him a fool for agreeing to this, but that was beside the point.

- - -

"Vallenor"

"Vastien"

"Valasren"

"Common"

[Pharaoh]

Seværys was beginning to lift his hand in a gesture that would never be completed, as Palæmon's words rendered it irrelevant. Victrian grimaced, producing a pouch of coin and removing a few Aværyan Avens, which were offered to Seværys.

"Mea maxima culpa..." He sighed, "I expected our countryman to be the ruthless one, but it seems the Northerner has more mettle than I anticipated. I lose our bet."

Seværys gave a warning look to Victrian,

"Keep your coin. I never took your bet, and you were a fool to make it. 'The Northerner' is a trained Sentinel and 'our countryman' is struggling to command one body housing two souls." Victrian snarled in annoyance as Sev's attention turned to the combatants,

"You both fought well under the circumstances. Finn, please release the pact weapon to its master." He stepped onto the mat and regarded them both.

"I noted that both of you applied the skills of your former lives, incorporating them into combat. The saltator and the musicus made themselves known. I see that your Reaving is in a similarly nascent state, and both of you could use more time and training to master your bladework. You owe it to your arms to wield them well and a pact weapon deserves to be brandished by a master." He turned to Palæros,

"In you I see a creative soul. Your instinct to call back your blade was sound and came quickly to you. It might have been artful, had you the skill to complement the impulse. I fear part of you was averse to this match. Can you speak as to why you yielded when you did?" He turned to Finn, pausing and parting his lips slightly.

"You... surprised me. While my discerning Craft cannot pierce your Sentinel wards, still I have a sense that there was something pushing you beyond Ambition. I don't know that it improved your learned or natural skills, but it certainly gave you the edge in terms of drive. For a moment I feared I might need to intercede..." He said, perhaps clarifying the purpose of the gesture he'd started to make before Palæmon's surrender.

"What was going on there, Sentinel?"

Victrian, for his part, was silently observant. Palæros would know this to be an unusual state, but his attention was firmly fixed upon Seværys as he went through his assessment of the spar.

[Finn]

As soon as Aeros' hands came up in surrender, Finn's blade was angled into a state of rest as he straightened out of a martial stance. He observed the banter blandly, unsure of this Victrian, ergo unsure of his goals here. At Seværys' request, he stepped back from the battered khopesh so Aeros could complete his earlier design. He nodded and offered a tight smile for the praise. The sunborn prince confirmed what he knew: he would have to master his blade, not just for the Sentinels, but for the Rune, and to not dishonor the weapons and souls bound to him. He hadn't expected to become a warrior, nor a politician—or, at least, the affianced of a powerful politician—but here he was. Vicis would brook no erring from the grand pattern.

When the telling question came, he could not help but pause. It seemed wrong somehow to speak of Khyan before the one the vengeful spirit blamed for his demise and current hell, and he was not wont to speak of his relationship with Aværys save with those who had one similar. His gaze dropped as he sighed.

"There is one in my thrall who seeks Aeros' ruin," he admitted. "His desires can be distracting."

That would have to suffice. Where the law of the land had ended with Khyan at death, the divine law had claimed paramountcy. Shæoth may have claimed him, but Finn still had a tether in his tormented friend. Now it was Finn's responsibility to seek Khyan's freedom and eventual journey with the Grimlord to the place alotted the dead.

"It shames me that you saw the struggle. I will not lose control of him." He said it without words of promise, but it held a similar gravitas on a bard's tongue.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

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It might’ve required of Æros more restraint to not have rolled his eyes at Victrian’s comments were he not sharing this corpus with another whose natural impulses served to steer him away from doing so. Victrian’s jeering was a regular occurrence, and because of that, he couldn’t readily be sure, even, if this supposed bet was something he’d fabricated in the moment specifically for this jab or if the man had really wanted to put money on them. That’d have actually been surprising. Funnily enough, though, Victrian would've actually been right had Finn and Æros been complete strangers– the spirit was no stranger to viciousness.

Nevertheless, the match’s actual arbiter did interject afore either Sælyan need say a word.

A range of emotions passed through both parties present to Palæros with regards to Seværys’ words; they were at first an evaluation, but quickly segued into a testament to the man’s observation skills. This was not a surprise– Seværys’ mind was sharp, they knew this– more that Æros knew not what to say at first. Palæros’ lips parted as if to speak, but he paused, palpably hesitant.

An expression of deep thought flashed over his features, or maybe it was…conflict? Likely, the two within couldn’t agree on what to say, but then, Finn spoke first, clarifying, if vaguely, what it was that had caused Palæros, both of them, to pause. Now, Æros knew of the connection that Khyan and Finn had forged between themselves prior to the former’s demise– he knew that it had persisted, too, but it was news to him that it did bear such influence on the mind of the living half.

He took a deep breath, then exhaled, willing his khopesh back to his hand. Before he said anything, he spun the hilt 'round till the blade pointed both behind him and down.

"Your words are a kindness, Sev– sincerely. Would that I'd more time to push the potency of my Reaving 'fore I passed," this was said lightly but felt deeply.

“But he speaks true,” Palæros continued in reference to Finn, and though he tried to maintain his previous tone, he sounded pained now, his smile more resembling a sneer– observant parties would realize that, altogether with the conflict in his eyes, the expression on his face was a cross of shame and embarrassment.

“Coming back from death is, perhaps unsurprisingly, a complicated affair– and it was a feat that, as I’ve claimed before, was not done on my own.” He almost looked apologetic, his gaze moving from Seværys to Finn.

“That is just another piece of such a divinely complicated puzzle.” And as was typically the case on this subject, he'd elaborate no further on finer details.

Normally, both Palæmon and Æros actually each loved to talk when it suited them– but about this, it would appear, they’d both much prefer to bite their tongue.

“And Finn, I…” moments like these, Æros wished he could just reach the Symphony of the other to convey his meaning, but such as things were, “...I appreciate the restraint.”

“He also wishes to convey his regrets with how he snapped at you some time ago– but the man’s pride is a bit of a pox,” Palæros continued– he sounded sincere with regards to Finn, if a bit flippant towards the ghost in the latter portion of the sentiment. “And I, too, appreciate the restraint.”

It was one thing to be saddled with the spectre of one’s most troubled cousin, but another entirely that he was haunted, effectively, by two spirits. Palæmon was a man who saw no benefit in harboring bitterness, so he didn’t– but that didn’t mean he wasn’t himself deeply troubled by the reality of it all.

- - -

"Vallenor"

"Vastien"

"Valasren"

"Common"

[Pharaoh]

“You would do well to remind this ‘Thrall’ who serves under whom. Such influence does not encroach upon you uninvited, though this interloping presence speaks only more to your drive to dominate.” Seværys observed with interest. Victrian leaned against a column on the edge of the matted portion of the floor, his pale eyes lingering on Finn as the former Tribune turned his attention to Palæros.

“Speaking of conflicting wills, you will need to come to an internal accord if you are to survive in a real combat situation. Palæmon, your reluctance was the biggest hurdle I noticed in the spar. You would do well to learn more of combat or, failing that, allow the superior warrior to dominate in scenarios of physical conflict. You lack Æros’ killer instinct. There is a ruthlessness to him that you lack. Despite what I said earlier, Victrian was not a complete fool to bet on Æros. His mistake was in forgetting to take Palæmon into account.”

“Well, thanks for that I suppose…” Victrian inserted archly.

Seværys lifted both eyebrows at the apology posted to Finn, turning away and taking a few paces toward Victrian as if to offer some semblance of privacy for a moment that felt sensitive to intrude upon.

With that out of the way, he cleared his throat and pivoted round to face them again, extending both arms to either side as if presenting himself in a newly tailored tunic. But in a flash both hands were holding matching blades.

“Now, I shall test your defences.” He released his grip on both swords, which levitated to a place between Finn and Palæros, taking up positions as if being wielded by invisible soldiers, on poised to vie with each of them.

“Use whatever magicks you have at your disposal. I will not hold back, but I will be wielding both blades independently so take advantage of my split focus. If you’re struck, reset. If you defend against ten consecutive attempts, you pass muster. I will continue until each of you has done so, resetting each time a strike is landed. And, go!”

Both blades reared back in concert and slashed toward the two figures on the mat, as Seværys turned his back on them and casually stalked toward Victrian, while his swords danced in feverish opposition to the young combatants. The contrast between Sev’s laidback demeanour and his weapons’ ferocity was striking enough that Victrian audibly laughed.

[Finn]

Finn nodded at the apology. His knowledge of the affair was still ragged with holes despite his access to the Custodes Deorum reports, and it didn't help that even with Khyan's will subsumed to his own, the spirit's burning desires were not unknown to him. But he would have to learn better control, lest Khyan insidiously insert bloodthirsty songs into his symphony.

When Palaemon chimed in, he offered a small smile and, "Wouldn't want to cause a civil war."

But he didn't delve deep into the past, not wanting to make Seværys uncomfortable lest this training session have the opposite effect that he wished. The shift of gens Val'Saelyan to the Luxian throne made things more complicated, but then, Finn was maintaining a household in the Luxium, making social connections with Luxian princes, so perhaps some of the damage could be mitigated. If Thalya and Zalkyriax went to war, it wouldn't be his fault.

Soon enough, Seværys was back with a new challenge.

The first slash was bold, but easily blocked. It quickly changed tactics, however, and soon it was giving him a run for his money despite Seværys splitting his attention between two blades, two opponents, and whatever was going on with the mysterious Victrian. He lost count of strikes blocked, parried, or otherwise evaded. There were a few strikes that landed, in any case, and restarted the count. But he wasn't counting those, he was counting the music, like a metronome and a martial song in his head. Either they would stop at ten consecutive successful defenses, or they would not. In either event, he would have to defend himself.

Perhaps nobody would notice over the ring of steel on steel, the grunts, the sounds of feet on floor and bodies in motion, but Finn was quietly humming. Khyan faded away; not gone, as the object of his unending ire was near, but not vying for Finn's attention, as Finn was not vying with Aeros.

He was vaguely aware, at least, of Aeros and his blade, as well as Seværys' other blade; there was no telling if one of those might be turned against him. But eventually, unsure of his score, he attempted a coup de grâce. While he hadn't know the rules versus Aeros, he knew the rules versus Seværys. He also knew that Solunarium would laud the man who took the rules into his own hands, reshaped them, and succeeded.

And so, when he felt he had the best opening, he vaulted right behind Seværys, arms attempting to close on him, one to hold, and the other to hold his blade to the elven prince's neck.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

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Palæros returned Finn's look with a wan smile and a short laugh, “aye– splintering above and below further apart is the last thing I want.”

Æros was glad that the subject didn't drag further– and he hoped that, in the future, he'd be able to mend and maintain at least something of a friendship with Finn.

The next challenge laid out by Seværys was an interesting one, and he was keen to embark on it– anything to keep his mind on the present, really.

Æros, once again, took lead of the body and immediately appeared to split his form into three– he created two perfect-seeming simulacrums of himself that would bob and weave Seværys' strikes just as the real thing would. Of course, for sake of fairness, he only counted his personal dodges towards the proposed challenge, but all the same, his point was to do exactly as Seværys: take advantage of his split focus.

When an illusion was struck, the blade would pass through it, thus giving away its false nature. To keep his opponent guessing which one was true, however, he'd periodically regroup with his clones and send them out again as well as employing other enchantments which affected one's vision ranging from cloudy to black fog, bright lights, luminescent glitter, and so on.

Orchestrating this magical dance took a lot of Æros’ focus, but he did strive to keep something of a tab on Finn, too. It did not escape his notice when the human lunged for Seværys, and, while he was sure Finn's goal was not to sincerely harm him, he made the snap judgment to test his reflexes and attempt to stop him. Likely guards might intervene, but perhaps he could get there first; he was, after all, closer.

Utilizing both a gust of elemental wind and his own alacrity, Æros rerouted his movement and propelled himself closer to both Finn and the royal. In an attempt to split the two apart, the ground beneath them would erupt and a thin wall of earth would emerge, pushing them apart yet leaving both unharmed.

- - -

"Vallenor"

"Vastien"

"Valasren"

"Common"

[Pharaoh]

"I'm going to call for tea. Shall I have them bring a cup for you?" Seværys inquired of Victrian, as the percussive clangour of bladework sang behind him. His assaults were cobra quick, and ferociously forceful. Mundane muscles would have tired quickly if his arms were held aloft by arms rather than æther. As he beckoned to a servant, Æros would find his simulacra unacknowledged by Sev's onslaught, which continued to focus upon the bona fide article. When the illusory figures were pierced, it seemed to be only coincidental.

He did shift his body back so that he could see more than merely sense what was happening on the mats. It was only then that he realised what Æros was doing and why his Æther Sense was registering something other than the two combatants.

"Nice try, Æros, and well done yielding the body up to the combatant, Palæmon. Some opponents will be more reliant upon their sense of vision, but I am not one of them. Try something else."

"Did you want black tea or herbal, Sev darling?"

"Herbal."

"And I'll have black." Victrian informed the servant, punctuating his order with a dismissive wave as he returned his attention to the spar. As Finn vaulted, Victrian yelped, but Seværys didn't flinch. The most stark discernible reaction one might note from the Sol'Aværys prince was that the blade that had been focused on Finn tumbled to the floor behind where he appeared. At this proximity, Finn would see a slight distortion in the air around Seværys... rather like the way heat seemed to warp one's vision on a balmy day in the desert. His blade would reach no farther than the where that effect began to appear.

All at once, Æros was upon them and Sev's second blade fell. The shifting stone beneath his feet actually was enough to give the prince a start, and he extended his Kinetic barrier to prevent Victrian from being pushed against the wall as he himself slid back, gritting his teeth as he dug his heels in.

"Enough!" He called out, with a good-natured chuckle. "That will suffice. Improvement from both of you. My notes were taken from the first bout. Æros? Hone your senses and use every one that is available to you. Assume your opponent is doing the same or your underestimation may yield you another death, and Finn? You're too nice. This is combat and you had my express permission to use any magic available to you. I am given to understand you possess a Craft that very few people in the world would be capable of offsetting: Myself included." He smiled, "I supposed that is something I shall have to work on. Now then." He clapped his hands together once.

"I've just called for tea. Why don't we retire and allow someone to, uhm... repair the floor for the next spar?"

[Finn]

Review

Experience: 15 xp for use at your discretion; moderator XP and snaps for Pharaoh. *snaps*

Injuries: Nothing major.

Loot: N/A

Notes: As this hasn't moved in nearly a season, I'm reviewing it. Hope to see more of those NPCs!