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I, Fareed
Posted: Tue Sep 06, 2022 3:04 am
by Barbatos
Date: Ash 2, 122
What was once a pristine trunk was now a patchwork of bark.
For three months, the sable-skinned man had done his best to make his way. If it were up to him, the noble city of the north would not be his home. And selling violence to the Houses of the city would not be his bread and butter. Yet, the gods seemed to have other plans. With the ethereal decimation of his home, Barbatos had nothing left of his previous life. His family, his loved ones, all he knew was destroyed in a mere matter of hours. Thus, Barbatos made the hard journey north and settled into a new way of life. He did well for himself, all things considered. He earned a home, earned opportunities, and kept his belly satisfied. And, most interestingly, he was no longer alone. Though all had been lost, he had found a friend.
The knife-eared woman called Faelora was different than any he had ever met.
Outside of the fact that he only interacted with humanity within his hometown, Faelora was a woman of mystique. Though both were touched by arcana in differing ways, she embodied something primal. With bones and talismans adorning her person, she was an intimidating sight to behold. Yet, the Sellsword had learned better. From the start, he found a woman who was kind. A woman who enjoyed laughing and was eager to grow in strength. It was for that reason that, though she was a head shorter than he, Barbatos looked up to the Siltori. No matter what the challenge, she pushed forward, just as he attempted to do. Even now, as the rays of morning began to wane into noon, her determination was made manifest.
Their accord was a simple one: Barbatos would teach her how to defend herself in exchange for a full stomach.
Thus, with a bowl of fresh stew in hand, the sable-skinned warrior watched as the Siltori went through the exercises he put together. They were identical to the tutelage he received from his sire years ago. And, unbeknownst to Barbatos, they hearkened back to the old man's days serving the Imperium. Every stroke of the sword Barbatos learned whispered with the Gelerian heritage he never knew, nor embraced. Now, they were being passed down to his first and only friend. The exercise today consisted of "zones" on a tree trunk. Faelora was given a rather heavy branch to wield, similar in weight to his own bastard sword, and was made to strike at zones on the trunk. Each zone corresponding to a different part of the human body.
The intent? Though she was going to learn how to wield a smaller weapon, she would still need the strength to wield something larger in a pinch. Plus, she'd know how and where to strike the enemy when combat arose. Barbatos slurped his meal hungrily as he watched her perform. "Alright, alright, you've earned a break." he said. "You'd best eat before I devour it all."
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Re: I, Fareed
Posted: Tue Sep 06, 2022 4:06 am
by Faelora
I, F A R E E D
2nd of Ash, 122
Sweat trickled down her back.
The Siltori's features were pulled into a deep scowl. Her hair was bundled up into a haphazard bun atop her head. Most of her talismans and charms had been shed, and her mysterious, graceful stillness had been replaced with huffing and grunting as she swung the branch at the tree.
In the moment, she was wrapped in concentration; staring at the mangled bark of the tree in front of her. Although it wasn't a tree that she saw as the witch swung the branch again, it was those men. Every time she aimed for a zone, she imagined it was the ribs of one of her attackers, the chest of the man that had shoved her from the cart, the neck of the one that had approached afterwards, dagger in hand...
"Ugh!"
Her swing went wide, missing entirely and the unpredicted momentum causing her to stumble. Faelora grimaced, gritting her teeth so hard her jaw ached. Blood was pounding in her ears, the rage building within her. Why couldn't she see his face? Why did she always seem to swing wide or miss when she tried to picture that one?
A shudder gripped her slender shoulders, and she hauled herself back to her feet, winding up another swing before here mind had the chance to run away with her. Too many sleepless nights, too many early mornings, waking up, gripping her abdomen. The worst of it was that she woke up begging. That was what made her sick as she drove again at the tree, aiming for the abdomen of her target. How could she? How, after everything that happened, could she beg that man for anything?
The words of her mentor pulled the witch from the swarming thoughts and she dropped the branch with a relieved sigh, wiping her brow as she approached the campfire. Those few steps she spent reeling in her mind, stuffing those thoughts and fears back into their box and sitting on the lid. So by the time she was scooping stew from the pot, she could grin playfully at Barbatos,
"It occurs to me," she began, "that I seem to be doing a lot of physical exertion while you seem to be doing a lot of... sitting around... Taking a leaf from my horse's book, are you?"
She winked at him, before relaxing with a deep sigh of relief as the hearty stew touched her lips. Well-earned, indeed.
Re: I, Fareed
Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2022 12:40 am
by Barbatos
It was easy when the target had a face.
When Barbatos was but a young lad, he too faced down the terror that was the training trunk. At times, there was a semi-formal dummy made out of straw and twigs. But, for the most part, he too swung a stick at a tree in the same manner as the knife-eared woman. During those days, a child's mind wandered quite easily. It was one thing to lecture and illustrate, but to keep their attention was another task entirely. Thus, Barbatos' father gave him a decent piece of advice: pretend the trunk had a face he did not like.
Over the years, his training efforts painted a plethora of faces in his mind's eye. As a child, he pretended to be squaring off against whichever parent had assigned him the most chores. As an adolescent, he pretended to be dueling whomever gave him stink eye among the children his age. And as an adult, he imagined adversaries of the past. Those who had nearly gotten the best of him. Or those who he wished he could fight again. When the training began for his newfound student, Barbatos therefore gave the same advice.
He did not ask who it was she painted as her mental target - but judging from her fervor, it might have been someone deserving of her wrath. As the stew warmed his tongue and journeyed to his stomach, he watched as the ivory-haired woman tumbled. It was shortly thereafter that he advised that she earned a break, to which she looked back at him. A playful grin captured her features as she drew nearer to the campfire which kept the stew warm. Soon, she had a meal that was well-earned.
She quipped, of course, as that was the nature of their friendship. She remarked that he was doing quite a bit of not-sweating, to which he chuckled. "Well, I've already done this lesson." came his reply, alive with sass. "But if you'd like me to expend some effort, let's see if you can make me sweat." He let the innuendo linger in the air for a moment before walking past her. The stew came to rest in his offhand as he took a few steps closer to the tree.
This...he had not yet shared with her. It was something that he kept close to his chest, especially since Zaichaer frowned upon magick that did not go through the Acadamy. But here? With her? He felt...like he could simply be. And thus, focus gripped his mind. His dominant hand rose, as if he was going to reach for the tree's branches - but they were several feet away. But, he extended his will. The power within shrieked without, and he seized a branch from on high. To the outside viewer, it would appear as though a branch snapped off from above and hovered down to his waiting hand.
Barbatos knew better.
With "sword" in hand, he released a pent up breath and faced the ivory-haired woman. "Let's make a wager." he said, tone taunting. "Land one solid blow on me and you'll have one wish within my power to grant. But if you cannot, you'll do push-ups until I get tired." His lips curved into a grin. "Up for the challenge?"
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Re: I, Fareed
Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2022 2:43 am
by Faelora
She thoroughly enjoyed the man's company, perhaps most of all, the mercenary's wit; after all, he kept it as sharp as he did his sword.
Barbatos quipped about having already completed this particular lesson, which drew a smirk from the Siltori. However, it was the words that followed that gave her pause. Her smirk froze in place, her heart quickening and her breath catching subtly in her throat as she gazed at him; the delightful thoughts and flights of fancy taking her mind at the suggestion.
Still standing in place, her eyes followed the warrior as he stepped towards the tree, keenly studying those rippling muscles beneath elegant dark skin.
Amused, and thoroughly intrigued, she watched as he raised his hand. However, the witch's playful attention fell to complete and utter awe as he wordlessly revealed a secret she did not know. Very clearly using magic, the mercenary summoned a branch to his open hand. Her eyes flew wide, her mouth slightly agape as her apparent understanding of his skills was shattered.
Point assuredly made, the man made a playful wager, gleam still in his eye.
Faelora took a moment to shake her head, pulling herself together and approaching him. Much less dramatically than her mentor, she stooped down and collected her branch from the ground.
"Now who wants to make who sweat?" She winked, matching his innuendo.
"Barbatos, I accept your challenge, en garde!"
Sliding one foot back, she balanced her weight slightly back, holding her own "sword" in both hands.
This was going to be interesting.
Re: I, Fareed
Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2022 5:33 am
by Barbatos
The Siltori said nothing at first.
She shook her head lightly, which tousled what little remained of the talismans and charms which typically adorned her hair. Brief, yet confident strides then bore the woman closer until she leaned over to pick up her branch from the ground. His challenge hung in the air, but by her actions it was being answered. Good. This was a golden opportunity. Here, Barbatos intended on seeing just how much of his lessons had stuck. It was a chance to see what needed refinement or reinforcement.
And, if nothing else, she'd walk away with quite the body weight workout afterwards. That thought alone brought no end of amusment to the sable-skinned man, who offered an almost cocky smirk as she winked. Her voice and tone matched his own - their battle of wits was brief, but was followed with intent. "I'll admit, I enjoy watching you sweat." came his answer, alive with snark.
Then, in the instant the words en garde left her lips, she would notice a change in the man's demeanor. Not just his expression, but in the way he carried himself. While typically relaxed in her presence, she would notice tension. Focus.
His hands gripped the branch tightly and held it at the ready. A simple stance whilst his gaze inspected her. Her form was just as he had taught her - but the question was, how well would she maintain it under pressure? To test her defenses, he struck hard and fast: an overhead strike. It was poised to, if unanswered, collide with the top of her head. The instinctive, typical block would see her having to match his strength initially to stop the assault and to attempt a parry.
But Faelora was far from a typical woman, and Barbatos endeavored to keep his wits about him.
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Re: I, Fareed
Posted: Fri Sep 09, 2022 7:14 am
by Faelora
en guarde!
Oh, but he was witty.
The witch bit her lip, her mind momentarily overtaken by an image of herself - rather than the tree branch - being slammed against the trunk and...
No, now wasn't the time.
Their sparring began the moment she foolishly initiated it... and it was almost as over just as quickly. There was something about the shift in the man's composure that aroused her in a much deeper and more intense way than anything he had said or done before. Anyone could flirt with the witch (and a few brave men had tried), but there was something about having Barbatos's battle focus on her that felt more exhilarating than she was prepared for.
She almost missed the overhead strike entirely, barely able to raise her branch in defense. Her own instincts took over; rather than trying to block it, she endeavored to deflect it to the left, side-stepping to the right as she pushed off with her left foot.
But the Siltori herself wasn't very well-balanced, and she sacrificed what stability she had with a quick strike upwards towards the mercenary's side with her branch from the ground.
All in all, her style was a mixture of what she was learning from Barbatos and her natural instincts to dodge and duck. She wasn't nearly as strong as he; and her natural instincts were to avoid strikes or deflect them; to be elsewhere and use their own compromised balance against them. However, she was still very much a novice, and any successful dodge or strike tended to fill her with confidence for which she would pay with her inexperience.
One thing was evident; Faelora was not afraid of bruises.
Re: I, Fareed
Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2022 12:44 am
by Barbatos
The Sellsword was a Wolf.
Though his upbringing afforded him the education of working - and fighting - alongside a group, he was also adept at warring alone. Like those which howled at the moon, his metaphorical fangs and claws were always ready for the hunt. All it took was the right motivation, be it coin, or in this case a challenge, to make him Howl. The Siltori's eager acceptance was just the right push, for focus fell mightily upon him.
His "blade" moved down, crashing towards her frame. In response, the knife-eared woman was barely able to muster a defense in time. Barbatos noted the pace of her reply, for he had anticipated speed being one of her strengths. After all, she was not a towering warrior, nor was she covered in armor. Thus, he expected her to be quicker on the draw.
No matter.
His weight was soon placed behind the branch, attempting to overpower the Siltori. Yet she did not respond with her own strength. As if recognizing that a battle of muscle may have been futile, Faelora attempted to deflect. Her form moved, guiding his branch to fall away from her form in a side-step. If she had been a more practiced opponent, she might have been able to better turn Barbatos' momentum against him. But for a rookie, the tactic was solid.
He allowed his "blade" to fall downward, watching to see her next move. And she did not disappoint. An upward strike was then aimed at his side. The Wolf bared his fangs. Noting that his sword was no actual blade, he used it for the club that it was. He redirected his weapon, launching a mighty swing that deliberately collided with her own branch. The force was enough...that his own branch splintered and broke in two upon impact.
Reduced to wielding little more than a "knife", Barbatos then did what schoolyard lads did - attempt to take the battle to the ground. There was no technique outside of brute force as the Sellsword then pounced after the Siltori, attempting to knock and pin her to the ground.
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Re: I, Fareed
Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2022 1:22 am
by Faelora
While she might look formidable at times, or perhaps even simply too crazy to approach, Faelora squeaked from the sound of the crack of her opponent's branch breaking in two. Although she recovered quickly from the start, it was altogether unnerving how entirely undeterred Barbatos was. Simply switching from one weapon type to another, he continued his advance.
Her heart raced, blood pounding in her ears. She could feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins; that exhilarating sensation driving her on, addictive and primal.
Of course this was a real-world skill with real-world impacts. Already she had been thoroughly exposed to the dangers of travelling without such knowledge and she faced the risk of a re-occurrence every time she left the safety of the cities. Maybe it was just that she was finally given more stimulation than the trunk of a tree, or perhaps it was that she was finding it harder and harder to deny just how much the sable-skinned warrior dominated her thoughts... but she couldn't deny it, the witch was having fun.
Not too much fun, however, as Barbatos himself switched his tactics and with brute-force and surprise as he leapt for her, overwhelming her easily and knocking her back onto the ground.
She went down with a yelp, her own makeshift weapon flying from her hand as her impact with the warrior and then with the ground knocked it free. For a moment she lay stunned, the wind knocked out of her, staring up at a world suddenly shifted out from under her.
Within the next moment, she realised she was pinned, and even if she hadn't had all her strength knocked out of her, she was far smaller than Barbatos and her struggling felt futile even to her. However, her goal was not to free herself entirely. In fact, she wrapped her legs around his waist, hoping to distract him enough for one hand to get free and slide up to her hair. From it she would pull one of her hair sticks, whose destination was the ribs at his side as he held her down. This stick in particular wasn't sharp or sturdy, but rather like their "swords", was a representation of possible weapons.
"... Shall we call it a draw?" She smirked, biting her lip.
While she knew that this hadn't been the point of the lesson, she found herself both addicted to the warrior's attention, and much more concerningly, eager to earn his approval.
Re: I, Fareed
Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2022 1:37 am
by Barbatos
Restraint.
When the Hunt began, it did take a tangible thought to bring the Sellsword back to reality. Battle was an intense stimulus that caused morality to be placed into a separate, mental compartment. He had been instructed by his sire to think this way. In fact, it was one of the fundamentals that he would soon pass down to his ivory-haired pupil. Once blades were drawn, there was no such thing as mercy or negotiation.
And in this case, the Sellsword seemingly had the other hand.
The destruction of his own weapon was enough to catch the Siltori offguard. And through it, the charge into her form was not defied. The yelp of her voice echoed in his ear - and Barbatos' eyes watched as her branch flew out of her hand. She was now disarmed. The Wolf had pinned his opponent and now fang and claw could have its day. But, restraint. Barbatos looked down, his dominant hand briefly raised as if to continue the onslaught.
But the mess of ivory hair gave him pause. The steady rise and fall of her chest as she briefly worked to regain her wind. It...shook him from what he would have had to think about otherwise. It kicked over the box where he had placed himself and dragged it back to the forefront. She was so...he was lost for words. Yet, Wildfire soon ripped across his face. His lips parted, as if to discontinue the bought - yet Faelora moved.
Her legs wrapped about his waist, causing a surprised "What th-" to escape him. His offhand moved, attempting to address her tactic - and thus the distraction worked. Soon, he found once of her hair sticks at his ribs. Which, though it was far from being able to penetrate his skin, illustrated the point. The ivory-haired woman had landed her blow. Barbatos blinked for a moment, then leaned forward. A low chuckle echoed from his lips as he placed a hand on either side of her face - content to keep her pinned for just a moment more.
"I've never felt this before." he began. "Pride...in someone else."
Another chuckle...and wildfire bid him to do things a Wolf like him typically wouldn't. He leaned closer, a mere breath away, and said. "I believe you get to choose your prize."
What are you doing? Rational thought asked.
Barbatos did not answer.
WHAT are you doing?[/i] Rational thought asked, again.
Barbatos did not answer. For the wildfire ripping across his face was demanding he do stupid things. Want stupid things. It was the mere rise and fall of her chest that set this inferno into motion. The splash of her ivory locks which cascaded underneath him. Barbatos leaned forward, dangerously close to stealing for himself just a taste of her lips. Only the thin reins of rational thought kept him from fully diving off the deep end.
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Re: I, Fareed
Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2022 10:07 pm
by Faelora
What th-
The knife-eared woman could not remember the last time she had enjoyed herself so much. She was entirely carried away by the surge of sensations; the pride in her trick, the glee in bringing genuine surprise out in her opponent, the heat rising between them...
It was as though she was catching up on years of existing alone.
The sable-skinned warrior's words only further excited her, the low hum of his voice as addictive as the firm but gentle touch of his hands upon her face. He was proud of her, something she hadn't expected... and had been entirely unprepared to hear. He chuckled, the witch smirking back up at him.
And now she could choose her prize.
The warrior leaned in; his lips barely a hairs' breadth from her own. In that moment, the rest of the world fell away. Nothing else dared interrupt her mind as it carried her well and truly away from her senses. At the same time, every sensation from the man himself seemed to be amplified a hundredfold. The strength of his grip, the weight of his form, the heat from his body and the soft rolling of his breath across her skin. She shouldn't... she should show restraint. After all, once you cross that line, you can't come back.
But if she let him up without finding out; the regret of not knowing would entirely consume her.
"My wish..." she whispered, her voice barely audible and thick with desire, "is to know what this feels like."
She leaned up, her lips meeting with his, pressing against him in a soft, lingering kiss. Her entire body reacted, sparks erupting within her as her heart pounded heavily in her chest. The exhilarating rush, intoxicating and euphoric, erupted in the form of a soft moan in her throat. She allowed herself to remain suspended there, in ecstasy, for as long as he let her, before she would finally pull away.
Her cheeks turned deep red, her gaze suddenly desperate to be anywhere other than on him. She felt... vulnerable, as though a part of her that had never been shared with anyone was now splayed out before him.
"I'm... sorry, I shouldn't have done that." She mumbled.
What was she thinking?!