• PM To Join • What A Wonderful City

[Nightshade Eld]

Ashan 82nd, 719

Yaralon was an interesting place she wasn't entirely sure what to make of yet. It was a city made out those who were born and raised to fight. She hadn't seen a single person is all of the city who wasn't versed in combat. Everyone more weapons and everyone acted like they carved out a spot in the city for themselves. Etzos was a city that was always prepared to be on the brink of war. This though? This was something different entirely. She had a feeling she knew some people personally who wouldn't last a day in a city like this. She wasn't even confident enough to say she was. There was a constant nagging fear in the back of her mind that left her thinking maybe, just maybe, she was out of her element and eventually someone was going to come along and hand her ass to her.

It was a valid fear to have in a city like this!

Right now the woman was wandering around, trying to get an idea for the streets. She'd actually managed to find a place to stay the other day that was easily within her price range (most things at this point were) and as such she'd left her wing armor there. For now, she just had her talon boots and her sword, which was far less than most of the other people around her had. Some looked extravagantly powerful and she felt small being in the same area as some of these mercenaries.

It was imposer syndrome all over again. She wasn't good enough, she really wasn't. She never really understood why or how people ended up having faith in her, but most of the time she really felt like it went unfounded. Standing here and now surrounded by people who looked and seemed better than herself, she didn't feel good enough anymore. It scared her so badly.

Perhaps she shouldn't have come. It wasn't too late to turn back. She did make sure to bring her portal books with her so that she could flee back to Etzos immediately should the need arise. She'd found them during her trip to Scalvoris and they'd come in handy when it came time for her to return. She'd brought them along with her, just in case. Hopeful that she wouldn't need them but ever the realist. She really hoped nothing would go wrong...

"Common"

"Ith'ession"

[Aegis]

Timestamp

She watched as the winged woman walked by, her cold eyes not even attempting to hide their piercing nature. She could smell the fear coming off of her, she could see the turmoil building within. But more importantly, she saw the sword that the winged woman carried. Her eyes took in all the little details, and she was able to determine that this woman had a true way with the sword. The way she carried her shoulders, the way her feet moved and hips swayed, the callouses on her hands, the movements around the sword as though it were a part of her and not merely an addition.

It was about time she found someone.

She stepped out into the street, and followed behind Nightshade, not attempting to conceal her presence, a smirk upon her face. She'd follow in this way until Night noticed her and turned, and if she didn't, "Hey. Wings." Regardless of how she got Night's attention, she walked up to the winged woman, staying just out of arm's reach. She cocked an eyebrow at the woman, "You dare to walk around with a weapon like that? Your kind is forbidden to carry weapons."

She tapped the pommel of her own longsword. It was not elaborate in appearance, simple and effective. "Lay down your weapon, and you will not be imprisoned. Resist, and we'll have to take you by force." At the word 'we', several archers with wolfish features crawled out from their hiding places on the roofs around the pair.

And the woman just smiled.

[Nightshade Eld]

Nightshade was not an oblivious creature. She'd spent nearly her entire life living in constant fear. As a child, if it wasn't the Master then it was Ivan. When she got older it was the constant threats that came with living in the forest that kept her on alert. Then In Etzos, it was the dangers the citizens possed to a half-breed. She wasn't jumpy per se but the winged woman was constantly aware of her surroundings at all times, both as a victim of multiple cases of abuse and as a trained swordswoman. Her constant awareness was on two different levels, both of which fine-tuned to always be looking for danger. The first awareness was more so tuned towards dangers posed to others, in respect of her duties as a Tairthir. Her secondary awareness was for dangers which might possibly be pointed towards herself. Not even really dangers, but anyone who had some kind of intent towards her. Malicious or ambivalent.

Feeling the pinprick of a gaze pressed against her shoulder was a difficult task, but it was one that she picked up on quickly when her follower started to pursue her at a distance. It took her a couple of moments to decide what to do. She could always flee if she was feeling particularly threatened. Somehow she didn't feel a decision like that would be wise. In a city such as Yaralon, she figured it might be safest to address the problem head-on. Turning on her heels she looked at the woman, initiating eye contact, a question in her gaze. The strange woman strode towards her but stayed at arms length, the look on her face making the half-breed feel uncomfortable immediately.

This woman wasn't a novice by any means. She could see a high level of skill and understand when it came to a blade. The same kind of movements she had picked up from Nightshade, Nightshade picked up from her. She wasn't someone to underestimate, that was for certain. She was already analyzing the movements of the other woman, watching for weaknesses. It was one of the things she was good at. Delivering deadly or disabling blows at the start of a battle if given the time to watch her foe. She didn't want this to turn into a fight, but she would protect herself if she had to. If it turned into a fight, it would turn into one she couldn't hold back on either. It was subtle, but the way she presented her nature seemed to shift.

The fear and hesitation evaporated seemingly immediately, her focus changing entirely to a careful analysis. Could she beat this woman if it came down to a fight? Why might it come down to a fight? Was the woman acting like she might have special tricks up her sleeve? Magic? Blessings? Nightshade had tricks but she'd rather not use them. While Celarion was obvious on her arm it was only a single glowing band. Taithir was a different question entirely, the mark covered by a single fingerless glove that rested on her left hand. Nightshade was ambidextrous now, but she was born left-handed, so that is where the mark was placed and where it remained. Then the other woman decided to speak.

She listened carefully, watching the woman as she spoke, trying to pick apart every single thing the wingless one said. "Lay down my arms?" She parroted, her tone thick with disbelief. There... there were so many things wrong with that statement. The first of which being that this was the first she'd heard of such a law. She'd arrived fairly late the other trial, but she'd been in town long enough that she surely would have been accosted much earlier by someone else if she wasn't allowed weapons. How could no one at the gate tell her? It just felt wrong to her, unnerving, and she tried to pick apart the woman's words to find some trace of a lie. Nightshade was good at detecting lies. People lied to her all the time. This other woman would have to be damn well convincing if this was a lie.

In addition, there was the reaction of the crowd around them. It didn't feel like they were watching an arrest. Instead, they stood quietly as though waiting for something. Yaralon was a different place than Etzos, that was enough to be certain of. Generally though in most towns when someone gets arrested people like to stand around and gawk, tutting quietly. There was a certain aura of demeanor when it came to watching something like that which the present situation lacked. It felt more anticipatory in a way she couldn't necessarily place, which just further set her on edge.

Nightshade wasn't born yesterday. There were still even more factors that made her feel like this was all an elaborate ruse. She'd met Yari in the past, quite a few ended up in Etzos looking for jobs. She'd met some with silver circles and some with gold, she'd heard their stories about grand battles and culture. She didn't know much about the culture in particular since stories of battle were often a favorite of visitors. Certainly not enough to figure out what the woman across from her was probably attempting to do, but she knew enough to know the situation was off. She knew enough to tell that this was strange. In a city of warriors where weapons and duels stood out as a grand display, why ever would someone demand she lay down her arms? Yes, people were racist against Avriel, but she could have sworn she was once told that people without weapons or combat skills could be ostracised. It felt contradictory, and that made her uneasy.

Then the final piece fell into place. The woman spoke once more and archers appeared. Yeah, this didn't feel right to her. Even if she wasn't aware of the culture to some degree, she would have felt uneasy about this as a Taithir. It felt dirty and dishonorable for some reason, whatever these people were trying to do. It made her all the tenser as arrows were aimed at her as a warning. The way that the archers themselves looked, their features, her blood started to flare in her veins, the pounding of her heart howling in her ears. Her thoughts shifted from just analyzing the woman in front of her to analyze the situation. How could she get out of this?

There were archers pointing weapons at her, but she had at least a couple bits immunity from them to get away should worst come to worst. Taithir allowed her the ability to flee, to protect herself if all things went wrong. She was a shieldbearer, after all, she was never without protection. Of course, she'd rather these people be lying and she'd not have to flee the city she'd just arrived in. She didn't fancy a criminal record. She should have worn her wing armor. Too late to have regrets she supposed. With a sigh, she quickly muttered a phrase under her breath. "Lady of the Shield, may my actions be just and righteous in this account. Should I make the wrong decision guard my soul and know me to be mortal. Forgive and have pity." In the words she'd grown to know so well over the years she muttered the prayer for herself and Ethelynda alone.

There were other ways she could protect herself as well, but she'd rather it not come to that.

"No way, you're trying to con me. I refuse," she said. Her left hand came to rest on the hilt of her blade in case this did devolve into a fight. Her heart was pounding in her ears but she was used to keeping her composure in such situations. She just hoped she picked correct. If she was wrong and the archers attacked her then she would activate her abilities and protect herself. If she was right... well, Yaralon was a city of duels from every story she'd ever heard. Maybe she'd be able to hold her own.

"Common"

"Ith'ession"

[Aegis]

Timestamp

At Night's refusal, the woman cocked an eyebrow curiously, as though this was the expected outcome but she was still surprised by it. "Very well." Fast as a snake, her sword was drawn. It was a simple, well crafted longsword, with just a hint of crimson tinge in the blade. She held it in a lowered, readied position, her knees bent, her eyes locked onto Nightshade's.

The archers all stashed away their arms, the ruse successful. They stepped off the roofs, hopping down, as people began to turn and gather, chattering amongst themselves, laughing and smiling. A duel was often an exciting occasion for those in Yaralon, and one had been started, here and now. But this wasn't just any simple duel by Yaralon standards, not one that would be used to settle differences, and not one that would require a Darstrion be found. No. This was not a standard duel whatsoever.

This was a proposal duel.

Nightshade's declination meant the duel now began. This made her The Ethel, while her opposite was the Raskal. And this duel could only be ended in a few ways. If the Raskal were to die, Night would be held in honor, having defended her desire to not be married to this challenger. If the Night were to die, Night would maintain her honor but have lost her life. If Night were to be rendered unconscious or yield, she would be considered engaged to this woman, and viewed dishonorably, for being too weak. And if the duel ended in a draw, as determined by the participants, then the proposal was accepted, and both parties viewed honorably.

So people looked on happily, smiling, talking amongst themselves on how they thought the duel might go. Both women were not well known in Yaralon, or known at all for that matter, so it was best guesses. And it seemed to be evenly split. The woman winked at Night before sprinting forward, fast enough that few would be able to follow the motions. But Night's eyes were not those of a commoner, trained over the arcs, able to keep up. Her opponent was fast, so terribly fast. And the sword came in a low stab, coming upward, aiming toward Night's left shoulder. Her opponent's weight also shifted forward, going heavy onto her leading left foot.

!	Message from: Aegis
	Night is now in a combat scenario. Act accordingly. Smaller posts are understandable due to this.

[Nightshade Eld]

The half-breed wished she could say she was shocked when it turned out to be an elaborate display of some kind. The archers put away their weapons and slipped into a slowly forming crowd. She wished she could say she was shocked, but she really wasn't. Now she could only try and deal with the situation presenting itself in front of her. It was... an interesting one to say the least.

On one hand, this woman had acted dishonorably and tried to trick her into what she was starting to guess was a proposal given the mutterings she was hearing around her. On the other, did she really want to kill this woman just for that? It was a conundrum to the half-breed with only two ways out that seemed vaguely acceptable to her. This... this was going to be more complicated than she needed it to be. What in the world had she managed to get herself into?

Of course, the woman just had to aim for Night's left shoulder. She moved like she was left-handed, didn't she? She once again found herself wishing for her wing armor, but there was little she could do about it now. Instead of trying to draw her sword with her left hand, quick as she could she drew her blade with her right, letting the familiar weight of Lovestruck rest in her hand. Red Brand was growing old and couldn't be trusted to stay in one piece, but Lovestruck was a relatively new adamantite blade.

This woman moved faster than most fighters Nightshade had dealt with in her life. Keyword being most. She'd seen people who moved at a similar speed. Once upon a time, her father had moved that quickly. He was the most terrifying person Night ever saw pick up a sword. Besides, it wasn't really about the speed now was it? It was about the fluidity of movement. The actions of her enemy were fluid, well practiced and well rehearsed, which made them look fast. The half-breed's own actions were just as well practice.

She flung herself backward as far as she could manage while simultaneously bring up her blade to block the blow as well as she could, buying herself those precious extra trills. She allowed air to pass through her teeth while she braced against the attack. The sound of metal clashing together wasn't something unfamiliar to her. In fact, quite the opposite. It was almost relaxing to her in a way, it had always been such a constant in her life. She felt her nerves settle as rhythm and logic came together, urging her own body to move just a little faster.

Quickly as she could she delivered her own counter-attack, leaning back forward and trying to use her scimitar to push her enemy's blade away. She didn't try to strike out with her sword. No, instead he swept her leg outward in the hopes of scoring an attack across her foe's leg with the deadly blades attached to her feet.

Unarmed combat might be for the bedroom in Yaralon, but what about Talon Blades? Perhaps bringing the serrated blades with her was a good idea.

She made sure to always remain aware of the position of her foe's sword and if her enemy had more than one weapon on her. She refused to leave herself open to attack. She was worried she would only have control over her enemy's sword for a couple of moments though, so as soon as she was done making an attempted slash at her foe with her talon blades she used her wings to propel herself backward.

"Common"

"Ith'ession"

[Aegis]

Timestamp

The woman was smiling as she saw how quickly her opponent was able to draw her sword and retreat. Her opponent's sword didn't waver under the strength of her own, and, in fact, it seemed as though the winged woman were enjoying this. Yes, the woman had picked a fine mate for this proposal. As the kick came, the woman did not retreat, but rather stepped in forward as the blades scored across the back of thigh, weakening her footing a bit.

But it put her in close, the two woman face to face with crossed blades between them. And with the gap closed, the headbutt came, catching Night in the high bridge of her nose. This was lucky, had it been a bit lower, had Night not scored that slicing kick, there would've been enough strength there to break it. Instead, it was a disorienting blow, but not one to completely incapacitate.

Night's wings, either on instinct or with purposeful intent, sent her fluttering backwards out of reach, and her opponent skipped back as well. The murmurs in the crowd were those of impressed spectators. These people were skilled enough to at least see that it was a close and even match. Just as a good marriage proposal should be.

The woman settled back into an open stance, her sword kept low, pointed to the ground. And she was smiling, not one of cruelty, but one of pure bliss. She was in her comfort zone, just as Night was. A flick of the wrist and an upward swing of her arm flashed before the crowd, well out of reach of Night. The winged woman's eyes and battle senses were sharp enough to see it coming when few others could. There was a slice of air coming through toward her, faster than the sound that it was generating. Night had but an instant to react before it sliced her from right hip to left shoulder.

And just after that seemingly magic blow was sent Night's way, there was the crack in the air, similar to the sound of the whip from where the cut broke the sound barrier. And with that crack, Raskalarn was charging forward again, sword raised across her body for a sideways chop into Night's left ribs.

!	Message from: Aegis
	Night is still in a combat scenario. Act accordingly. Smaller posts are understandable due to this. Also do try to be specific on such things as left leg or right leg, etc.

[Aegis]

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