That's one Hell of a Right Hook!

[Solomyn]

【 Cylus 13th, 718 】
Mood: Drunk, Amused
Thoughts: She's going to beat you up!
Company: Grey skin woman
Theme: Marching into the Dark

"Last chance, walk awaaaaaaaaayyyyyy." the wind chimed with a whimsical giggle. The wind was always looking out for him, but knew it was pointless when he was intoxicated.

No, he wouldn't run from her, he couldnt just walk away from something like her. That shadow was clearly not normal, and it bugged the son of famula not knowing what it was. He was more so curious for her sake, as it smelled spiritual in some sense.

“What makes you think I’d want someone like you?” she asked, which raised a brow on his face. Who wouldn't want a man like him? He was physically intimidating, not to mention just how special he was. He smirked, cracking his neck side to side.

"Let's just say I'm not like mortal men, I'm something of a special breed, after all. I mean I did notice your shadow didnt I?" he teased, readying himself for the ensuing fight. The wind kissed his skin once again, allowing one final warning to him. "I like this one, she has his blessing, don't do it."

But it fell on deaf ears as the greyhide woman came charging at him, his body in fight mode. He was starting to sober up and saw the foot coming at him, falling backward like he had tripped over something only to roll back from her. Coming out of the roll, he found himself watching as she sauntered further into the alley, her form almost shimmering in the darkness.

When she back off, he stood and caught his breath. Being drunk really screwed with his focus, and he didnt have anywhere near as much ambient anger stored up to use his power. Her next words made him chuckle, as he stepped closer and closer to her. "Let's just say it peaks my interest is all. I can safely assume that you are not a spirit, that much is certain. That shadow, however, gives me the sense of something otherworldly. It's in my purview to look into it."



"Speech"
"Wind Speech"

[Navyri]

I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;

Not like mortal men. Navyri’s eyes narrowed, but there was a slight reluctance in her body now. Not fear, but intrigue. She hated that he was appealing to her curiosity, but she continued to listen. While others might have scoffed, Nav was not a woman without reason. She had met many beings of great power, spirits and immortals alike. It was possible he was speaking to spare some pain, but with his arrogance, she doubted he knew what trouble he was really in. He could be telling the truth, and with so much liquor in his body, could he give a lie so well rehearsed?

“Special breed?” she laughed at this, “Of what, asshole?”

He continued to walk closer to her and Navyri watched how he carried his weight. What foot he favored, how heavy he stepped. She jumped to the side, where the moonlight failed to touch the stone and her body merged with the darkness. Up the wall she slithered, an invisible darkness that shot out, her feet ramming Solomyn into the chest and sending him off his feet. She backflipped, curling her toes in the slush when she landed, beginning to enjoy this little game, “If it’s in my possession, it’s not yours.” The wings, and shadow included, belonged to Delroth.

They were talking too much. She continued to attack, growing faster in her movements. More tests. Punches at his face, at his stomach. She kept her arms up, steel feathers beginning to line her arms like armor the more she hit. She threw a backhand that caught him disrespectfully across the face and then charged, ramming them both against the wall. Immediately, she saw an opportunity, and grabbed his face with both hands, pressing the tip of her sharpened thumb against his cheek, dragging it against his skin. She drew close, smelling the bourbon on his breath, “Should I carve my name on you now, or later?”

Navyri began to bury her nail in his cheek, her grip a vice as the red blood rose where her touch lingered, “You should know the name of your master, after all.” She smiled and looked into his strange eyes, knowing he would have something to say, and then slammed her head into his nose. Fucker.

All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

[Solomyn]

【 Cylus 13th, 718 】
Mood: Drunk, Amused
Thoughts: She's going to beat you up!
Company: Grey skin woman
Theme: Marching into the Dark

he laughed at her assumption of the type of breed he was, only to jest back at her. "Bitch I might just be a special breed of asshole!" he barked, only to watch her fade away into those damn shadows, only to find himself sent back by a kick to the chest.

Her next sentence made him smirk as he struggled to regain his footing in the slush of snow. The wind was happily giggling at the sight of the mage finding it most amusing, which irritated him at a certain point. She was fervant on not wanting to share the info on that shadow, which only fueled his curiosity more.

Honestly, he knew at this juncture there was no fighting back, let her pummel you till you can find an opening.... if you are breathing that is. He tried to block her hits but with her lithe size and speed, it was hard to read her movements in the dark. It was like she blended into the shadows of the alley, wearing them like a second skin.

With each blow, the numbing pain spread across each limb that was struck. She was a relentless little harpy it seemed, something he would make note of in the future should they ever meet again. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice dealing with her again.

By this time in the onslaught, he felt the force of her body slamming him against the wall, her nails digging into his face. She was talking of branding him, of knowing his master's name. The pain of her thick skull smashing into his face and busting his nose.

It hurt like a bitch, evident by him letting out a sware, but he remained as collected as he could. he refused to show any more weakness in front of this grey skinned hag. He did notice however she hadn't really been paying much attention to the flow of things, being so close to his body with her own.

In a swift motion, his armed flew around her waist, his hands gripping her hips. He couldnt help but laugh, the thudding of the swelling of his face starting to be felt by him at this point. "If you wanted to get close to me monshire' all you had to do was ask, you didn't have to drag me out into the cold air just to get a little heat for that cold heart of yours."

His hold around her began to tighten, putting what strength he could muster into it. using his stronger arm he locked down that hold, putting all he could into holder her still. Raising the weaker one, his left one, he cocked the fist back as far as he could and sent it flying for her face.

If he could get one hit on her in this brawl he would be satisfied with the ass beating that came after.

"Speech"
"Wind Speech"

[Navyri]

I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;

No one’s perfect.

She liked to believe she was damn near close, at least for a mortal woman. With an attractive disposition and a sharp mind, Navyri stood out among the crowd, could take care of herself, and was resourceful, despite her put together appearance. She had clawed her way from having nothing and no one, to being well connected in multiple cities and on the upper end of the wealth pyramid.

But, as it is said - No one’s perfect.

Solomyn’s grabbed her waist and pressed into her hips - she’d have bruises where his fingers dug by morning, his arms wrapping her up and pinning her wings against her back. Most men, when headbutted fell back and were disorientated. This one came forward and clung on. An unexpected turn of events, he held her close with the same relentless snarky attitude and slammed a sloppy fist against the side of her face. Solomyn’s knuckles scraped along the bone of her cheek and she felt the fullness of her bottom lip split, black blood pooling.

She sucked on the skin, eyes flashing as she assessed her situation, “That wasn’t very nice.” It was always a gamble, fighting a bigger opponent in close quarters. They had a longer reach and could control the fight by default, so it was important to attack hard and with precision. Now trapped in his grip, she would need to take back the power. She twisted in his arms but he only tightened his hold on her, squeezing the air from her lungs. Too much of this and he would steal her energy, “First time holding a pretty woman this close?” she managed between fighting breaths, trying not to let her frustration get the best of her. She hated being trapped and her anger was growing, “Fine, if you insist.” she growled, grabbing at his hands.

Her fingers were ice, reddening along with the rest of her exposed skin. The cold was getting to her and while Solomyn was much warmer, she’d be damned if she let this little escapade continue. Navyri focused and the wind blew, sending the tattooed feathers swaying on her arms. Eager to ease his weight from her, she focused, and returned his clinging grip. Solomyn would suddenly feel a lightness to him. His body lost all its heaviness, barely that of a feather, and she took control. Holding onto him, she reared back and then ran at the wall, slamming him beneath her at full force. He was like a doll in her repertoire. Navyri felt the rebound of his bones absorbing the blow, heard his body hit the bricks, and began to pull back without mercy, yanking at his coat. His grip loosened, but she held on. They were done when she said they were done. How many men would have to learn that lesson?

She slammed him against the wall again and again, enjoying the gasping breaths as she stole the air from his lungs. With any luck, she’d break some ribs. Navyri pushed back the dark waves of hair that had fallen into her face and threw him to the ground, clapping her hands together as his weight returned all at once and he was forced to catch his feet or fall into the dirty snow.

Looking down at the drunken man, she smoothed out her skirt, happy to make the call and go back inside, “I win.”

All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

[Solomyn]

【 Cylus 13th, 718 】
Mood: Drunk, Amused
Thoughts: She's going to beat you up!
Company: Grey skin woman
Theme: Marching into the Dark

"it wasn't meant to tickle stupid." he teased as he was satisfied at landing a blow on her at least. Even at such a disadvantage, he found victory in marking that smug face of hers. "I've held those that are far more of a woman than you monshire', don't flatter yourself, I'm not even at half-mast while clutching you." he retorted, watching her squirm under him as his grip on her tightened.

Soon however he would find that the tide he thought he turned was not the case, as this one was far more resilient than he had realized. Most, men & woman alike would have crumbled in his grip, but she was determined, which annoyed him. Somehow she managed to get the upper hand, which to him was a blur, he didnt even notice it till the first slam came to the back of his head against the wall.

It was as the wind had warned earlier, he had indeed lost this fight. But unbeknownst to his opponent, it was more so a win for him. A smirk stuck on his face with each slam, each hit, and with the pain being etched into his body with every trill.

By this time his back was numb, and pain coursed all through his body, his back the epicenter of it all. In a daze he found himself on the floor, the cold of the snow snapping him back to the consciousness he was slipping from. I win. Those words were truly absurd to him given the situation

"I take back what I said, you are a special breed of idiot!" he exhaled, his head falling back into the snow, looking up to the Cylus sky as he let out a chorus of pain laced laughter. She really hadn't realized the ploy he set from the beginning.

"Did it not strike you as odd that I happen to make a deal with you as I did? you wouldn't give me answers outright, so instead, I figured if you wouldn't tell me, I'd investigate for myself. You look like the wiley type, and would probably slip through my fingers, so I decided to make a foolish gamble, knowing I could never win. The one who wins here is me greyhide. Now that I'm your bitch, I can try and figure you out for as long as you have me alive."

His revelation was accompanied by more pained laughter. In all honesty, if she didnt like what he had done, the position he put her in, she could kill him here and now, but the fact she went this far along with him made him believe there was something that was keeping him alive in her midst.

There were no more words, just the sound of pain, the sensation of swelling, and the cold embrace of the snow on his back which was a welcomed feeling. The wind seemed amused by his display, giggling in the breeze that swept by his face. "See I tooooolllllldddddd yyyyyooooouuuuuu! You should have just listened to me Solomyn."

The whimsical voice reminded, snickering which caused the mortalborn to snicker along with it.

"Speech"
"Wind Speech"

[Navyri]

I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;

She paid no mind to his insults after her victory.

Solomyn grumbled and mumbled from amongst the trash and she looked down at him with a special smugness in her eyes. After a monologue, Navyri grinned, “Oh, my,” she lifted a hand and covered her mouth in false fretting, “If only I had seen such a well laid trap! How could I have known such deception?”

She watched him for a moment longer, playing the words of keeping him alive in her head. She could kill him here and now and be done with it. But the innkeep would surely find his body by morning and with their scene inside… The Elements would be called. They would have to be.

In such a case the Warden would step in, or he wouldn't. Why should he? Such folly on her part was a bold jeopardization of his schemes and showing any partiality wouldn’t look good for their partnership. Or maybe it didn’t matter given his command upon the city. The world seemed to bend to his will. Either way, she didn’t intend to find out and looked down at Solomyn, not feeling any sort of desire to really lean one way or the other with his demise. She’d like to kill him, but she had accepted the terms more to kick his ass than to care for his company, “You are so painfully insignificant to me.”

She sighed as if observing the miniscule life of a bug (she didn’t know he was a demigod, after all) and went back inside, beaming a smile at the bartender, “Back already?” he asked, glancing past her shoulder to see if Solomyn would follow.

Navyri flashed a wink and returned to the bar to grab her drink. Her skin was reddened and painful from her scuffle outside, but she felt good, “I told you - Just taking out the trash.”

All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

[Praetorum]

Solomyn

Points: 15 (Can't be used for magic)

Knowledges
Detection: Noticing when a shadow doesn't match the person casting it
Detection: Feeling the Adjustments in another's body motions
Detection: Noticing when someone is upset
Detection: Seeing the anger in someone's face
Investigation: Asking uncomfortable the questions
Unarmed Combat{Brawling}: Kick to the gut
Unarmed Combat{Brawling}: Stick and move
Acrobatics: Dodge rolling from an attack
Endurance: The pain of a physical beating
Endurance: Bracing the cold winds of Cyclus
Endurance: Fighting in adverse weather
Socialization: Not answering someone when they have an attitude
Socialization: Don't call someone a "Special Breed of Bitch"

Loot: None

Injuries:
Minor Concussion - 10 trials
Split lip - 3 trials
Cuts on cheek - 4 trials
Bruise along back - 14 trials
Cracked Rib - 10 trials with treatment, 20 without

Renown: 5 for getting your ass kicked



Navyri
Points: 15 (Can't be used for magic)

Knowledges
Unarmed: The Classic Headbutt
Unarmed: How to Fight Someone with Longer Reach
Unarmed: Use Your Surroundings
Unarmed: Steal Their Center of Balance
Unarmed: How to Draw Your Opponent Closer
Unarmed: Throwing a Proper Punch
Gambling: Keep the Stakes High
Gambling: Winning the Servitude of Others
Gambling: Bet on the Stronger (& Smarter) Fighter
Strength: Liquor Makes you Tough
Endurance: Barefoot on Snow & Ice
Intimidation: Leave Them Bleeding in the Alley
Intimidation: “Take Out that Trash”

A Feather's Weight: Makes Anything Light as a Feather
A Feather's Weight: Activated Through Touch
A Feather's Weight: Useful in Unarmed Combat

Loot: +1 Solomyn, I guess

Injuries:
Bruises on hips - 2 Trials
Split lip - 3 trials
Bruise on cheek - 4 trials


Renown: +5 for kicking Solomyn's ass

Overview
lmao and I thought Yaralon was a violent place.

Navyri's snark and Solomyn's confidence are both so fun to watch, especially when they're clashing, and seeing each of them through the others eyes was really entertaining. Hope to read more from the both of you.



Word Count: 7097