Wall Flower of the Crescent Arena (Graded)

[Woe]

20th Vhalar 719

Woe had been spending time at the Crescent Arena, looking at the various trades on offer. There were all manner of weapons to purchase, various materials on offer. Woe wanted something that would get him started, yet prove durable enough for the abuse of a novice user. Nothing spoke to him, until he reached the swords table.

Before, his only experience in combat had come in the form of whips, corporal punishment of stationary targets. It wasn't the most sporting of fighting arts, tying someone up so you could flog them. Thus he'd not had a chance to advance his expertise.

Yet, if the war had taught him anything, it was that fighting was a necessity, not an option. Everyone had to fight to get their way, to a point. There was no way around it.

And so, Woe picked up a steel, swept hilt rapier, it was a long narrow blade, with very little it appeared in the way of cutting power. This was a sword for thrusting, it appeared.

After testing it's balance in his hand, with a few tentative motions of his elbow and wrist, he nodded, and shrugged. "I'll take this one..."

"Two onyx nel." Said the merchant. Woe kept his face deadpan and serious, betraying nothing in the way of emotion. Was he serious? Then again Woe was new to buying real weapons. Whips had always been rather cheap in comparison.

"Very well..." He said, handing over the nel, begrudging the sum.

Soon enough, he was a wall flower on the outskirts of the Arena walls, looking for one who he could train with, or perhaps even learn from. He looked very much the social reject, standing there with a rapier in its scabbard.

He kept his eyes peeled, however, for promising sparring partners. He'd never done this before, and wanted to make sure he found the right one.

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[Praetorum]

Date: 20th of Vhalar, Arc 719

Status: Ready for some training

Weapons: Quarterstaff

Armor: Leather

Current Magical Effects

Attuning to Woe

Etzos and Yaralon, in many respects, were quite similar. Sure, one was a city that embraced all immortals, the other a city that rejected them all. And there was a structure to Etzos’s government and army that Yaralon simply didn’t have. But they were both deeply martial cities, and nowhere was that clearer than in the Crescent Arena.

Ricky had scampered off to pick up some tips on hand to hand combat, not that he needed it, and Clarissa was out seeing the sights, experiencing the city as fully as she could. Which left Prae without a sparring partner as he entered the arena. It was a well maintained place, and clearly saw a great deal of use. Maybe this season, more than usual.

Since he was to be sparring with a stranger, Prae had elected to fight with a quarterstaff today, not wanting to end his stay in this city by accidentally slicing someone open. It was a weapon he hadn’t had much experience with, but he was sure he could pick it up quickly enough.

Wandering through the arena, Praetorum kept an eye out for anyone who looked like they lacked a training partner as well, until his eyes landed on a dark haired human wielding a rapier. He would do, Prae decided, and walked over.

“Hello.” Prae said. His attunement spark twisted in his chest then, and began the process of attuning to the man, suspicion suffusing his chest even as his head told him he was being ridiculous. Still, he stopped just out of arms reach of the man, as much to placate his spark as to avoid looming over the human. “I don’t suppose you need a training partner? I’m Praetorum.”

[Woe]

Fleaface was nearby, at hand, when Woe took the sword off of his belt and handed it to him. In turn, Fleaface gave him a cane for use during practice spars. "'Ere Master." He said, exchanging the two implements between them. Woe tried the balance of the cane, wondering if it were a good analog for the sword he'd just purchased. Then again, sticks were just as good a weapon, at least in terms of availability. One would often find a stick available at need, so it behooved him to learn to use them in combat.

Presently, he noticed a large ithecal approaching him. He'd seen a few of their kind while in Yaralon but had no occasion to converse or collaborate with one. Withersfield had been mostly of the human population, and oddly ignorant to other races. Woe didn't feel one way or another to Ithecal, although he understood they tended to serve Immortals and nations that set themselves against the Divine One. That was fine. Woe wasn't one to discriminate.

Most mortals and Immortals, after all, were aligned against the interests of Sintra.

"Well met, Praetorum." Woe smiled thinly. Without thinking, his spark began to attune to the other, relinquishing its hold over Magpie reluctantly. He'd only attuned to several people at the moment but thought it best to do so on with whomever he planned to engage. "Yes, I'd like to learn how to... er... swing this stick?"

"Let's head off into the circle then." Woe said, nodding to himself. As they walked along, Woe sideglanced at his training partner. The Ithecal had an accent that the Rynmerian couldn't place at first until he recalled his time in Yaralon. While the Ithecal might not be from there originally, it was hard to disguise one who'd spent any degree of time conversing in that Yaralon Dialect. "Have you ever been to Yaralon, Praetorum? I think I can hear echoes of that place in your accent..."

Once they'd made it to the circle, Woe lifted the tip of his stick/cane and took on a very poor pose. His feet squared in a stance, a few feet apart, and not very stable. He looked apologetically at Praetorum, "Apologies in advance of our sparring, I'm not the best fighter..."

[Praetorum]

Date: 20th of Vhalar, Arc 719

Status: Putting theory into practice

Weapons: Quarterstaff

Armor: Leather

No Current Magical Effects

Praetorum smiled as the human agreed to spar with him. He'd traded his rapier for a stick of similar size and, presumably, weight, and from the way he held it, he didn't seem particularly experienced, but that was alright. Prae was just trying to get a feel for this new weapon of his. 



As they took up their positions, the first clear notes of Woe's frequency began to ring in Prae's mind; a slight, subtle song, far less rambunctious than most Prae had heard. But there was something strange in the base chord, something just a little odd that Prae couldn't quite place. Dangerous? His spark whispered anxiously. Unknown.



It didn't matter, Prae told it firmly. This was a sparring match, they were both carrying bladeless weapons, and Prae had approached him, not the other way around. If this man was strange or different, that was his own business, not theirs. Risky. His spark insisted, but simmered down as Praetorum firmly ignored its paranoid whispering. 



"Good ear." Prae noted with a slight grin. "Yes, I spent the last arc or so in Yaralon; suppose I picked up some of that dialect. What about you? You're not from Yaralon, I take it, but have you been, or are you just familiar with the accent?"


Prae rolled his shoulders, loosening up as the human took up position. He did the same, settling into a comfortably defensive stance as he grasped the staff in both hands, each hand an equal distance from each other and the ends. He'd seen this weapon used several ways, but this was the one he'd seen most, so this was what he was starting with. "I was thinking I'd mostly focus on defensive moves with this weapon, if that's alright with you? If not, I'm happy to take a more offensive role in this spar if you want."

[Woe]

While they were squaring away in their respective corners, Woe began calling upon his attunement spark. It answered him in the form of a static barrier. It was a choice of either hiding his own divine connection or discovering the other combatant’s if he had any. In the end, he felt it more prudent to conceal himself from any potential divine or magical sussing out by others in the arena.

Etzos had a fairly liberal stance to magic users, as far as Woe could tell. Few or none had reacted negatively to mages in the war, in fact they may have been the deciding factor in sacking Rhakros, and driving Lisirra, wherever she had gone. Woe didn’t know if she suffered a true death. He was… unconvinced. It seemed that had such an immense power been stripped from the world, something would happen. Calamity, poison raining from the skies, birds falling dead. Much like when she’d visited upon the last cycle.

Yet many claimed that she was, and that Sintra’s help was instrumental in bringing it about. Who was he to disagree with his elders? He wondered idly where the person in front of him fell when it came to stances on the Immortals. He knew Ithecal, in Yaralon he’d seen a few in passing, although they hadn’t a chance to acquaint themselves. They were as full of self-righteousness and honor as the Yari were. Honor being a subjective attribute. It merely meant one stayed ocnsistent to one’s values, which could mean many things. Yet the ‘honorable’ often stood in judgment over others.

But he’d no idea if this Ithecal was one of those sorts. Perhaps he was a unique creature. Woe might find out. He opened himself up to the fraying threads and twine that made up the creature’s emotional tangle, as he hid his divine connection with static. He couldn’t very well manipulate the Ithecal without speaking to him with his venomous voice, but he could observe.

“Ah Yaralon. Yes good warriors there. Not much else but walls and oversized temples, from what I remember. And inhospitable starving lands.” Woe said, “Admittedly I don’t miss it.”

Using the distraction of his voice, he came forward with the longstick, and tried to strike against his right knee with the tip of the false blade.

The blow was blocked easily by the Ithecal. Woe backpedaled before a counter could be made, and narrowly voided the range of the quarter staff as the Ithecal handled it.

A fellow combatant, who’d gathered next to the pair of duelists, coached them both as they went at it. “Hey, Ithecal, you’ll want to hold that staff like you would a halberd or similar, from the end. Unless you plan on putting on a show spinning it. His blade is long, but you still have the advantage of first strike.”

Then another came by and began shouting pointers to Woe, “Keep yourself turned to the side, lad, make yourself smaller, and keep the blade facing forward!”

Woe became annoyed at these distractions, as he was for the most part interested in exploring the Ithecal’s emotional state. His jaw clenched slightly as he entered the Ithecal’s measure again, leaving him open to an attack.

[Doran]

Woe:

Knowledge:
[*]Attunement: Static: Disrupting attempts at attunement.
[*]Acrobatics: Positioning is important.
[*]Acrobatics: Setting your feet or staying mobile.
[*]Politics: Not all Ithecal call Raskalarn master.
[*]Politics: Ithecal come in a few different stripes.
[*]Sociology: Honor is a subjective concept.

Loot: -
Wealth: -
Injuries: -
Renown: -
Magic XP: -
Skill Review: Appropriate to level.
Points: 15

Praetorum:

Knowledge:
Attunement: Frequency: Woe: Is at least part human.
Attunement: Note: Danger
Attunement: Note: Marked

Loot: -
Wealth: -
Injuries: -
Renown: -
Magic XP: -
Skill Review: -
Points: 15

- - -

Comments: I’d never thought I’d see Woe fight with something other than a whip!

It’s a pity that this thread was abandoned. A fight between a Mortalborn and an Ithecal could have been interesting!

Anyway, enjoy your rewards!