A Series of Ridiculous Events

[Gracen]

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The Akalak's counter grazed the flanks of Verus' horse, causing it to lash out ineffectually with its hind feet as it rushed off, the squire struggling to maintain control to engage their opponents and provide Xuphim the support he needed. But the dark squire lost his chance to end one life cleanly, the second Akalak swinging about to knock his shield aside. Fortunately for Xuphim, the two foes, while mighty, were not trained to work together and got in each other's way enough for Xuphim to recover. Clearly, they would not surrender. Verus' recovery came more quickly than the Akalak might have anticipated, but then his knight had been a great friend of Ser Ulliver Windmount, one of the greatest riders among the knights of Syliras, and he had paid close attention. There was a hint of rage around the edges of his discipline as he rode down upon the three Akalaks, only one of whose deaths he would mourn. But he had heard Xuphim's offer of clemency, and so at the last minute, he turned the edge of his sword aside, clocking his foe on the back of the head with stunning force rather than cleaving his skull in twain. As the stricken warrior began to topple, he crashed into his compatriot, who was forced to lunge at Xuphim in an all-or-nothing maneuver or fall to his knees and be taken prisoner.

[Xalet]

Xuphim could see the face of his enemy before him, and it was so very similar to his own. Every Akalak carried with them a secret that they could only share with others who understood what it was to carry an Akalak's burden. Even Xuphim specifically himself had secrets. Secrets that not even his brother Xalet knew fully. That time was close, but it wasn't yet. There was still too much for the two to accomplish to leave the lightest half of them riddled with doubt and uncertainty. For now he had to let Priskil's light shine faithfully, as it did from the perforations in the palm of the hide riveted to the backing of his gauntlet. Soft rays made to channel the will to live on and maintain hope. Stepping forward, Xuphim prepared for their final clash. The bulk of his shoulder flung his sword arm forward like a whip, the tightly corded tendons on fire from their overuse this day. The screeching clash of two types of metal coming together rang out. In his youth his eyes would have squinted from the impact, the body's reflexive response. Tensing, preparing for impact. Now though they stayed wide open, watching for the next movement. A fight was a struggle to maintain dominance, exploiting those few openings as desperately as one could. A fight was not won by resisting the urge to attack, you had to give in and let the carnage flow. As Xuphim's head came down against his kinsman's he felt strangely nostalgic. Almost everything he had learned was from his Patron, the Konti Knight. Everything except this 'barbaric maneuver' as she called it. The headbutt was something learned from the mixed techniques of the Syliran Knights, along with a few key influences from the various cultures that called the Knights home. A proper headbutt was thrown with the knees, the top of the head contacting the opponents face like a fist thrown in the manner of an uppercut. Clench the neck and shoulders, keep the spine straight. Finally, always attack through the opponent. Never stop upon contact, that was the difference between causing an injury, and putting your foe straight out of commission.

[Gracen]

Hard-headed Xuphim brought down the last of the three. Only then did the noises of the various women, some still weeping, others making inarticulate sounds of joy when the two injured squires remained standing, the slavers all down. Verus' horse stepped up closer. "I oughtn't've killed the one," he murmured. But if he hadn't, it would've been three-to-two, and the two already injured. His nostrils flared, smelling Akalak blood, the scent of the women, his fellow squire. What a strange gift from Oriana. It seemed the Windoak wanted them to learn the value of mercy as well as might; this made sense, he supposed. As much as the knights could rule with an iron fist, there was a vein of compassion running through the order, too. He sighed and dismounted heavily from his mount, taking spare leather and rope to hogtie the bastards. "We're going to have to make this work," he continued, switching into the logistics of the task ahead, much as one might expect from the son of a merchant. "Ser Evander, the two prisoners. Any women too injured or weary to walk. The dead one if we can manage. Are you ready for a long walk, my friend?" His smile was weary, but he, at least, was convinced that they had fulfilled their mission.

[Xalet]

Slowly Xuphim's breath slowed down. In and out it flowed as he watched the final Akalak fall for the time being. With one great swell of air he relaxed his body as best he could, which seemed to be a great mistake as the feeling of the various pains that plagued his form were now quite apparent. "Tch..." he winced slightly, it seemed nearly every Akalak had a head like a rock, although it wasn't a theory he was keen on testing too many additional times in the future. Standing up straight from his combat stance a quick flick of the wrist brought the blade of his short sword around, aimed for the entrance of his sheath. Finding that opening the short length slid inside, settling finally with a locking 'click'. Looking around at the various bodies, some unconscious, those which retained their senses included the various women, the Akalak finally recognized exactly how much of a pain in the neck it was going to be getting everyone from their current location back to Syliras. At the very least they would need to meet up with a patrol somewhere along the border or upon the Kabrin road which could potentially make their lives much easier. He turned his gaze down to the various women present, his brow furrowing, "Well ladies, one last long walk for the day. Everyone's got to get back to Syliras so we can get you cleaned up and get this mess taken care of." Looking back over at Verus, it seemed the Squire was prepared well enough for this type of hardship. Xuphim, despite how much he felt like simply wanting to sleep for a few dozen bells, couldn't allow himself to be outdone in such a way. "Heh, no problem partner. That's what Body Building is for. I think we got enough out here to make some crappy sleds until everyone is well enough to be pulling their own weight. Least the horses are all still in one piece." he commented, walking over toward his own steed and giving it a pat on the side. As crass as Xuphim was, he couldn't find it in him to act like a total jackass. He was satisfied enough that he and the Squire were still alive and had done their good deed for the day. "Alright partner, lets get everything set up and head on home. It's high time for something to eat. Gotta spend some time in the Soothing Waters and maybe get some hot gal to look at all of these injuries." he added with a bit of a chortle. Giant bears, Goddesses, slaving Akalaks...if he and Verus could get past all of that, getting back to the security of the stony walls of Syliras would be a cinch. Without additional respite, Xuphim went to work with the rope and went on to create something of a sled-like stretcher involving his own bedroll as a transport device.

[Gracen]

It took longer than anticipated, but the injured squires managed to get the women and the dead knight's corpse back to Stormhold. The stronger and less overtly traumatized women helped as soon as the young men loosed their chains. A couple women even had the foresight to save their chains, thinking perhaps to sell them for scrap and make a coin or two. They were canny survivors, those women, who even now didn't know how long the knights' largesse would last them. Xuphim, or Xalet if he had resumed control by this point, were likely the only person to see the pang of guilt cross Verus' face at the tearing sound of Ser Evander's widow as she cried out in shocked grief before friends or family managed to pull her away to compose herself. The loved ones of Syliran knights learned to maintain a stiff upper lip for the world outside the walls was a dangerous one, and those who were brave were also the ones who tended to die too young. After they were separated from their rescued hostages, from Ser Evander laid low, from their horses and all, they were divested of their battered armor, their wounds seen to. Xuphim had his brief spree in Soothing Waters, but the experience was merely expedient. They were cleaned and clothed in the simple silk shirt and breeches for their vigil, and Verus scowled up at his Akalak companion. "You're too fucking tall," he murmured, and, barefoot beside each other, one could see his point. Then they were finally allowed into the Presence of the Windoak, which seemed to sooth away the world weary emotional baggage they carried with them. Everything smelled more clear, and the both of them had flared nostrils from time to time, their brains trying to adapt to this new, more intense stream of sensory input. But even that, which might have given them a headache until they were used to it, sort of fell away. It would be a long night and day, as exhausted as they were, but a knight ought be able to struggle on despite fatigue, and this time with the Windoak was a sacred honor. Barefoot, Verus began to walk toward the tree to kneel and begin.

[Xalet]

It wasn't often that Xuphim and Xalet felt the exact same thing at the exact same time. They both had their goals and expectations, but regardless of which Soul was in control, there had always been the overreaching goal of finally reaching Knighthood. Fifteen years of training, fifteen years of Squirehood, fifteen years of education both martial and mental. It wasn't until the Akalak finally stood before the tree that was the Windoak that he discovered just how much he underestimated Knighthood. You didn't get lucky to become a Knight, you got good. "Ain't my fault Humans are stunted growers." Xuphim replied in a low, quite voice that was somewhat uncharacteristic for him. It was only the second time he had been allowed within the Courtyard that kept the great Oak, the first being the meditation he had to complete in order to gain his quest. A strange tension clung to his body, despite the medics best services at the Soothing Waters. He awaited...something. An attack, an explosion, some sort of chaos, but in fact there was nothing, only peace and the soft sounds of nature surrounded by stone and wood. As he made his way forward, each step that brought him closer to the Windoak seemed to bring him closer to relaxation. That bright moment of accomplishment was finally starting to lay smoothly in sheets across his psyche. He felt the need to fidget due to the silence and reverence needed for the ceremony, but Xalet did his best to cull Xuphim's over-energetic tendencies. You only became a Knight once, after all. "If there was a single time to watch our manners, this is it." Xalet reminded his brother, still not completely trusting of his self-restraint. "I can act all proper when I need to, Gods damn." Xuphim quipped back as his body heavily came to rest upon his knees befor ethe sacred tree. His palms rested atop his thighs, his head leaned forward slightly, and his eyes closed as for the first time in his life, he tried to clear his mind completely, leaving all thoughts behind until only his most basic senses remained. Those senses were potent now as well, smell especially. The cut of the grass, the age of the stone, all things in close proximity seemed so much more...alive.