Closed Dance of the Desert [Ayatah]

[Sybel]

Just outside Narvaen Stables

55th of Winter, 512 AV

Eplah grumbled as her owner walked toward the stall. Boarding her horse was the worst, forcing the poor beast to stay in a confined space like that. Sybel scratched behind the steed's ears and patted her on the rump, closing the gate as she left. Before long they’d be out in the rolling grasslands again but for the time being they were both confined to the infectious streets of Zeltiva. It could be frustrating to say the least.

She’d been running mercenary jobs for the self-important which afforded her little time to be idle. It was a blessing honestly, given her current state of mind. Her life was an infuriating game of circles. Sybel had traveled the length of Sylira and the breadth of Cyphrus. She’d been as far north as Mura and as far south as Yahebah. It was an impressive resume of travel, especially for a single woman going it alone. There’d been many times that she’d walked the line of life and death, balancing on the knife’s edge… And those times were a sight more appealing than the idea she had done nothing but waste time.

What a pitiful excuse for a treasure hunter she was. What treasure hunting had she done, exactly? From Sylira to Mura and back again, giving Nyka wide berth. The Benshira stifled the urge to scream as she strode back into the wintry air. It was crisp and comfortable which was a welcome change. With Zeltiva it was all rain and snow. The lack of either brought a smile to her face, despite her otherwise foul disposition.

Her hand traced the hilt of her blade. This would be a decent enough place for practice. It was on the fringe of the city, where it was unlikely she would be disturbed. Maybe letting off a bit of steam would do her good. Sybel grinned and unsheathed her blade, reveling in its steely ring. Just a few steps further and she’d be out of the normal sightline. But just as she crested the hill, it seemed someone else had the same thing in mind. It was yet another testament to the non-existence of original thought. She grumbled.

The woman in question seemed different, much like herself. Her skin had that same coppery-tone found only amongst the sands of Eyktol. Sybel stretched a bit and watched her dance, daggers in hand. ”Image training can only do you so much good,” she called out on the approach. ”It’s better to practice with the real thing.” Her raven hair whipped in the wind, Benshira eyes alight. ”I could help, if you’d like. It gets stuffy, what with all the crushing poverty and rampant disease.” It felt good to be her usual, droll self.

[Ayatah]

The stables had seemed an unlikely place to train, or so Ayatah had first thought. But she had been completely unaware of just how big the landscape was, and how green and flat. It was, in fact, the perfect location to burn some much-needed Myrian aggression out on the blowing wind.

She had chosen to train in the shelter for a small hill. It saved her from the worse of the bone-snapper winds, and also shielded her from prying eyes. The half-Eypharian caught enough attention wandering through the city as it was; if the people saw her train, no doubt she would be perceived as even more of a vicious savage. And although she was fiercely proud of her heritage (the maternal side, at least), it was becoming… a slight bore that mothers dragged their children from her a she turned a corner or came out of a shop.

And that plague that was sweeping the city was certainly not enjoyable either. As a Myrian, she expected herself to be immune to the city-dwelling illness, but there was a small part of her that flushed with worry whenever she saw a man vomit in the street or a child faint.

So she had come to train. It was second nature to her, as well as a hobby and passion. Since she had joined the Zeltiva martial association, her training session had come more numerous - and more importantly, she had started practising with two weapons. She felt all the more dangerous with two daggers in her hand (even if dual-wielding was a skill that her father’s people we reknowned for).

The daggers in her hand were double bladed, set upon a central wooden hilt, so between her two hands, there were four blades. ”They will work as four weapons, but you must not separate them entirely.” The voice of her martial trainer, Nuvro, echoed through her mind. The man knew his weaponry; that much she had to admit. Even if he was not a Myrian.

But it had been frustratingly difficult to incorporate a new dagger in her left hand. Usually, her left arm would block enemy attacks, or punch outwards to knock her foes to the ground. It felt a little alien to swipe and swing it in concordance with her right. But Ayatah would learn. She would get blisters on her fingers and cramp in her legs, but she would learn.

”I could help, if you’d like. It gets stuffy, what with all the crushing poverty and rampant disease.”

The wind knocked some of the stranger’s words out of her hearing, but Ayatah got the gist of what she said. The woman held a longsword in hand, but the half-Eypharian investigated the woman’s face before she replied. She was a desert-dweller - the copper skin and dark hair told Ayatah that much. But she was not Eypharian, unless there were a couple more arms that Ayatah could not see from this angle.

”I’ve grown rather attached to the smell of vomit, disease and death,” she retorted, thick Myrian accent twisting some her words. ”horse muck isn’t much better, anyway.” She sheathed her daggers, stretching her arms out and twisting her back and smiling as she felt her muscles stretch and relax. ”You are welcome to train with me, stranger.”

Hey, even Myrians get lonely.

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

[Sybel]

Sybel cast a weather eye over Ayatah’s daggers, noticing their bitter-double edge. If this woman had even an elementary grasp of combat, it would make for a good fight. ”I couldn’t agree more,” she replied, drawing closer to the mystery fighter. ”I am Sybel of the Tents of Alijah.” The lithe, muscular woman had a distinct look to her she couldn’t quite place. She was strikingly beautiful and in her eyes burned a dark fire, like the predatory snarl of a mountain cat. The name Aello sprang to mind and once considered, the similarities between this stranger and the wildling girl weren’t too far off the mark.

”Good to see a woman bettering herself in combat.” She was surprisingly sincere, at that. In one fluid motion she unsheathed her steel, dropping the point low immediately. Etiquette prompted one not to point a sword at a sparring partner unless in the act. ”From what I saw, you’ve got better form than I have.” Sybel flashed her a toothy grin before taking a cautious step back, readying for the fight. The Benshira was many things, but idle had never been one of them. She had too much dormant energy to just stand around chatting and this woman looked ready to provide a challenge.

”Let’s say best two strikes out of three?” A common set of rules. Ayatah or Sybel respectively would attempt to land three blows on their opponent. Of course, there was no telling if the dark beauty would choose to decapitate her on the first go. But then again, there was no point in needlessly killing someone you just met… Right? The desert-dwelling nomad was not one to agonize over the details.

Her eyes flashed, then changed. Sinking low into her stance, she began to stalk to the side. ”Ready when you are.”

OOCI'm so sorry it took me this long to reply! I've fallen behind!

[Ayatah]

Ayatah sheathed her blades, listening as the woman introduced herself. It was the latter part of her title that the half-Eypharian paid specificly keen interest to. ”The Tents of Alijah?” She repeated, tasting the unfamiliar introduction on her own tongue. Other than her own paternal people, Ayatah knew little about the other desert dwellers -- though the knowledge-seeking student within her begged for Aya to push for more information from this stranger. Politeness, however, had her introduce herself instead. ”It is good to meet you, Sybel. I am Ayatah, of the Scattered Bones and daughter of Myri.” Her head dipped in some foreign formal greeting.

”Thank you,” she said, returning Sybel’s smile with one of her own, ”we Myrians train a minimum three years with our army. You either learn to wield a weapon, or die.” The words were said with a chuckle, despite the ominous truth behind them. The jungle had a tendency to simply chew up and spit out those poor buggers who couldn’t use a weapon of sorts.

Her chocolate eyes dropped to that shining steel in the other woman’s hands, though they soon flickered back to the Benshira’s face as she stepped backwards. Pleasantries were set aside, and now this stranger seemed keen to get going. My kind of company, she thought as her smirk widened. ”Two strikes out of three.” The deal was confirmed, and Ayatah mirrored Sybel in sliding into her warrior’s stance; right leg leading as she stalked in a wide circle around the other woman.

”How very kind of you,” she mused wryly, lips pursed in concentration but her eyes showing some kind of humour at the strange etiquette of sparring. Her eyes were on the longsword, though they shifted every so often to watch the Benshira’s arms or feet in an attempt to predict and assume the woman’s movements. The sword itself was a fearsome foe; far longer than any of her dagger blades, though what it had in length it would lack in speed -- or so she hoped.

She had no clue about this stranger’s skill or training; for all Ayatah knew, she could be facing some savage killer. But then again, wasn’t she meant to be the savage one with those infamous cannibalistic tendencies? Her left foot came forward, in one slow sliding step that closed some of the distance between the two women. At the same time, she raised her right dagger hand, hoping through some childish thinking that her weaker left hand would not need to be in use for this spar.

Of course, that would not be the case.

oocNot to worry! Happens to us all

|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||

[Sybel]

”Myri, eh? An unrelenting spirit.” Her reply was cryptic but said with a smile, mirroring Ayatah’s own. It was unclear whether she referred to the Myrian or her aforementioned goddess, but regardless her words smacked of approval. Sybel had always admired the warrior-queen, though her sons less so. Perhaps it was a latent fear of being eaten… But for some odd reason, she was unafraid. She’d never met an actual Myrian woman before.

The next comment rang particularly true. ”Such is life in Mizahar,” she remarked lightly. Ayatah seemed to have a decent head atop her shoulders. Perhaps later she’d inquire about the woman’s tattoos – all Myrians had them, or so she’d been told. Assuming of course, they’d leave the battle on good terms. The girl began stalking at her own pace, their forms mirroring one another. At one time even, Sybel had considered dual wielding… She could really capitalize on her own agility. It would be very interesting to see how they matched up.

As Ayatah moved in however, Sybel arched a brow. Did she really believe to make good with a single-handed assault? Eyes smoldering, her guard shifted to ‘upper snake,’ holding the blade just above her head. It would force the young warrior to either make good on the strike or to adjust, either way putting Sybel in prime position to land a blow. Now, the real question would be answered. Was she adaptable in her tactics or not?

There was something niggling at her, however… Something in the foreign woman’s eyes. There was a familiarity about the curve of her fine features and the tone of her skin… But there was no telling why that was. That would be another inquiry for later: Was she truly from the lush jungles of Falyndar? Or was it somewhere closer to home? Bel’s eyes twinkled with impish delight. This day had certainly gotten interesting.

[Keene Ward]

Grades

“For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.”
-Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene

Ayatah

Skills

Observation +1
Socialization +2
Rhetoric +1
Investigation +1
Planning +1

Lores

None

Rewards/Consequences
None


Notes
Not much here to award. As you're already expert in daggers and dual wielding would require you to do more than just hold the weapons, I couldn't award any weapon skills.

If you have any questions or concerns, please send me a PM!

Sybel

Skills

Philosophy +1
Teaching +1
Negotiation +1
Rhetoric +2
Socialization +3
Observation +1
Tactics +1
Weapon: Longsword +1

Lores

Ayatah: Child of Myri

Rewards/Consequences
None


Notes
If you have any questions or concerns, please send me a PM!