Saved by the... Giant Blue Guy? (Gural)

[Blythe]

The slaver growled as Gural grabbed his wrist. "Get off," he spat, as he lifted his right leg and pushed it into Gural's knee, trying to free himself. When Gural brought his arm up again to try and get at the slaver, he missed due to all the squirming that was coming from the slaver, who had just managed to wiggle out of his hold. If Gural didn't lift his hand from the slaver's wrist before he had fully pulled himself away; the blade the slaver held would slice across his blue skin. Perhaps it would draw blood perhaps not. "You are going to pay for that little attack Akalak," the slaver hissed as he took a half step back to survey the situation. Blythe was biting her bottom lip nervously. She wanted to help Gural fight the slaver off, but she knew that if she tried to help, she would more than likely only create more of an issue. Fighting wasn't exactly her forte after all. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she waited for the two to start fighting again. She didn't want them to fight; she hated fighting, but Blythe knew it was inevitable. She knew that if she and Gural expected to escape the city and the threat of slavery, the man would have to die, or be rather badly injured. The slaver side-stepped to the right, before twisting his body around, extending his right hand with his movements. The blade swung around in a wide circle, along with his body. As of now, it was headed for Gural's side. The man was smiling wickedly. It didn't matter if he hurt the Akalak, as long as he didn't kill him. Dead men were worth nothing; it was the live ones that were. Meanwhile, Blythe remained with her back pressed against the cold wall behind her. She was doing her best to breath evenly in through her nose, and out through her mouth so that she would calm down. It didn't seem to be doing much. Oh please let Gural win Avalis. Please! Nobody wants to be a slave! Especially for someone the likes of him! Blythe thought as she pressed her head into the wall as well. The blade had whooshed past her nose, nearly slicing across the bridge. If only she were a half a step closer, not even... As Blythe continued to watch the fight an image came to mind: There was a woman sitting in a rocking chair. She was wearing a simple white dress with a low v-neck. The fabric pooled around her feet, and the curved bottom of the chair. The edges were frayed, and several dark brown splotches could be seen here and there upon the fabric. The splotches appeared to be dirt. She seemed like someone who had been working rather hard. Her skin was pale, but darkened by the same element; dirt. It seemed to mark the edges of her eyes, her chin, the backs of her hands, like poorly applied make-up. She seemed frail, her features small; delicate. She had a long ovular face, almond-shaped eyes with pale green irises. A series of crows feet were etched around the sides of her eyes. A small nose seemed to melt into the center of her face. She had rosy red lips. To Blythe, she seemed rather young, and yet, so very old as well. As though her work, or perhaps her level of stress caused her to age far more rapidly than most. A single tear fell from her right eye and poured down her cheek. The chair rocked lightly back and forth as the woman pushed it absently with her feet. She appeared as though she were trying to comfort herself. Blythe could hear footsteps inching closer and closer to the woman she was viewing. The woman looked up as the edges of a shadow appeared at the bottom of her dress. Blythe's vision turned to look at the approaching figure now. The man was clothed in a simple black tunic, and black pants. Brown boots. He was the slaver, dressed in another way. "Are you going off again? To work?" the woman asked. The man nodded. "You know I must work to feed us Melody." Another tear fell from the woman's face. Blythe could see both of them now. "Yes but do you have to do that, that... horrible deed?" the woman sobbed. The man never replied, instead, he kissed her delicately on the forehead before he turned away, and left. The vision ended. Blythe was left feeling rather light. Like she was floating. What was the point in seeing such a thing? Blythe wondered, as the slaver's blade inched closer and closer to Gural again. She supposed that during the duration of her vision, they had merely been sparring with one another. No one had seemed to gain any ground over the other. Unless her vision had only been a few seconds, which Blythe highly doubted. But how long was Blythe gone? And how much longer were Gural and the slaver going to fight each other? OOCIt's quite alright, and sorry for the constant back and forth. It's a little difficult to control two people. Sorry to extend the fighting. Hope you don't mind. Means more exp >.<

[Gural]

OOCYay, I’m finally all caught up! Also, don’t worry for the prolonged fighting, I didn’t expect it to succeed anyway. Gural was surprised when his punch did not land on its mark, and even more so when the pitiful human dared to damage his skin with the pig sticker he was wielding. As the man moved away, both of them seemed to scope the situation. “I guess you aren’t glad I forgot to bring my weapon along anymore?” Corak hissed in his head, taunting for a response. “Our weapon vermin, our weapon!” was all of the response he was going to get. The Akalak still refused to acknowledge the slaver as anything more than a momentarily pest as he ignored his petty provocations. When the next swing came, Gural took the time to examine its trajectory. As the blow was drawing closer, he took half a step backwards, and reached his right arm out in order to catch the man’s wrist again. If that worked, he would have used the man’s momentum against him by using the right knee to punish the ribcage with as much force as he could. Gural knew of good warriors with up to three broken ribs, but if he managed to break just one, it would likely incapacitate the man long enough for them to disappear. “Not vigorous enough!” Corak teased. “You really should make him hurt! A lot!” he continued. “Make him fall on that knife of…. Hey, are you even listening to me?!” With everything that’s been going on, Gural could not help, but if only for a moment, understand why Corak enjoyed this place so much. The booze was cheap, the woman were easy and the fighting was plentiful; many so called honorable fighters would give out for even less. Death was not something he wished to bring upon the stranger, but if he had no choice, it was not like he would have second thoughts about it.

[Blythe]

Ooooh, what is it with men and fighting? Can't they ever stop trying to kill each other, or at least defeat each other to prove their dominance and just get along? Blythe's eyes widened as she continued to sink into the wall. Seriously, what's wrong with peace and love? Can't they just hug it out? The slaver's blade inched closer and closer to Gural's body. When it seemed just about to strike, Blythe gasped. No! No! We were rooting for that one! Blythe nearly closed her eyes. You don't want to look. You don't want to look, it's all going to be over soon. Yet, the young Konti managed to keep her eyes open, and Gural managed to make at least a slight come-back. He grabbed the slaver's wrist. Oh thank Avalis there is still hope. The large blue hand seemed to sink into the slaver's skin. From where Blythe stood, it seemed as though Gural was raising his leg to strike the slaver. Yet, just as he was doing so, the slaver somehow managed to jerk his arm away. Well, so much for that idea. The slaver stumbled away from Gural and spat at his feet. "You're a lot of work, you know that Akalak?" he growled. "Hopefully you'll be worth it though." With that, he stepped around Gural and swung his dagger arm outwards and towards his back. Gural! Frightened that her new-found traveling companion may be injured in the fight, Blythe's eyes grew wide. "Would you two stop fighting!" she shouted. "What would Melody think?" she asked. As soon as the words had left her lips, the Konti raised her hands to her mouth, and hid her lips behind them. Smart move Blythe. Smart move. The slaver's muscles tensed. His body came to a complete halt. The blade he held was suspended in midair, hovering only inches away from Gural's body. He peered over his shoulder at her. The slaver returned his hand to his side, he seemed to have completely forgotten the fact that he had been fighting Gural. The slaver turned himself around so that he could face Blythe directly. "Where did you learn that name Konti?" he spat. Blythe took a half step away from the wall as he came closer and closer to her. His face was growing red. "Who told you about Melody?" "No one," Blythe replied as the slaver lunged for her. The blade flashed before her eyes. She twirled away just as his blade ran into the wall, pulling away tiny clods of whatever material it was that had made the building. Wood maybe, or some sort of clay. Blythe wasn't quite paying attention. You idiot, you should have let the Akalak deal with him. Akalaks do that sort of thing. Fight, you know. The slaver pulled the tip of his blade out of the wall, and turned to her. "Where did you learn that name?" he growled. OOCBlythe is a Konti... hello... stupid slaver. Erm... sorry this post is kind of blah. Gave Gural a bit of a break though. Also... sorry the moves are a bit repetitive...

[Gural]

OOCBetter late than never, I guess. Gural was just about to try and jump out of the dagger’s wake, when he realized that the man had stopped completely. He tried to turn around and strike at the man while he was looking away, but luck was not with the Akalak. The slaver turned to face Blythe, while going on what seemed like a rampage. As the kick that was planned to hit the man in the lower spine missed, the slaver moved closer and closer to Blythe. Idiotic Konti, just what did she thought could come of this? “I know I like mine a little less on the bright side, but that chick is just dumb!” Corak stated obviously. “She was just trying to help us out; it’s what normal people usually do in these situations” “Could be, but who did she think would help her? You’re royal gallantness?” the twin teased further. Gural almost forgot he was supposed to fight with the man which had given him a few feet head start towards Blythe. Pacing quickly towards the stranger, he swung his right leg to the opposite side, aiming at the kidney. It seemed as if the man did not care that there was a six foot something Akalak behind him that wanted to fight him, and for some part…. even kill him. If the kick had worked, Gural would jump onto the man’s back with his knee pushed out. If it landed fairly, the next would be to grab the dagger hand by both wrist and elbow and force it into the knee until the Human had dropped it.

[Blythe]

The slaver looked as though he were just about to lash out at Blythe once more. Petch! Petch! Petch! Petch! Petch! The girl thought as the man's blade flashed. The girl's eyes widened when she noticed a blurry blue blob coming from behind the slaver. Gural? Ooomf! There was a muffled thud, as Gural's foot made contact with the center of the man's back. The slaver's skin rippled from the impact beneath his clothes, as he rapidly began to move his arms in a forward windmill sort of motion, as though he were trying to swim through the air. The man was desperate not to fall flat on his face. His weight was pressed into his toes, as he continued to lean forward, toppling towards the ground. Blythe stared on in horror. The slaver was coming right at her! Again! As adrenaline coursed through each of her veins, the Konti found it harder to think straight, all she was thinking about getting out of this alive. Hopefully, however, that meant that the slaver simply had to be severely injured, and not killed. Her lavender eyes were filled with fear; perhaps Gural could see it, and his own reflection. Blythe seemed stuck in place, her muscles tense. Hey! Hey you! You may want to move since he is coming right at you now! The slaver was starting to stumble forward. You know, before he impales you with that dagger... accidently or otherwise. Blythe's heart was pounding in her tiny rib cage as her breath caught in her throat. It felt so unnaturally dry. Now! Blythe move! At the last possible moment, Blythe curled into herself. She folded into the ground. Her elbows were up against her knees. Her legs were curled beneath her, supporting her entire weight. Her hands were wrapped around her head, which was curled into her chest. Her forehead was pressing into the ground lightly, as were the length of her arms. A moment later, Blythe's knees began to hurt all the more, as she felt the slaver's leg press into her side. He inched her closer to the ground, sending a chill up Blythe's spine. His arms were still spinning rapidly, as his left leg, fell into the right. A moment later, the slaver was toppling over the length of Blythe's curled up frame. The edges of her dress were blowing around lightly in the wind. The slaver let out a startled scream, as he continued to fall through the cold winter air. A moment later, Blythe heard a muffled thud, and a loud cracking noise. Perhaps he has broken something. A second after that, she heard the clattering of metal on the ground, his blade. His hand was still clutching it, although his grip was loosening. As his hands dragged across the ground, and his skin flattened into it, the slaver could feel tiny bits of gravel fighting their way through his wall of delicate flesh. He could feel it being displaced, and pushed into each other. He could feel his blood escaping, a bright red, warm liquid spilling into the ground. Blythe gasped, as she felt a sharp pain in her side. She unfurled her hands, and sat up. The tip of his dagger had wedged into her side during the fall. In the tiny space just above her left hip, and before her ribs. A small droplet of warm, crimson red blood could be seen escaping from her pale flesh. Petch! Blythe thought as a sharp, small pain shot through her side. She gazed over at the fallen man, his legs had fallen off of her, and he seemed positively broken. His fingers had unwound themselves from the hilt of the blade. Blythe extended her right hand across her body, and pulled it out from beneath his hand. Best to unarm him right? Then, perhaps, he won't be so likely to harm anybody... until he gets a new one. Blythe's pale, trembling fingertips wrapped around the blade as she slowly got to her feet. Her eyes hadn't yet left the body of the slaver. "Hey Gural, do you think he's dead... or just, not in very good shape?" Blythe asked, as she finally brought her eyes to him. Gural's skin seemed to be glistening with a thin sheet of sweat. Had the fight exhausted him? Blythe wondered, as she gave the slaver a small nudge with her foot. The flesh bounced back as soon as she had pulled her foot back. Now that she listened, she could hear him groaning slightly. He is probably just a little dazed, out of it. That last fall did look a little nasty. Blythe sighed, as she wondered if Gural would choose to finish him off. Her scales flashed a pale pink, as the blood-tipped blade flashed menacingly in the golden sunlight. Blythe turned back to the slaver's body, "even though this is Sunberth, do you think we should go Gural?" Blythe inquired. "Surely someone will miss him. Even though he's a slaver, he has got to have friends, right?" Blythe asked.

[Gural]

OOCI am faster now! Also, usually when a strike comes from one side, the target (if hit) will fly towards the other. Not forward. Still, I guess we can always say that the kick had landed awkwardly because Gural was tired/ reckless. The kick had landed awkward; Gural knew that much as he could feel a surge of pain shooting through his leg. The pain was not unbearable, but the fact that it was present led him to believe he had made a mistake somewhere in the movement. He heard a thud when the man hit the ground even before he gazed down to see it. Turning towards Blythe, he gasped with the realization that he was indeed tired. What came next was a mix of rage and pity as he laid his eyes onto the wound that marked Konti’s side. Stupid girl, she had gone and got herself hurt! Stupid Gural for letting her do it! He barely held together as he looked at her a bit more. Her voice had reached his ears, but he just ignored it, as he stared at her angrily. Finally he walked up to her slowly, stepping over the broken slaver. Unless she moved, he would grab her by the shoulders and push her gently against the wall, yelling slowly: “In Riverfall we protect our women, having it happen the other way around is unheard of! What were you thinking?” he kept yelling in her face. “How can you even think about trying to save me, when you can’t even save yourself?!” he asked abruptly. “I might have got hurt? So what? Don’t you think I was well aware of the risk you carried when you joined me?” his voice subsided into silence before he added: “Thank you”. It was fairly obvious he didn’t want an answer to any of his words as he stopped. “Quite a seduction skill you’ve got going there, Gural! Care to teach me your mysterious ways?” Corak asked mocking him. “Not now cerulest!” “Having a little girl save your butt, how low can you get?” the voice teased. “I said not now, damn it!” suddenly, Gural found himself screaming at Blythe’s face. Realizing he had vented out his frustration too loud, he moved away from the woman. Not wanting any further discussion with either of them, he picked the slaver off the ground and placed him onto his shoulder. The man was much heavier than he seemed, or Gural was just tired beyond his expectations. Turning towards Blythe, he spoke again: “He’ll live, might not be able to move properly for a while, and even more so since our means of transportation are so…” he stopped, taking a moment to force his shoulder a bit deeper into the man’s abdomen before resuming: “Primitive!” “You are so cute when you’re mad, do you know that?” Corak voiced his humor again. After looking around to make sure they are alone, he returned his gaze to Blythe: “You will be alright too, just pour some alcohol over that as soon as you can. It will cleanse the wound properly, but it will hurt; a lot”. Waiting for a bit, he finally asked: “So do you know where to carry him?” Even after he stopped being mad, he still thought about smacking the Konti for her naive stupidity. Saving a man that had just tried to kill her was beyond altruistic, it was plain stupid.

[Blythe]

Blythe's lavender-colored eyes grew wide as she found herself back up against the wall. Haven't we already done enough of this? the Konti wondered, as the Akalak began to scold her. She was gripping the slaver's weapon much more tightly now, when she finally mustered the word "sorry." Her eyes were cast down, at Gural's feet. She felt like a small child again, during those times her mother had scolded her for sneaking into the cookie jar before dinner, or getting into a fight with one of her older sisters. "But we made it out ok, right?" she asked. Isn't that what matters? Blythe was silent for a long time after Gural cursed at her. She had a feeling that the words were not directed at her, or at least, not entirely. He and the dark one don't seem to get along too well, do they? Blythe thought, as she looked on with sad eyes. When Gural picked the slaver up, Blythe felt a strange shooting pain coursing through her heart. Now why would he do that? Blythe wondered, as she looked up at him with a confused expression. "Well no, considering his abode is unknown to each of us." There was a slight pause, as Blythe considered her next set of words, "we could always drop him off in the Slave Market, back at the tent where we first met, although, that would run the risk of each of us being captured. Not to mention, each of the people from his tent are well... dead." Blythe gulped. "And although this is Sunberth, there has to be somebody who cares. Somebody who wonders why..." The girl's voice trailed off as the words, someone like Melody came to mind. The slaver groaned once more, "you can put me down Akalak. There is no need to carry me around with you... The Konti is young, foolish, there is no one who cares." He is wrong, Blythe thought, someone always cares, he just may not know it. "And Konti, consider yourself lucky that you haven't been left with any more... marks," the slaver continued. Blythe simply stared at the man, he truly had no manners, or any appreciation for the fact that Gural had more than likely just spared his life. As soon as the words had left the slaver's lips, he started to cough. His entire stomach seemed to tremble, as a trickle of saliva escaped the confines of his mouth. Blythe scrunched up her nose. Gross. "The man is right Gural, it's only a minor wound, surely it won't wind up being any sort of problem," Blythe said simply, ignoring the subtle pain in her side. The dull throbbing. Something little more than an incessant poke. "And perhaps, if he so wishes, we should simply dump him here. Some one will come along to save him... surely." Or finish him off and take his things. Blythe pushed the idea from her mind as she added, "besides, carrying him around will simply draw attention to us. Tire you out even more... and well, make it more difficult for us to get out of here without... winding up as slaves." OOCBlythe is already standing, so I figured you'd just drag her around from there...

[Gural]

OOCWould this work? Gural could feel his knees and shoulders suffering the pressure of the slaver’s body as he still looked around, more to divert his thoughts than anything else. Looking back at the girl as she spoke, the Akalak felt strange sadness; still he did nothing to even acknowledge he had listened to her. It was not alright, they were saving the spine of worthless trash that attacked them out of a whim, how could it be? “I say we just sell his sorry ass and split the money” Corak stopped for a bit, snickering. “We could always give Melody the money too, couldn’t we? Would you like that fool?” after all that has happened, Gural no longer had complete control of his actions, and if only momentarily he was dependant on cerulest whims of his counterpart. Resuming his normal tone, Gural spoke as if nothing had happened: “You will tell me where do I find Melody so I can drop you off, if you refuse I will find her myself and it will be more of a social visit that way” the Akalak would never actually rape anyone, but he was confident that the slaver could be scared enough to give his maiden up. After all, if he got killed, who would protect his woman; there was not a greater curse to his kind, and even while puny humans could not understand it completely, they too had women that needed guardians and champions. “I will give you time to think about it” Gural continued without waiting for an answer. “We can’t dump him here, I am sure he is needed somewhere much like I was needed here not many moments ago. Even so, I don’t think dumping him here is much different than killing him right away. Still, if you do wish to proceed on such actions, I will be sure to obey your orders!” Gural knew all the right buttons to press in order to provoke some guilt. All Konti he knew were kind creatures, and somehow the wounded damsel at his side did little to disapprove the theory. He waited for a bit to see if Blythe would say anything, shortly after he would ask her: “So, tell me about Melody?” he asked curiously. A lady of the sea with her flesh scarred and a warrior from the grassy plains with his pride crumbling, such a duo the two of them made.

[Blythe]

The slaver's cheeks seemed to puff up like that of a chipmunk. A moment later, they had gone flat again, as a wad of clear spit mixed with the occasional air bubble erupted from his lips. The pile of spit landed an inch behind Gural's foot. Blythe scrunched up her nose, gross. The slaver had more than likely been aiming for Gural, but with how he was dangling over the Akalak's body, he had missed. The slaver began to chuckle, but perhaps it was because of his position, or the fact that he had just fallen flat on his face, because his laughter turned into a coughing fit. "Never," he hissed, before coughing up another wad of spit, which landed two inches to the right of his last pile. Well that certainly isn't how anyone should behave, Blythe thought, as she walked over to the slaver and picked up his chin in her right hand. Her thumb was pressing lightly into his left cheek, her index finger, his right. Her hand was curled underneath his chin. When their eyes were more level, she said, "you know he didn't have to spare you life. In fact, he probably shouldn't have for what you tried to do, but the man is being merciful, and you should respect him for that." There was a slight pause, "you should at least be kind to him when he is trying to help you." The slaver simply smiled, "shouldn't you know where Melody lives, Konti?" he spat, another shot of spit erupting from his lips and landing on the Konti's nose. Blythe dropped the man's face with a slight shove, and furrowed her brows angrily, as she wiped the spit off of her face with the back of her hand. When she was done, she returned her hands to her side, "you know, you make it really hard for anyone to like you," she scolded the slaver. There was a slight pause before she added, "humans, they always seem to think that we Konti know everything," under her breath. In all honesty, it was getting annoying. She was sick of people knowing so little about the Konti race, of having such ridiculously high expectations of them. She was sick of the slaver's manners, and general antics, and would not mind if Gural dumped him right about now. Blythe turned back to the Akalak, "if he is going to be like that, we should simply leave him. He obviously doesn't want our help, and the vision didn't exactly mention where the two of them lived," Blythe said softly. There was an edge of irritation in her voice. "And unless he starts learning some manners, he probably doesn't deserve our help anyway." There was a slight pause, why does Gural want to help the slaver out anyway, when he tried to capture us? It was a dark thing for the Konti to think, but she simply could not make sense of it all. OOCYeah, that's fine.

[Gural]

Gural was tired, his leg hurt and he was angry; so slaver picking the moment he did to prove his guts or whatever was going through his head, was a terrible idea. The Akalak was ready to throw the man off his shoulders and into a nearby wall when Blythe took charge off the questioning. The slaver seemed equally hardheaded and even spat at the Konti, now Gural was no expert when it came to interpersonal relations, but that seemed like abuse of both women and good will; both of which angered him even more. “I can see that you are angry, but I’m not taking over if it’s that easy!” Corak spoke as if he was replying to an unvoiced question. “He thinks he is protecting his goose, but all he is doing is killing them both, or rather you are!” guilt was not something the dark brother was familiar with, but he always had an easy job of sticking it under other people’s noses. He waited for human and the Konti to end their bickering, he cared not for the outcome, as he knew it was next to impossible for the woman to get something out of him. Only when Blythe spoke to him, did he even give off the slightest of reactions. The answer to her proposition was simple: “No!” the blue man exclaimed. Throwing the injured slaver off his shoulders and onto the ground, he yelled: “You think she will appreciate it if you die now and leave her alone? Well do you? A man’s sacred duty is to protect his family, his women and children! You will tell me where I can find Melody and I will take you there, or you will keep silent and I will not only leave you on the ground, I will kill you myself!” he hissed at the man, before adding in a rather calm voice: “If you die, who will care for her?” he ended by crossing his arms in front of his chest. He did not know what to think or what to expect, but he knew what he wanted; he wanted for it to end. Looking down at the man, he didn’t even feel pity or remorse anymore, he was just furious. Normally he would try to solve this, and then just leave; but failing to protect one’s woman was a capital sin; one which he was more than ready to land capital punishment upon. “Oh, the drama!” Corak threw his exclamation into a mix that was tumbling inside Gural’s head.