Completed [Sanctuary Beach] The Art of War

[Jorin Ertihan]

Season of Summer, Day 45, 513 AV

Thirteenth Bell

This is a stupid idea.

Jorin couldn't help thinking that as he hefted the heavy-looking wooden stick. It wasn't even a proper quarterstaff, just some long branch he'd found washed up on the beach, which wouldn't stand up to any real punishment at all. Didn't matter. He walked a lot, so he could use a walking stick.

Jorin's arm was still sore from that time he was kicked out of yet another tavern, the Akalaks laughing uproariously at his unceremonious exit. Jorin sighed. Tough crowd, these Akalak. He'd have to step up his game if he wanted to make it in this town.

He'd never wanted to do this. Learn a weapon, that is. Truth be told, Jorin hated violence, he thought it was so crude and uncivilized. But he realized that in a frequently dangerous world, it was necessary to have the means of defending oneself, if only to keep one's skin whole. Jorin sighed, and hefted his "staff".

The truth was, Jorin had no clue what the petch he was doing. For the first few moments, he swung the branch wildy, and lost his grip on it a few times. Finally, deciding that wildly swinging probably wasn't a smart move, he decided to do some systematic analysis.

Taking out his books, ink, and quills, Jorin started to jot down some figures. So the length of the stick was this long, and he was this high, which meant that the force exerted at the end of the staff was this, because of the weight distribution. Velocity, he knew, was highest at the end of the staff, but there was also the tensile strength to worry about.

He concluded that the best place to grip the "staff" was about two-thirds down, where he could have firmer control over the weapon without losing too much power in the swing. He figured that, because the branch was not a sword, it shouldn't be used like one. The weapon seemed more suited to large, circular movements, combined with quick thrusts, abusing it's reach, staying outside the deadly arc of a shorter sword or axe.

On defense, Jorin figured that he could probably block an overhead swing, then twist one of the ends of the staff for a butt-stroke that could potentially work. But it was all guesswork. Mathematically, all this would work. But without a sparring partner, he had no idea if any of these techniques were even viable in practice.

Nonetheless, Jorin continued to swing the branch around. Some practice is better than no practice, he thought as he continued.

[Silnas Windhoof]

The seaspray licked at the bare skin of her arms as Silnas leaned forward, hands gripping the shoulder rigs of the yvas. Skytrotter whinnied in delight beneath her as Silnas urged the graceful black-and-white Strider into a gallop, her hooves pounding the sands as Drykas and horse breathed as one. A weight lifted off Silnas' shoulders, a rare smile flashing across her face, her back arched as she leaned forward, feeling Skytrotter's mane tickling her cheek. This was what it meant to be a Drykas, for horse and human to be one. At least until a sand-colored shape dove in front of Skytrotter's hooves, causing the horse to neigh and rear. Silnas kept her seat, having to grab fistfuls of mane in order to do so, and let out a flurry of curse words. Skytrotter slammed her front hooves deep into the sand, getting the black fur covered in it as Silnas leaned to look at the cat that had gotten in her way. "Cat!" She flashed her hands in agitation, using her native Pavi tongue. "I run, you get in my way! Disrespect, always disrespect!" Silnas the cat bared his fangs at the human Silnas, his hackles up. It didn't seem to bother her any, as Silnas simply grabbed her two-headed spear and prodded the hunting animal away from her horse, earning her angry hisses and a swat with claws. But the human only slid the cat on the sand, no matter how angry it got, and then hoisted her spear along the saddle again, urging Skytrotter into a walk. "Stupid animal," Silnas muttered. "Should have left it to die..." The cat was still walking behind them, even if its pride was now wounded. Silnas could feel the animal's eyes burning into the back of her neck, but she ignored it, patting the neck of her mare as the horse cooled off. "My girl," Silnas said, then became confused when Skytrotter lifted her white head, ears pricked. Silnas followed her horse's gaze, and both of them found themselves looking at the same man, appearing to have a seizure with a giant stick in his hand. No, no... Silnas squinted, and then snorted. 'He's practicing... Though with that sort of swing, he isn't going to get anywhere.' She couldn't resist the bark of laughter that came out of her, watching the man flail about like an idiot. Notes : (If ye don't mind my joining in here )

[Jorin Ertihan]

Season of Summer, Day 45, 513 AV

Jorin heard the laughter behind him and turned, his face beet red from his exertions on the beach. He gave her a sheepish grin, and laughed with her.

"I must look like a right idiot, huh?" he chuckled at her.

"Honestly, I haven't the slightest clue what I'm doing," Jorin confessed, leaning on the branch tiredly. "At least I'm getting some exercise out of it! Anyway, it's nice to meet you! I'm Jorin Ertihan. What's your name? Is that your horse?"

Jorin looked at the horse with wide eyes. He'd seen horses before, of course, but this one seemed ... different. Powerful, and graceful. And even a bit more intelligent then some of the dumb brutes he'd watch drag heavy carts about.

"I don't suppose you know anything about fighting with a quarterstaff?" Jorin asked hopefully. Then he realized, it was probable that even if she did, she'd not teach him for free. "Oh! I ... suppose you'd want to be paid for your time. I wish I could afford that ... perhaps I could compose a poem for you? For your horse perhaps? I don't have very much money ..."

Jorin's heart sank a bit. If there was one thing he'd learned, it was that while art was certainly fulfilling, few were rarely willing to accept it as payment. He needed to find regular work soon, or things might get difficult for him.

[Silnas Windhoof]

What smile Silnas was wearing disappeared the moment that the boy began to talk. Boy what she considered him, despite the fact that they were around the same age, the other had a softness of cheek that was not present on anyone who had a hard life, instead pampered and never having to fight for his next meal. He also spoke far, far too much for Silnas' taste. Her basic grasp of Common was failing her for the moment, but so was her disinterest in the subject. Skytrotter too began to paw the sand, blowing forcefully out her nose. It was now, when rider was mounted on horse, that the shocking similarity of them could be seen, which would further reinforce the idea that this was no ordinary horse. The Strider's body was, for the most part, black in coloration, with white in the mane and tail... but it was the face that drew the most attention, the fur of its head a brilliant white... and the horse, like rider, had its right eye blue, and left eye brown. And both were very close to leaving the boy to his... stick-swinging. Silnas sat up a bit in the yvas, her lips curling a bit around her teeth as she spoke in Common. "No name. Cannot help those who are... how to say... too stupid." She touched her two-headed spear when he talked about training with a quarter staff. Her eyes gleamed when he talked about possibly paying her, only for that glimmer to die shortly as he mentioned poems. Silnas made some agitated hand gestures that probably translated to something rude in Pavi as she spat in Common. "Horse can't eat from poem. Rider can't eat from poem. Minaz or nothing. Have fun with.... stick. Perhaps glassbeak won't kill you outright in Sea of Grass." Silnas clucked with her tongue, pressing her heels to her horse. Skytrotter nickered before the two of them began to walk, with Silnas' cat slinking from the shadows and falling behind the horse and rider.

[Uleru]

"I can be paid with poetry and words."

The voice can be heard a few lengths out to sea. And if you were to look closely you could see a head and pair of narrow shoulders that seem to have detached from the choppy water. The feminine voice would make you suspect a feminine body, but it's hard to tell since she has yet to adopt a colour, and so blends perfectly with the water.

Uleru truthfully hasn't been watching for long. The strange movements of the human male caught her attention briefly as she passed the shore, and she had wandered in for a closer look. She had just been about to leave the man to his flailing when the Drykas arrived. And it was the offer of artistic payment, as well as the woman's arrogance, that won her over. She wants to play now that she has an opponent and a prize. That is what makes a game!

"It's just a different kind of sustenance, eh?" the Otani continues, as if she has been part of this conversation all along.

She drops back under again and swims fluidly to shore. When she walks out water cascades down her body and soaks the sand to a dark, gritty colour where she walks. She has donned her most recognizable shape, and so stands shorter than both of them. The Drykas woman in particular makes her look incredibly fragile. As that woman could only be described as hawkish; with her pericing eyes, sharp nose and a straight and powerful seat on her horse. Really, she just looks powerful. Like she will step off that horse and still be eight feet tall.

And Uleru can see that the man, while less impressive, still has that toned landscape beneath his shirt when the wind hits him right. He is built like a dancer, or an acrobat. And maybe he is, who knows? Who else deals in words.

She stops a few feet away from them both and smiles.

"I know nothing about weapons, but I can make a decent opponent. If worse comes to worse I make a durable target" she shrugs, but you could almost suspect that she sees this new occupation as a novices punching bag as a delightful proposition.

"You can join too, Drykas." she winks cheekily. "Want to see how you fair with monsters? You don't even have to pay for the privilege."

[Jorin Ertihan]

Season of Summer, Day 45, 513 AV

The woman seemed so angry, but Jorin detected more than that. An abiding sadness. She didn't want to be friends. Not with him, not with anybody. Strangely, he knew how that felt; he'd often felt that he wasn't good enough to be friends with. Not like his genius father or his prodigy mother. Compared to them he was so ... ordinary.

Jorin was quite certain this severe woman was not angry or sad for the same reasons, but that didn't change the fact that she was. Nor did it change the fact that, clearly, she didn't want to help him. He sighed sadly. Such was life.

"I ... I'm terribly sorry. I suppose I am pretty stupid, huh? Well, if you don't mind, I guess I'll go back to ..."

"I can be paid with poetry and words."

The words sang out, it seemed, from the waves themselves. Jorin looked about wildly, his eyes shining at this new mystery. Who had said that? Could it be another Kelvic? No, they couldn't speak in their animal form. Was it a Ghost? Jorin almost laughed. He had no idea how ghosts worked.

Then something remarkable happened. A woman seemed to just ... appear, out of the waves, like the waters parted and there she was. She was slender, and hued like the waves she came from. She appeared almost human, except for a smattering of scales and webbing, but her hair seemed almost permanently damp, and she herself gave off a watery, ethereal quality.

The woman continue to speak, glancing over once or twice to the tall, proud woman on her black horse. And then made a shocking propsal.

"My lady!" Jorin cried. "I must admit your appearance shocked me, and, truly I am grateful you would be so kind as to offer yourself as a target, but I cannot accept such a thing. I detest violence myself; I only practice with this stick so that, in the unfortunate circumstance I must defend myself, I would not be entirely helpless. But I could not in a million years attack someone who does not defend!"

Jorin's face registered his disgust at such an act. So uncivilized!

"Perhaps a poem instead?" he proposed to the blue woman. Laying down his "staff", Jorin seized his book and his pen, eager to resume his preferred art. Truly, this was the better use of his time. What business had he with the weapons of war?

After scribbling a bit into the book, he cleared his throat.

"The sun shall set upon oceans blue
Setting them ablaze in brilliant hue

Here upon these windswept sands
Whose mighty cliffs Riverfall commands

Stands a woman from the seas
Wrapped with the wave's memories

The poet dances from his post
For she had risen from the coast

Who was this woman, azure skinned
Whose hair did not dance in the wind?

Many questions he wished to pose
As who she was and why she chose

To show herself here on sunny day
When she seemed so happy, swimming away

But time grows heavy, and verse grows long
It's time to end this poet's song

So the poet sets down his pen
And silence reigns, once again."

Jorin paused a moment, considering the verse he made. It was ... acceptable, he supposed, although he was unhappy with the fourth and fifth stanzas. Regardless, he'd have time to tweak them later. For now, he gave the azure woman a deep, theatrical bow.

"I thank you for your patience," he said, as he smiled at her gently. "I know it wasn't the best poem, but I hope you will accept it anyway!"

He turned to the stern woman with the horse.

"As I said earlier, I apologize if I have offended you in any way. I suppose ... there really isn't anything I can give you if all you want is miza." He looked at her sadly.

Jorin walked over and picked up his stick. He was growing quite fond of the silly thing, even if it was quite useless as a weapon. It had grown on him. Maybe he would keep it. Leaning on said branch, Jorin smiled at the azure lady.

"I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself," he said. "I don't know how much of our earlier conversation you heard, but I am Jorin Ertihan, late of the Traveling Thespians actor's troupe. Nowadays, I entertain for a few coin when I can, and write verse, when I can't! Or at least I try."

He gave her a sheepish grin. Who are you? I've never met your kind before. I suppose it is a rude thing to ask, but what are you?

[Silnas Windhoof]

The politeness of his words almost moved Silnas. Almost. Horses did not live on words and pretty lies, anymore than their riders. Skytrotter's tail swished, representing her rider's agitation. Before Silnas could speak, a voice had drifted toward them. Skytrotter whinnied, throwing her neck back as she chomped at the air, her eyes growing wide as she tried to search for the noise, hooves prancing and stamping the sand. Pavi began to flutter almost unbidden from Silnas' lips as she rubbed her horse's neck, kissing the horse's mane while her eyes scanned the area for the source. When the woman emerged from the ocean, she was not any race that Silnas could identify. The faint scales and webbing told her this was no human, and her coloring even seemed to... shift in the light. It put Silnas on edge. She didn't seem like a thing that could be hit, or beaten down, even if her figure also spoke of a life lived with no hardships. Even her cat was giving a warning growl, belly brushing the sand as it watched the newcomer. Once her horse's breathing evened, Silnas sat back up, holding the shoulder handles and her two-headed spear, her gaze fixed on the Otani. "Apologize," Silnas demanded, her Common not as broken sounding as before. "You startled my Strider." She ended up using the Pavi word for "horse" in her emotional state. It was what the strange woman said after that caused Silnas' blood to boil. With a smooth motion the double-headed spear was in her hand, drawn parallel to the horse, the first tine pointed at the Otani. "Monster? I see no monster. Monsters are beaks-of-glass and valispar. Teeth and claws. I killed monsters. Seen them kill. Zith and Symenestra. You are none." Silnas clicked her tongue. "No Drykas fears what they can see." And then there was the poem. The disgust that Silnas had for it flowed from her, and even her horse's ears laid flat along her skull in displeasure. Once it was over, Silnas just snorted. "I see why you have no work." She dismounted in one smooth motion, something that she had done many times before. Skytrotter nuzzled her shoulder, still watching the newcomers as the Dryak hunting cat pushed against Silnas' legs. "Do you challenge a Drykas, ocean-dweller?" For now, the bumbling actor was not in Silnas' focus.

[Uleru]

Uleru cant help but stare at the impromptu bard as he delivers his poem with all the pomp and grand gesturing he uses when he speaks. It wasn't that his unique way of speaking has taken her completely off guard, though it is strange, it was how he called her 'lady'. His entire half of the conversation seems to be spoken to a flesh-and-blood human. He was even concerned for her safety. She is an Otani, a moulding, an order of monster, and he is a step away from asking her how her day has been.

And that makes her very, very happy.

"Thank you", she coos with delight, and her eyes sparkle with the novelty of this new piece. "I will remember it and sing it out to sea so that it will be passed on." Isn't that what every artist wants? Immorality for their work? And if its true then there is no better audience than the Otani, who have no lifespan at all. She is quasi-mortal, in a way. But the fiery woman dismounts and she can see that there is at least one person in the world who wishes to test the limits of her mortality.

Well, thats not exacly right. Her mind flinches from the memory of the Myrian bent over her, trying to rip apart her face with his filed teeth, and sawing at her body from shoulder to hip with his lakan to try and cleave her in two. After everything else she has been through, after snarling Myrians, ghosts and angry gods, she is sure she can handle a pissed off woman with a horse and an angry cat.

But before she is to address the woman, she must answer the man. "My name is Uleru", she begins, "I am Laviku's servant, one of the Otani."

She bows for him with an old sweeping motion nobody uses nowadays (and she hasn't used in over sixty years) but she has a feeling he would appreciate it. And then, finally, she turns back to the woman. She seems to think she isn't a monster either, though for very different reasons.

"I could grow some if you'd like. Claws and teeth, I mean. Would that make you feel better?" she asks innocently, hooking her fingers and clawing at the air to reiterate, though she wont actually be able to change her appearance again until she is in the water. And even if she did, they would be nothing more than festive decoration.

"A challenge? No! Lets call it a game. A game with prizes." she smiles impishly, swinging her hips back and forth as she thinks. "Let see, if I win, you must teach Jorin what you know", she says carefully, tapping her lip as she thinks. "And I would like a lock of your hair." she adds almost absently, her collecting habit sparkling greedily in her eyes.

"You can have what you like if you win. Now come! Play games with the ocean, land-strider." she barks gleefully, and her rocking gets more intense, "I haven't had the pleasure of a woman's company in a very long time!"

[Silnas Windhoof]

'Otani?' Silnas racked her brain as the strange water-bred girl introduced herself. Servant to a god, no less. Not one that she worshiped regularly... though there was doubt that this woman could be a "servant", so highly revered. Did she have one of the marks? Not that Silnas would be able to tell if she did... She remembered some of the other Drykas carried blessings from the gods on their skin, even being born with it, but they showed theirs. And with the girl's... skin... it was hard to tell. Still, Silnas knew that she had stepped into something here, but it was far too late to back out now. Not with her pride and reputation at stake. She watched the Otani bowing, raising an eyebrow as she tried to figure out what the ridiculous gesture could possibly detonate. It was at odds with anything else Silnas had seen. Uleru had begun speaking to her anyways, and Silnas followed along as best she could, crossing her arms in front of her chest and burying one of the spear's tines into the sand. "If you can, you should," she said simply. "Not for me. For you. Otani." The word fell off her tongue, and she couldn't quite form it. But... then the strange one proposed a game. While Silnas tried to feign it, the perk of her eyebrows indicated her interest. Skytrotter blew at the back of her head, and even the cat was watching the Otani. She snorted. "Maybe. ... I only want mizas. Need food for my horse. Do you have that as... prize?" She did take a step back when the Otani mentioned a lock of her hair, as if fearful the other might cut it off. It had taken a long time for it grow out. The Otani did earn a barking laugh out of her with the land-strider. "I have nothing to lose, plenty to gain." She took the spear out of the sand, twirling it in her hand. "Now, what games shall we play?" Silnas simply decided to decline to comment on what else the Otani had to say. The "pleasure" comment was... unnerving, to say in the least. Perhaps if she ignored it, it would go away.

[Jorin Ertihan]

Season of Summer, Day 45, 513 AV

"ENOUGH!"

Jorin's voice, loud and strong, rang across the beachside. A flock of gulls, startled by the sudden noise, took wing in the distance. It was a tone that brooked little argument. And years of being an actor, of having to shout over the sound of dropping plates, of laughing drunks and tavern life in order to be heard, served him well here.

He was a little surprised himself. This was not a tone he was used to taking. Then, with a start, Jorin realized where he'd heard it before.

Enough, Jorin, go to bed.

Enough, Jorin, no more excuses.

ENOUGH, Jorin! This discussion is over!

His father. He had turned into his father.

Jorin took a moment to collect himself. He strode purposefully up to the fierce woman, despite the dangerous-looking weapon she carried. Jorin drew himself up and looked her directly in the eyes. No fear.

"You should be ashamed. One word, and you're willing to spill blood? One insult, and you're willing to fight? Are you really so weak, that you'd be so easily goaded? What is wrong with you? Now if you want to train me, I would be grateful. If you are not then leave. No one keeps you here!"

It was a lecture straight from his father's mouth. No more of the lyrical tones of his mother, the soft gentleness of her smiles. This was his father talking now. Harsh. Pragmatic. Mathematical.

Jorin turned to the watery woman. Uleru, she said her name was. Of the Otani. He hesitated, then he bowed to her, mimicking her earlier movement. It was, perhaps, not as graceful, but he felt that he should honor her the same way she honored him.

"Lady Uleru, of the Otani, I apologize on her behalf. There is no need for violence, here in this place of serenity and beauty. If you'd like, we could, perhaps talk instead? I would dearly love to hear stories of your people! There will always be time for practice, some other day."