[Flashback] Survival is Paramount [Amondaris]

by **Amireh** on August 15th, 2010, 9:43 am

72nd Fall, 509 AV
Taldera Tundra, Mid-Noon

Snow was so similar to sand. Just cold. The thick blanket of white that covered the ground stretched so far as the eye could see, the few rays of light that penetrated the over-cast skies reflected back in a queer exchange. Soft, sensual zephyrs tossed the occasional flurry into the air, powered snow carried forth in an ever shifting wave of indeterminable heights. Yet the tundra held such different emotions. While the deserts were mysterious, this place was so full of nostalgia, wonder, every inch covered in an ephemeral material that changed with the seasons themselves. The crisp, cool atmosphere brought with it a serenity found nowhere else within the whole of the world, quite, calm, as if here the gods themselves found pause. The divines shaped the way of things, but did they appreciate their own artistry?

Tucked beside a cliff of sheer rock Amireh's camp was a humble one. The cave her tent inhabited was little more than a hole in the wall, deep enough to keep a horse, perhaps, but otherwise there was not much to to denote the settling of a sentient being. Fit for no more than a single person the housing consisted of a single, circular tent packed to the brim with supplies and other oddities. Various items were discarded about the 'site', debris and other signs of civilization, all left to freeze in the unforgiving Tundra. A flickering light cast shadows from the innards of the winter-worn shelter, with the silhouetted form of a very obviously feminine patron plastered to the front side. Another strange shape sprung every few minutes or so, the presence of which left the nearby mount, a Frostmarch breed (currently bereft of a saddle), in all a manner of confused and alert, her features shifting in the fears of stalking predator.

Amireh cursed. Loudly. She felt her mind wander before the incantation had ended and there she sat, her legs crossed one over the other, her eyes locked in a never yielding battle with the flickering flame of a half-extinguished candle. She was already tired. Nevertheless, Amireh's shoulders rolled and she brushed her hair back, tucking it down inside the tight material that covered her torso. In all her attire was much more efficient than usual, consisting of little more than a Winterbane Robe, the slick, white material clipped to various limbs to both keep warmth in and the additional lengths from catching. On anything. Especially fire. The young woman took a few moments in her initial failure to ponder the fire in its waning existence, her hands held over as they absorbed the rising heat. Her gloves were left aside for a purpose, one than she wished needed less focus. A hefty sigh and a few more curses later, Amireh's crystalline gaze lowered and her brow softened, her eyes closing to allow the sweet grasp of nothingness to take her mind.

"I am nothing."

The beginning of her mantra was sweet, short. Once the words slipped from her mouth in Shiber both hands began to weave around one another, each performing their own, circular motion in opposing patterns. If she had taken the time to think about the action there would no doubt be mistakes. Moment by moment Amireh found her body became lighter, her mind swept into a state of peace, relaxation. The hair on the back of her neck stiffened, then fell, the Djed of her own body circulating in its own, concurrent motion. Only seconds passed.

"There is nothing."

The phrase held no meaning. Just as the words themselves lead to a void, the woman herself found no purpose, no design to the collection of script. Pieces of her own being started to slip into a state of darkness, of absence. Faster. Her fingers intertwined as they crossed one another, tips just barely connecting as they grasped in a desperate effort to find one another. A small, streaking black energy shifted from each palm, almost intangible in its brief, temporary existence. Power flowed.

"There is only nothing."

The being held little focus now. Its mind was calmed, bereft of thought, of words. Lips continued to move, to whisper in some strange, guttural tones, sounds that held no purpose for the one that used them. Only a singular sense of touch remained. Invisible energy soared through the body that sat so still, coursing through the veins, to the arms, and finally through the hands. A crackle of nothingness formed in the very center of the constructed sphere, two palms finally meeting as fingers grasped at the circular creation. A loud clap echoed outside of the tent. Gently, two hands now balled together began to expand, ever so slightly brought apart as a ball of sheer, black nothingness sat in the center, hovering just above the length of the flame below.

Amireh opened her eyes. Poof! The energy vanished and the woman found her senses restored, back to her initial state of irritation. Blasted magic. With a few more choice curses in Vani the young woman unfurled her legs and crawled to the edge of her tent. She pushed the flap aside and screamed into the night, her normally supple soprano filled with rage.

by **Amondaris** on August 17th, 2010, 1:20 am

Today, was one of Amondaris' extraordinarily rare days off.

It wasn't that he had someone to tell him what days he could take off and what days he had to "work", really. Well, aside from himself. And oh, what a harsh taskmaster he was. His drive to improve himself and further his aptitude in the myriad skills he considered vital dictated that he had to keep up a nigh constant regimen of combat practice, hunting and all the traits necessary to succeed in such ventures; Strength, stamina, speed. He pushed himself hard, harder than he probably should, but he was never satisfied with his progress. He was never strong enough, never fast enough, he was just..Not enough.

And so he trained. And he trained. And he trained, to the point where a sane man might stop and wonder if he had acquired an unhealthy obsession. Usually, his family was content enough to let him do as he pleased, long familiar with tenacity with which he approached...Well, everything.

But today, ah, today, was different. Why? Icilae had put her foot down.

Yes, Icilae. The dainty, petite baby of the house, the quiet one with the big eyes, who possessed a sombre regard that most found comical in one so young. Amondaris, however, knew different. Icilae, or Icy, as he was wont to call her, was an extraordinarily serious child, never prone to the flights of fancy or outrageous tantrums that most children her age were well known for. Instead, she was reserved, to the point one could consider her grave, speaking rarely, and when she did, it was with the grim weight of one much older and world-weary than she. Lady like, their mother called her, a proper young madam. Likely she considered her grave mannerism a phase that would pass with time. Her brother was not so sure.

Certainly, she wasn't incapable of emotion or affection, often displaying the enormous love she held for her brother through hugs and gifts of peculiar trinkets she had lovingly carved. Of all his little sisters, she idolised him the most. Of all his sisters, she was the one whom he feared his departure would effect the worst, but he told himself she would adapt. She was quiet, but there was a steel to her that some of the harridans that visited her mother could never hope to match. Morwen help the poor petcher who she decided to marry.

The thick soles of his white-furred boots crunched heavily upon the snow as he squinted out towards the seemingly endless expanse of tundra, lost in his thoughts. Icilae had decided Amondaris had been pushing himself too hard, for too long. The sombre little girl had let him know in no uncertain terms that today, he would be relaxing, or risk incurring her ire. She'd even threatened to take his beloved grosse messers away! An unconcious, rare smile blossomed into being upon his lips, a deep yellow veined with pale tinges of gold gilding the irises of his eyes as he fondly remembered the big, grave orbs that had fixed him with a stare that would brook no argument. A little warrior, that one.

So he had left, his baby sister informing him that if he so much as used his swords to scratch himself that she would know, and so would he, when he returned home. That had been at sunrise, more than a few bells ago. He had been essentially just wandering for the better part of the day now, content to simply appreciate the frozen beauty of the surrounding country, his thoughts roaming with much the same ease as the man himself.

And so it was that he was in the vicinity of a certain cliff that sheltered a certain female, when the peaceful silence of the midday tundra was shattered by a piercing scream, the shriek filled with fury. His gaze snapping to the rough area where he judged the scream to have emanated from, the ghostly figure set off at a steady lope, covering the ground between him and the source of the disturbance with impressive speed, the spiked soles of his boots helping to prevent him from slipping on the treacherous terrain.

He slowed to a stop, his heavy footfalls kicking up small bursts of white powder as he approached, a faint frown creasing the pale skin of his brow. What was this woman doing out here, by herself..? Where was the cause of her scream? Troubled, Amondaris slowly moved his hand to settle it upon th e hilt of his sword.Lifting his other hand in greeting, he regarded the woman warily for a moment before speaking. "Greetings, Lady. I heard you screaming and sought to investigate." He gestured slowly towards her, a horizontal wave of his leather and fur-strapped hand. "Is all well?"

by **Amireh** on August 17th, 2010, 10:15 am

What the hell? Amireh's gaze found itself drawn away from the camp, the cave, focused now on what appeared to be a charging yeti. Or the abominable snow man. With a sword. Queer. She shifted her weight and turned toward the incoming figure, her arms folding up beneath her bosom and flattening the robe on her stomach. A brow quirked to the side as watched, humored, and the oncoming charge; was he intending to kill her? No, the blade was sheathed. What then? Was he in trouble? Maybe just crazy. In any case Amireh followed the man with her eyes, the irises of which were now shaded a solid, crystalline blue. There was something strange in that stare; a piercing, inhuman mesh of ancestries. While not quite Vantha, the woman could testify as one, if not for the eyes. Admittedly, she was curious to this fellow, so she deemed it appropriate to acquiesce whatever request he were to make. Or, at least consider it. Most likely ignore it.

Lady? Oh, this was going to be fun, from what she caught of the Vani anyway. She got the basics, at least. Amireh's lips curled into a smirk and she turned away from the man, instead crossing the small distance to her horse. That was her original intention. She reached up and onto the saddle, fiddling for a bit until her hand crossed over into one of the flanking bags. After some effort she produced a rather large, old tome, one bound in leather and worn with the passage of time. Only when she had the item did the woman deem it appropriate to respond to her newfound 'companion'. Her voice was a light soprano, nowhere near the shriek she had released only moments prior.

"How charming. A knight in shinning armor are well?" She flipped her hair when she spoke in Common, her eyes lighting up with a dull sort of humor. In her own way Amireh was playing a game. "Out save maidens this fine, fine day my lord?" She mocked him, but her voice was bereft of any sardonic intentions. "I'm in no trouble, unless you've brought some with you. In which case I'll have to ask you to shoo."

Amireh let him chew on that. While he considered her words she took her own investigations in hand, her eyes sweeping across the form of Amondaris with a curious gaze. Tall, fit, no doubt strong, the man had a rugged sensibility about him, a true wilderness explorer. No doubt he could hack her into pieces with that blade, or even just beat her into submission if he wanted; what was she to do if he moved to violence? Enjoy it, maybe. Or send his head into the void. The examination continued with such machinations, all her focus spent on physicality. It was not that she did not like men, she just thought them disgusting. Why, with the hair, the tanned muscles, the rock hard exterior, none of it played to her sensibilities, and this particular chap was no different. Noble, no doubt, from his rush to aid her, but honor and chivalry had no business within Amireh's influence. They did little more than waste her time.

by **Amondaris** on August 17th, 2010, 1:36 pm

Watching with narrowed eyes as the woman moved to her horse, his fingers slowly curling about the handles of both of his swords, Amondaris ran through an endless number of scenarios in his head. If she pulled a crossbow, he could roll to one side, and at worst take a bolt to the shoulder. He could cross the distance between himself and the woman well before she could load another bolt into the weapon, and summarily disarm her. She didn't exactly look like much of a prize fighter, but you could never be too careful. If it was magic, well..He'd never fought magic before. It would be a learning experience, to say the least.

As the item she was retrieving was revealed to a large tome of some kind, the white hunter's twin blades hissed out of their sheathes, the man himself dropping into a lower, readied stance. Arching an eyebrow as she spoke, he moved his blades to a defensive stance, one lifted to cross his chest, the other held low, the point facing towards it's mate. Warily, he spoke, his rough baritone possessing a wintry touch to it, "A knight wouldn't survive a day out here. Shining armour tends to catch unwanted attention. " He jerked his head back towards the way he'd came, his words full of contempt as he continued. "As does screaming. Someone screaming out here is either very soon going to be very dead, or is very, very stupid." He turned his uppermost grosse messer to point at her, distaste written plain across his features. "You do not appear to be dead or dying. You, it seems, fall into the latter category. Do you not possess a brain, child? What if I had been a large predator, or a brigand? You'd be dead, or worse, all because of what? Stub your precious little toe? Prince Charming not returning your affections?" What was wrong with this woman? Of course, it was perfectly possible she had simply done so in order to draw in hapless idiots who sought to aid a woman in trouble, yet he had not seen any tracks or hints of accomplices. A powerful mage, then? Perhaps. No matter what she was, she was an annoying little thing, all mockery and arrogance, despite being, on his eyes, far too thick to have any business out here in the harsh tundra. "Unless that light piece of reading you're holding is a collection of bed time stories, I'm going to assume it's something to do with magic. This a trap, child? Some clumsy ambush, perhaps?"

OOCApologies about the brevity, brain's not on form today.

by **Amireh** on August 17th, 2010, 2:10 pm

Amireh chortled. How fantastic! She watched Amondaris brandish his blades and put on a show, adapting to what she imagined was some expert's combat stance. Strange. There was no fear, no anger, not even irritation; her eyes possessed only amusement, a deep sense of humor echoing into those vibrant, blue irises. She remained still while he spoke and made his gestures, tossing this idea and that about without asking any real questions. Delightful. With the time that passed Amireh kept herself busy by taking a closer look at this 'man', a boy more-like, one that appeared similar in age. Tall. Very tall. She revisited her original idea of him beating her in combat and changed the image to utter destruction. Even if he did not know how to fight all Amondaris had to do was sit on her. More than a foot over her head he towered, clad in his wilderness savvy protection and wielding those swords as if he were some great warrior. They looked more like knives to her. Big knives.

"Oh, you are darling." She started again in the common tongue, her voice like that of a mother to a young pup. "So far as the wildlife is concerned a screech is just another form of nature; it's the smell, love. My horse is in greater danger than I ever was." With a start she moved back over to the tent and flipped the flap, depositing the book just inside. The candle was almost out now, damn it. With a dramatic sigh Amireh turned about, her supple frame brought into Amonadaris' view once more for his viewing pleasure. She pouted at the cold, sure that if she was not clad in such a gaudy attire that this whole conversation would be so much different. Her attention was on the horse, though, and she crossed the distance, fumbling with the packs for a second time.

"Hypothetical situations not withstanding, dear, reality has brought you to my humble little camp. I'm guessing, now, I could be wroooong." She hummed a bit to herself as she withdrew a candle, inspecting the wick for any imperfections. "But I don't think you want to kill me, otherwise I'd be dead by now. Or rape me for that matter. Might be a bad idea, though," She grinned and turned back toward the man, a wicked smile spreading across her lips. "I bite."

This was fun! With a playful paw, Amireh flipped her hair again and returned to the tent, slipping the candle inside and lighting it with what remained of its companion. How short its life was.

OOCI do not care about length at all. You could write five sentences for all it matters, less for me to read foo'.

by **Amondaris** on August 31st, 2010, 8:46 pm

The ignorance of this woman was appalling. A human scream, a natural sound that predator's paid no heed to? Was she mad? Slowly, he straightened himself, rising out of his low stance, and regarded her with undiminished wariness. "No animal screams like a person, this far up north. Vixens do, when they're in heat, but not here. A scream indicates weakness, injury or something similarly unfortunate befalling someone." He gestured at the horse with a slow wave of his blade, nodding at the beast, stating, "Predators are opportunists. If someone screams, there is a chance for an easy meal. The smell of a horse, without blood, is indicative of possible armed humanoids, thus they are naturally inclined to be wary of such. Don't try to talk about survival out here when it's painfully obvious you haven't the faintest idea of what you're talking about." He sighed inwardly as it was becoming increasingly clear he would either have to escort her back to the city, or wait nearby and make certain she arrived back safely. He really and truly hated babysitting puffed up buffoons who thought they could just stroll out into the wilderness and play at adventure. More than a few had died from doing just that and, annoying as she was, he wasn't about to let that happen to this particular puffed up buffoon.

Sheathing his blades without flourish or show, the young hunter folded his arms lightly across his armoured chest, the cured leather of his vambraces rasping dryly against the white-enameled metal covering his torso. Arching his brow at the woman once more, he said, "You put on a pretty facade of bravado, Lady, but I should think it would crumble like so much fresh snow were you faced with actual murder or rape. You would do well to learn that a barbed tongue and a reckless attitude to danger will get you into trouble in short order." He cast his gaze about the surroundings, more out of habit than anything else, keeping an ear out for any tell-tale noises of danger. Paying only a cursory amount of attention to Amireh, whom he had already deemed little to no threat, he continued to speak as she entered the tent, his gaze roving all the while. "The fact that you should not be out here aside, what are you doing out here? Suicidal, perhaps?"

OOCI've been away and procrastinating, thus I apologise about the silly delay. My muse seems to have up and died, so forgive the suck!

by **Amireh** on March 25th, 2011, 1:27 pm

"Oh, you are just too adorable!" Amireh laughed from within the tent. With an amused sigh she leaned aside and pushed back the flap, her head popping out to get a better view of her would-be guardian. He was handsome. At there was that. She most definitely approved.

"Well, come on then, get in here, otherwise how will you stop me from ending my life?!" The banter was fun. Too much fun. Gracefully, she withdrew from the entrance to her mobile adobe and turned her attention back to the now full, flickering candle. Hrm. Perhaps inviting in a giant, glaring distraction was not the best of ideas. She was having enough trouble focusing on minor portals as it was. With how trusted magic was she would be lucky if the beast of a man did not just run her through with those oh-so very nifty swords of his. But then again maybe. Just maybe he was not a total tool. Well, even if he was that meant she could use him. Staying a grunt the girl reached back toward her book and cracked it open, the spin resting comfortable on her lap between crossed legs. She cared little for how much skin came as a result. Her eyes passed over the pages with a distinct sort of observation, one that came with a singular passion and an acute sort of intelligence. Despite the fact this girl was not a moron. Perhaps naive, but not stupid.

Ah. That's what she was looking for. The nursery rhymes that were her voiding guidelines. The author of her spell book was insane to say the least, but puzzling through the riddles had revealed a great deal many insights. Most of which had something to say about sharing the art of Voiding with those of a mundane variety.

"You see? No suicide in here. Just a little study is all."

by **Amondaris** on March 25th, 2011, 2:47 pm

Adorable?
Not exactly a descriptor this particular youth was accustomed to being utilised when concerning him. After all, he looked intimidating enough, did he not? Not to mention his exceptionally frosty demeanour when faced with anything or anyone bar animals. Oh, yes. A regular, adorable people person, was Amondaris.
Muttering under his breath and cursing this acid-tongued little daddy's girl would no doubt be unseemly, and he didn't exactly want to give her cause to be any more..Humourous than she was right now. So he kept his peace, resigned to suffering her presence until she decided to flounce back to safety. I'd rather fight a Dire Bear than deal with this. Women.
He deserved a medal for this.

Heaving the sigh of a man much put upon, he approached the tent apprehensively, taking great care to make as little noise as he possibly could. Women were dangerous things when startled overmuch. They had all those sharp nails, and they bit, but the worst was how deadly they were with words. Nightmares, all of them! Halting before the flap of the entrance, he inhaled deeply, taking a steady, calming breath, the brisk snap of the icy air serving to settle his thoughts. Mostly. She was comely, the subtle curves and flare of her hips serving to draw the young hunter's eyes and, if he were honest, his thoughts. Mildly irritated with himself at the improper route his thoughts were happily careening down, he nontheless couldn't really blame himself. He did, after all, spend the vast majority of his time with nothing but snow and the occasional roving beast for company. A man feels the lack of suitably voluptuous females after a while.

Swallowing, and with a slightly shaky hand, he drew back the flap and tentatively entered into the female's den, with much trepidation.
..To find himself drawing up short, discovering that the confines of the tent were very limited indeed. This perforce meant that the supple form of Amireh was a little too close to the large, somewhat panicked youth, the resultant effect of which causing his eyes to flare a lurid yellow in alarm. Forcing himself to not backpeddle and make an utter idiot of himself, he clenched his jaw shut and tried desperately to calm the whirling maelstrom of his thoughts. This is just like a combat situation. Don't panic. If you panic at the unexpected, you die. Same principle here. Don't panic. Breathe. Calm.
Employing the same technique he had developed to calm his mind when fighting, he envisioned in his mind's eye a sword. The blade was long, curving slightly at the tip, the polished sheen gleaming like burnished silver. The grip was plain and worn, wrapped in strips of dark leather that showed obvious signs of use. A plain weapon, yet one possessing a keen edge.
I am the sword. The sword does not falter. The sword does not know fear. The gleam of the metallic weapon faded, a coating of frost sweeping across it like a miniature tide. I am the sword. The sword knows not anger. The sword does not hesitate. Following in the wake of the frost, a thick sheet of ice spread over the weapon, perfectly smooth and unmarred, like glass. I am the sword. He held to the image of the blade, now rimed completely in ice and streaming a chill mist gently, and felt himself relax, and grow still. His eyes returned to their typical, glacial blue as he shifted his gaze to the book in Amireh's hands. "Some would say study would drive them to suicide." His voice has softened considerably, the volume lowered to a quiet murmur as a result of the close quarters he now found himself in. "What is it you study, then? The quickest and most humilating way to die in the wilderness?"

by **Amireh** on March 25th, 2011, 3:05 pm

"Are you always this charming?" Amireh rolled her eyes and glanced up from her book. There it was. Distraction. Even with her lack of skill she could still kill the both of them in a single misstep. One break in concentration and poof, voided for all eternity. At least she would not have to listen to any more of this wilderness foolishness. How many times had she been out of the city? Too many, and never had she been assaulted by a rabid pack of wolves, or men for that matter. In fact this fellow was the first living creature she had ever encountered so far from Avanthal. And what a creature he was. She made an effort to study him. Was he uncomfortable? They way he huddled himself away from her, the shift of color in his eyes - ah, so he was Vantha. Her own eyes flickered from blue to a clear, crystalline green, a unique switch from the common genetics. Albeit she held some standard traits of the northerners, Amireh was vastly different. For one, she was dark. Almost desert fashion in her appearance.

Still. Her interest was shifting entirely to Amondaris. Strong. Large. He really could crush her if he wanted to. He was fashioned like a warrior, held himself as such, yet his motions kept themselves subtle at times. A hunter then? To be so far she had little doubt of that. From his body language she could tell that her clothing - or rather lack thereof - was enough to induce an uncomfortable atmosphere, one that she would pursue without remorse. Smiling, the girl leaned forward, doing what she could to expose the tops of her breasts. How charming.

"What I study, my oh-so brave and duteous Knight, is beyond the realm of your comprehension. Unless you can discern the rants of a pre-Valterrian Mage in the musings of Voiding and how to properly delve the inner workings of a realm that consists entirely of nothing then I don't imagine you'll be much help, hm?"

by **Amondaris** on March 25th, 2011, 4:01 pm

Distracting. Oh so terribly distracting.
Why did she have to lean forward like that? Why did the view have to be so alluring? His gaze was drawn downwards with irresistable force, almost as if the exotic woman had taken hold of where he was looking and yanked it down with inexorable, unavoidable force. Terribly distressing.

He was finding it increasingly difficult to focus his attentions on the topic at hand, and not what could be in hand.Of for the love of baby Kelvics, stop! Focus! Suppressing the urge to slap himself around the back of the head, he settled for mentally berating himself further, focusing on the mental of image of the ice-ridden sword. With a prodigious display of sheer willpower, the young hunter managed to tear his gaze away from that terribly inviting view, instead refocusing upon the woman's eyes, just in time to catch the shift of colours they underwent.
Cocking his head in a peculiarly birdlike manner, he studied her facial features more closely, his curiosity piqued. Only the Vantha, or those with their blood exhibit that particular quirk... Most curious indeed. Attempting to shift further away from the sultry temptress, he cleared his throat roughly, lifting a fur-strapped hand to gesture at his eyes. "Your eyes. I assume by the shift in hue that you have some Vantha blood in you, much as I do?" Another gesture, his hand rolling lazily in her general direction. "I am mixed of blood as well. You seem somewhat more..Exotic, than I am, however. You look like you belong in warmer climes. Drykas? Benshira?" Rough guesses, one and all, yet Rhanor had taught him much of the world, so as to be best prepare him for anything that might be thrown his way, and a description of the various races was one of the first things he had learned. Thus, when she brought about the subject of Voiding, the topic did not escape him. Rhanor, ever the comprehensive instructor, had taken pains to make Amondaris aware of the more dangerous and prevalent types of magic that inhabited the world, Voiding being one of them. While he had yet to see any magic used in front of him, the concept was not utterly alien to him. Still. To actually see some performed, and not just described...
"I am an avid reader, when I get the chance. Tomes on magic, and so on, are not ones I have had much chance to peruse, unfortunately. If I had the book for a while, then perhaps I could try and pick apart the essentials, but I lack the kowledge and working experience required to do so, for this particular subject. Voiding is the practice of opening gates to said realm, is it not? Are you a practitioner?" A slender brow arched with this last question, the gesture strangely delicate for a man so obviously of a warlike bent. "Would you care to enlighten this poor, witless barbarian, O Sorceress, if you can manage to do so?"