Blood, Sweat, and Training [Fallon]

[Amon Torque]

Fall 24th
Amon looked at the jar eagerly, hoping it had turned out as he wanted. He gripped the cold metal sides and pulled at the cork, and with a loud pop watched it open. The smell hit him first, after sitting in oil for over a week he did not expect it to smell good, but he also did not expect the contents to smell like his shoes. All that really matters is if it works, Amon reminded himself, preparing his kukri. He made a small cut on his forearm, just enough to make it bleed, wincing at the slight pinch.

Amon dipped his finger into the oily substance, taking it out, while still carefully trying not to spill a drop. Amon let it drip onto his warm wound, the oil mixing with the blood, creating a tiny swirl of red in the droplet. It began to tingle, and Amon left it on for about thirty more seconds. He wiped it off, and was happy to find the bleeding had stopped. Perfect! Amon proceeded by tipping the jar just enough to fill his tiny vial. It was two ounces worth, or so the shops vendor had told him. Amon corked it, and placed the small vial around his neck, putting his head through the string.

He was prepared, at least as prepared as he could be with the supplies he had. Amon had been slashing at his wall for too long, he needed some real practice. He had enough of the macerated concoction to quicken the sealing of several small gashes. Now all he needed was peace of mind. The gang wars were at an all time high, and Amon needed a weapon and something to stop the bleeding if a fight did occur. And it was likely it would, with people put on edge by the food shortage that plagued Sunberth.

Amon blamed the dhani. They were a bunch of ugly monsters in his eyes, and he was on the more open minded side of Sunberth. People did not have scales. Snakes do, the dhani do, and snakes do not have emotions or compassion, so why should the dhani? That was Amon's thought on the subject, although it may have just been because he was just as hungry as the rest of Sunberth, stomachs rumbling and mouth watering at the scents of things that would normally disgust him.

Another trip to the market was his priority to see if some vender was naive enough to try to actually sell to the people, at this point people would kill for food. Or, most people would, Amon was still human, or so he liked to think. Amon grabbed his basket on the way out, just in case he found something edible, whether it be a rodent or some dried fruit. Closing the dark wood door behind him, Amon headed out into the world of hungry savages that was his home.

He was close, oh so tauntingly close to the market when it happened. A arm struck out like a blur, yanking him from the street into an alleyway. "Gah!" Amon cried out, landing on his back and knocking the wind out of him. A smooth, silky voice calmly gave Amon instructions.

"Empty your pockets, and give me everything you have," this thief was no amature, and clearly had used this routine on other poor citizens. His attacker was not holding a weapon, but Amon had enough common sence to know the thief must have had it concealed from plain sight. Amon began to register what was happening, and shook his head, whoch caused his attacker to laugh, Amon drew his kukri, holding it with shaky hands as he stood up. He raised his free arm defensively, raised to punch.

[Fallon]

There was the steady pace of footing, the eyes peering out from beneath the shadow of her brow - the orbs looking ahead and fixed on the shapes of the few bodies left sprawled about. Beneath the rim of the cloak the kukri was drawn - hidden beneath the folds and out of sight from immediate view. A grim mask of dirt and blood across her features. Lips were pursed into a straight line, the twitch occasionally as she eyeballed any local that seemed to come near her. That low, warning growl hovered in the back of her throat the determined steps no doubt serving as an incentive to simply stay away.

It did not stop the look from opportunist though, in response her hairs rose and the grip around the keen kukri hilt tightened. But, she still kept walking forward regardless looking and searching for a way to redeem herself in the current, chaotic climate. Her body gave a small hiss of objection, the bridge of her nose still sore and tender from her previous scraps, with the smaller cuts healing finally. The tongue gave a dart across the dry lips, the soft gnaw of irritation greeting her. Or perhaps it was hunger - she did not know, she did not really focus on it par the firm press of it into pure determination.

A dip into the shadows, a small wince in at the sunlight as she took the street into view. It stunk, as did most of Sunberth - leaving the internal itch of annoyance within her as she tried to think and focus upon other things. Survival, fighting, staying out the way. She gave a bite of the lip as she tried to avoid the self flagellation of words against her ego. Teeth were licked, the low rumbling of a growl escaping before she shook it off. That mental wrestle of weighted guilt and fault pressing firmly against her. Somewhere beyond there was the cat call, the low whimper of noise of an animal - but she pushed it aside for now and looked onto other things. Simple sustenance - she was not fussy.

That was, at least, until something more interesting caught her attention. She had barely passed the mouth of the alleyway when she heard it, that close yelp of noise and the low laugh of amusement. Her entire form had frozen in mid-step, a small creak as she leaned back on her heel. Her chin gave a lift, the sea-green orbs looking back into the shade of the alleyway and the man who was sprawled out onto the floor. The hissing of threats, the low demands and the stand up to defy - even if he did look completely petrified. Even in the low light she spied the shaking of hands and the look of uncertainty with his chosen weapon. Another blink, slower this time as narrowed her eyes down onto the new found target.

Vigilante justice came to the forefront of her mind, a flicker of the Scars and their intentions. What they were, who they were, and in response she gave a full turn and begun to make her move to strike. Slow steps, gentle and focused on being silent. Her wrist rotated beneath the cloak, the gripped kukri rotating round as she limbered the stilled muscles into life. A rising glance, she watched the man stand up to his attacker and his demands - an interesting move in itself - and then lock his attention onto the thief.

Fifteen feet, the toes pressed and creased, a firmer stride. Ten feet, the right side of the cloak was knocked back, the a harder strike of toes as she picked up the pace further. The cold iron edge gave a glow in the low light, and the eyes locked firmly onto the man. Five feet, that final press, the deep suck in of the air as she brought the left shoulder forward. She watched the thief look upon her surprised almost and looking to draw whatever was at hand. The shoulder collided, a full barge that sent them sprawling whilst the kukri was thrust forward in the general direction of the thief. The air in her lungs escaped in an all mighty shout in the tone used as Bitzer, "Back the petch off vagik if you know what's good for you!"

She was not going to go down without a fight - still, she hoped that the sudden attack alone would put enough fear into the thief to deter him. Then again, this was also Sunberth and she had to prepare herself for anything in this city.

[Amon Torque]

Amon looked left and right quickly, observing his surrounding closely. His only consolation was a dark figure walking closer, but for all Amon knew it was one of the thieves malicious partners, coming to bask in Amon's weakness. Although the thief in front of him did not turn, so Amon chose to keep it that way, turning back to the dark menacing look, holding his kukri tighter, and taking a more suitable stance, feet solidifying the position.

Amon's gaze met the thief's, barely noticing the increasing of speed in the steps of the approaching woman. It was only when their shoulders met that Amon truly took in the sight, a woman, smaller than the man, with dark frizzy hair rammed into the man, and with a yelp, he fell. "Back the petch off vagik if you know what's good for you!" Amon was shocked, nearly incoherent. Who the petch does she think she is? She will be killed! The thought diminished as fast as it had raced through his head, when his eyes noticed the outstretched hand of what looked like his blade.

Amon's eyes locked onto it as it impaled the stumbling thief, watching closely, looking for the slightest details in things like form, placement, and other smaller movements. But of course, all in all, it was a simple stab. But anyone who could hold the blade without looking like a fool was better than him, and anyone willing to save a stranger might be willing to help the same victim practice his swordsmanship. Amon's calculating gaze looked the woman up and down, searching for a sign of weakness. He found none, and assumed the best, she could help him.

It was a wild feeling, being able to count on other people for once, a feeling that Amon rather enjoyed, and hoped to replicate in the future. Amon's daydreaming was interrupted by movement from the sprawled out body on the ground. The thief lifted himself up, dirt covering his clothes and a small river of crimson coming from his smashed nose, shaped strangely from the not so elegant fall. The thief glared at the rescuer, making a hissing noise similar to a cat, who is he trying to scare? Amon wondered, hissing was not exactly a scary tactic, but it appeared as though the thief, now sprinting down the alleyway with his cloak flapping behind him, thought it was some kind of, 'I will get you next time!'

The humor of it all sunk in. Whenever Amon got into a life threatening situation, he was saved from one way or another. And he was tired of being helpless, tired of being the one crying out for help, and ready to be the one answering the same pleas. So he turned his gaze to his savior, his dark eyes meeting hers, and with all the sincerity he could muster, let out a quiet, "Thank you, I am in debt to your kindness." It sounded cheesy after it escaped his lips, but still Amon hoped the woman would accept it, to leave him the little honor he had left. "If you would like a few mizas to express my gratitude, feel free to ask," Amon threw in, still recovering his wits.

[Fallon]

Perhaps it was a good enough deterrent, or perhaps it only served to aggravate more - regardless Fallon did not really take much time to work it out. The thief toppled, collapsing over her better than expected barge into the body. There was a cutting slash, a hissing curse as he staggered. She threw her weight back then, front foot stamping forward as she bounced back onto the rear foot and absorbed the impact up through her legs. Do not overstep the foe, keep them within your vision, keep them in sight do not let them get close and do not give them an opportunity to strike a blow - where possible at least. Unnecessary injury would do her little good at present.

She did not look down to the man, her focus was too set on the thief as she squared herself up, barely a flicker to the blood that grazed him. Eyes gave a burn, a snapping growl in response to the hiss, hairs almost rising as she poured out the inner ego and rolled her shoulders back. Teeth gave a flash, a single firm step forwards and the man was scrabbling away - metaphorical tail between his legs. Fallon only glared after him as he left, ensuring that he had indeed fled the scene and was not lurking somewhere in the shadows waiting to strike. Silently, she wiped the blade against her sleeve and sheathed it. It was done, there was no use keeping it out right now.

It was slowly that she turned her head to the other, the face falling into neutral mask and the eyes going down to simply looking. Her brow pinched slightly, a look down to the scraggly form as she took him in. Shorter, was the brief flicker of thought - which surprised her slightly - and she was torn between the thoughts of him actually being scraggly. Dishevelled due to a previous fright may have been more apt, regardless he seemed to be recovering - if not with a slight sickening sense of awe. Lips were licked, her eyes coming down into narrows as the gaze was forced into locking. Yes, definitely sickening - it left a moment of uneasiness in her stomach. Her gaze turned down to the kukri he was holding, a small, slow blink as she took the weapon and the hold in. Tight, it was too tight.

He spoke and that took her attention back to the lips - the gaze easing off from its scrutiny as he made his offer. Which also sounded like less than an offer and more like an expected turn of events, he was to throw coin at her for intervening? No, she was just doing what she felt was right to do, a poor attempt at some self redemption in the chaos of the city. She shook her head mutely, and turned her gaze back down to the blade. It was then, finally that she spoke up to him.

"Can't eat Mizas," she mumbled and then remembered herself, "The kukri hilt... you're holding it too tight and as if you're going to try and punch," the rough tones of Bitzer and her working accent escaped, "Have it so the pommel hits your wrist, loosen it too. Allows more flexibility an easier on the swing." She gave a shrug, a small step away as she begun to make a move onwards. She had done her bit as far as she was concerned, not that it really made her feel like she had earned anything. She would have to try harder, "Stay out of alleys. Can't save you all the time."

[Amon Torque]

Amon watched her as she begin to walk away, and had to force himself not to reach out and grab her shoulder to prevent her from leaving. Instead he just said, "Wait! I-I need to learn how to use this thing, can you teach me?" It sounded desperate, because it was. She had denied his money, gave him a comment on his grip, and now planned to leave? No. He needed more, as greedy as it was. He had to know how to use the weapon in his hand. He couldn't avoid alley ways everywhere, like she recommended. If he did, the streets would certainly be hard to navigate with the same speed he currently maintained.

Amon tried out his best pleading face, which probably turned into a pathetic looking frown of some sort. Amon's thoughts raced as he attempted to come up with some sort of reason that the woman was obligated to help him train, but none came to him in the short amount of time he had to think. Maybe if I barter with her... Amon thought remembering that he was, after all, an herbalist. Or who knew, maybe she needed his special services in the art of shielding. Perhaps a shield that blocks noise, to sound proof a room.

He attempted to add to his earlier statement, but this time with a more confident tone, "I have some unique services to offer in exchange for training, if you have need for them." He tried to make it sound as if it were something truly fantastic, without giving details, incase she was a anti magic kind of person, which many people were.

Amon was prepared for a no, but he would be much more pleased if he got a yes, and was hoping he would. Amon felt as if the kukri was an extension of his arm, an extension that itched for a bit of use, training or real combat. He could feel it was the kind of false hope that occasionally welled up inside of him, but false hope could turn to real hope if the situation allowed it.

If willing someone as hard as possible made someone accept all your offers, then he was sure that the woman would already be showing him the right form. But that was not the case in this situation, and Amon was really starting to wish he knew hypnotism, even as manipulative and evil as he thought it was. And honestly Amon doubted he would be able to look at himself in the mirror if he did one day abuse the art of hypnotism. Amon waited patiently for his answer, trying to mentally be prepared for disappointment

[Fallon]

Fallon sighed, and turned her head back to the man as he whined his words. The expression turned bemused, the eyes simply focusing on the stance, the way he held himself and that look. Eyes gave a blink, her eyes glazing and sharpening as she tried to get a reading on him, understand and get a feeling of what was going through his mind. He asked a stranger for help simply on the basis of what he had been shown and seen in action, the tight grasp at anything that would come his way - vulture-like as it swooped and looked for easy pickings. An inhale in of the Sunberth stench, and then an exhale out. What did he really want of her?

Another blink, lips gave a purse and let out a whistling noise as her thoughts tried to piece things together, or perhaps find the hidden meaning behind it all. Another look up and down, she firmly turned round back to face him, her knuckles gently clenching over the top of her kukri as she simply questioned him, "Why do you need to learn? What reason do you have to learn? Of course... there was your mishap mere moments ago." Her head tilted to one side a small frown upon her face, "But surely you would be better off learning to avoid such situations, no?"

Battering came next, though the nature of it left her wondering. Or more correctly it left the subtle warnings racing along her mind as she tried to consider what he meant. It left too much to the imagination, it made her wonder also if he was simply trying to grab her attention or actually had something to batter with - to which then, what was these unique services? Her neck clicked, the chin lifting as she stared him down and his attempted sales pitch and found herself simply sighing. She shook her head, "You will have to try harder than that to win my attention," Fallon turned away once more, the moment where
"A good sales pitch lets the potential target know exactly what it is they can obtain, and know the product if you will. Not just words. For all I know your unique skills could be something to do with bees," There was a glance back from the corner of her eye, "If you wish to make honey, you must know how to attract the swarm. Same rule for any business..." She gave a shrug, it was logical to her at least.

Raising a hand, she extended two fingers to him, the eyes locking as she made her study, "Two chimes. I give you two chimes to be a good salesman, to sell your product, your services to me and to why I should be interested in taking it as suitable exchange for teaching you how to use the kukri," She gave a wolfish smile, her brow raising. It was time to see how serious he was on wanting to learn, "And don't skip around what said service actually is... I have little patience for those who try to."

[Amon Torque]

His eyes widened slightly, two minutes! Two minutes to persuade someone who clearly had very little patience for fools. Right to the point then... His lips opened, but closed again, thinking over his speech closely, what could she want? Clearly a fighter, maybe she could use something to close any wounds she gained. His hand slipped into his shirt, grasping around the glass vial around his neck, pulling it out. "This right here," he began, "will stop bleeding in a pinch, clots the blood and such." Amon continued steadily, trying to observe her expressions carefully, "I can make much more of this, or make something for nearly any condition, you just name it."

He pondered his little sales spiel, which only received a small raise of an eyebrow in response, maybe she needs a safe house, and what better way to do something than to demonstrate. He exhaled djed into the air, cautiously forming it around his arm, still invisible as he clutched his charm bracelet, focusing the best he could while still talking, "my talents can extend to making," he stopped for a moment, regaining focus and control over the shield, and attempting to say that he could use magic in the best way possible, before deciding just to outright say it, "I make shields. Shields that block out sound, they can block out people, or they can block out light itself. Or even block out magic." He said this as he focused with as much concentration as he could muster, making small motions with his left hand that he found assisted him in the hurried shield gripping his arm.

"If you need a room sound proofed, a safe that only you can access. or perhaps a safe house, I can add a shield to it," and with that, and his two minutes nearly up, he tasked the shield with the simpler of the two djed blocking or absorbing functions, blocking, as well as sight, simply for the visual affect. His arm faded to black, the eye unable to pick up anything else than its silhouette in the background. "Now, if you would help me learn to fight, I can help you with any sort of medicine or shield you could wish for."

Personally, he felt as if it was a good speech, and also his first. Most people would either have killed him for coming out of using magic, or simply agreed to one or both of his services. But this woman, who Amon hoped saw his tenacity, was more difficult to talk to than most. Whether it came from her rough tone of voice or simply the presence of which she brought with her, Amon struggled to talk normally to her. He felt he wasn't great enough, in whatever way she could think of. Honestly, he really just hoped that she wasn't a shielder or herbalist herself, which would render him useless to someone who was.

[Fallon]

Well, that certainly spurred him into action. The bemused expression rested upon her features, her eyes narrowing down as he stumbled his way over words and tried to work out what exactly he would say or offer. Then again it would also weigh up how serious he was about the whole prospect - the desperate often could pull out all the stops when they really needed something. She watched as he stumbled, attempting present a decent sales pitch. Cheeks puffed, eyes following as he summoned forth the glass vial within his clothes and gestured to it.

Whilst it seemed interesting in principle, she would probably have to see it in action to believe it - her inner sceptic nudged at her to think that. A small tilt of the head to one side, the mind trying to work out what that made him. A herbalist of some description or other, a man who understood plants and how to use them to harness useful properties from them. At least, that would be if he was telling the truth - there was not enough evidence yet to suggest either way in her opinion.

And then he paused his speech as if to focus on something. Perhaps it was a knee jerk reaction but that in turn sent her guard up. Her hand snapped tightly around the hilt of the kukri, her eyes burning down as she simply stared. Even her skin seemed to prickle in a sense of unwanted anticipation for what was to come. A step forward, a gentle click as the kurki was pulled free from its sheath. Another step, the pulse almost quickening as she let the eyes dart between the face and the exposed arm as the speech slowly continued - though his attention still split.

The other hand moved, the subtle tell tale signs that clicked together in her mind. Gesture, prickling, movement - the words spoke of shields, but obviously not the mundane sense - djed? Her nostrils flared, the kurki drawn beneath the folds of her cloak as she took another step forward. She tried to understand, gain a grasp of understanding on what was going on before her, the gaze darting quicker as she bit her tongue and brought things quickly to a pinnacle. The arm faded to black, and her eyes narrowed down into what could only be described as a glare to the man.

"Mage," she hissed between clenched teeth. She stepped forward, faster then, a steady stride as the left hand came up. Fingers splayed in an attempt to grab him firmly by the collar, her eyes locking with his. She wore a scowl, a low snort as she came right up into his face. The kurki gave a slip out between the folds of the cloak, raising up into view between them before the point was gestured towards him, "Foolish mage. Very foolish. You trying to get yourself killed in a city of people who hate mages?" She gave a tut, shaking her head as she moved away, her guard obviously up for the moment, "If you know what's good for you, you don't make that sort of offer or come out about it. Berther or not..." There was no need to finish.

Pulling away she gave a scorning look to him, a puff of cheeks as she gave a gesture of the point to him, "Be glad I'm not the mage gutter type. Still..." She looked him up and down, "Kukri you want to learn how to use then. Well, you have my attention for now." A flicker down, she tilted her hand so he could see the hold she had adopted for the blade and the way the fingers curled around it, "Let's see your hold. And stance. What would you take up if you were to fight."

[Amon Torque]

I may be foolish mage, but I am also a mage who is getting what he wanted from the beginning he thought, a corner of his mouth turned up in a barely noticeable smirk that he was trying to hide. The woman had moved with graceful speed, a step after another, and then reached out at him without hesitation. It was terrifying of course, but also strangely beautiful in Amon's eyes, his fear had already peaked and now he was basking in the euphoric adrenalin directly after, improving his senses beyond the barrier they seemed to be restrained behind constantly.

He heard her speak of her newfound interested, and was seeking not to lose the precious opportunity to learn more, so he knew it was necessary to put everything he had into it. Let's see your hold. And stance. What would you take up if you were to fight? Amon's pulse went up slightly, mind racing to come to a quick decision. He glanced toward her grip and mimicked it to the best of his ability loosening it from his former pressure. His feet made a quick shuffle, his left moved in front of his right, turning his body slightly. He looked down at them and made sure they were both under his shoulders. The pressure from his being went down to the balls of his feet, keeping him light and ready for movement. It was a mix of a brawling stance and what he thought to be the beginning of evasive footwork, seeing as he did not believe the kukri had enough mass to block anything larger than it.

Now, lets just hope she doesn't try to spar, he thought, slightly horrified about pitting himself up against her. The emotion flashed across his face, but he decided would learn to shield from daggers and blades some day, and his expression recovered within seconds, returning to his previous smirk. For some reason his introverted personality had faded away, he felt loud and his whole demeanor yelled confident and social, which might have been a good or bad thing depending on who you ask.

He turned his full attention to her, ready for critiquing, and aggressive critique at that, considering her earlier outbursts. His eyes were soft and kind, his mouth in a smirk, and brows raised just slightly. He had three conflicting expressions, and his whole face was a bit tense, muscles prepared to jump back in case a sudden onslaught of slashes came his way from his trainer.

[Fallon]

Fallon watched, the bemused expression settling in as she analysed him and his movements. He seemed to be in a strange daze; caught between the act of flight or fight - of course there was no opportunity to do either now as she had moved swiftly on and left him to work through it. He seemed confused, or more still caught within the realm of fear as she spoke once more to him and spurred him into the process of listening and acting upon it. She gave a pinch of her brow with her other hand, finding herself reduced to little more than watching and correcting - the sooner this was done, the better.

Sighing, she made a gentle move around him, looking him up and down weighing up and looking ready to make adjustments. A hand tilted his chin up slightly, straightening him out before moving on to the shoulders. With a hand placed at the base of his spine the other pushed against his shoulder, straightening him more and bringing out the curvature. So easy it was to fall into the temptation to curl up and inwards in defence - which in turn reduced potential movement she felt from experience. Lifting her gaze she, she continued to step around behind him and continued her moulding until at least she noticed his smirk. She burned her eyes onto him, "A smirk I see? I can walk away at any point you know, so don't get cocky now."

Her moves continued, thoughts flickering on how things could be used to her advantage. How could she mould him, how could she use him - of course he was the one relying on her not the other way round. And her words were true she could walk at any point and leave him to it. She did not need him, she reminded herself, and this would not be the way for her to gain some redemption. Cheeks puffed, a small sidestep round as she went to his back, her toes gently nudging into the back of his foot as she studied him and the solidity of his stance.

"Keeping a strong stance is one thing," She spoke once more, stepping round to his right and his grip. Her gloved had gave the fingers a prod, pushing and separating them, "But a stance like stone is slow and cumbersome. Odd as it sounds, be like water. Flow, and sway, yet be able to twist and strike with enough force to cause harm. In combat you need to be able to move, to be rigid will get you hurt or killed." There was a small tap, a gentle bed of the blade arm as she rotated the wrist and brought the blade vertical, "Regardless. The kukri is often and best used for chopping or slashing, however with enough force it can be used for stabbing. Outside of that it's a utility blade, can hack through a few branches with this, or cut meat and things with ease." A step back, her eyes gave a trace once more, "Give it a down hack and maintain the stance as much as possible. Go on."