Open [The Vitrax] A warm welcome to the Vitrax (Clyde)

[Irriari]

A warm welcome to the Vitrax (Clyde) Season of Winter, Day 10, 514 AV While her training in poisons, shielding, and interrogation was moving forward, Irriari found herself venturing out of the city more and more to hunt animals and anything else that dared move in her presence. The few bar fights that humans had initiated in the Silver Sliver were quickly stopped by Jeb. The sudden absence of a challenge left the zith aching for true combat and the visceral pleasure that came with testing her limits. The voices of the colony Elders taunted her each morning when she woke, ensuring that she couldn't forget how far she had fallen since leaving the Sea of Grass. ‘Do you like your comfortable human housing, Sunder? Does it please you to be little more than the vermin you should be enslaving? When was the last time you were like us? You don’t even deserve your wings.’ The last statement stung more than most. Irriari no longer felt like a zith. She was detached from her soul, her people, and her slaves. What remained was simply a human with wings, trying to fit in and grasp for the last vestiges of her nature before they slipped away. She had heard of the Vitrax multiple times from other apprentices of the Ebonstryfe. They complained of lingering injuries from combat drills and spoke highly of the armory. While Irriari had no interest in the stockpiled weapons, she did want to find someone to spar with. Perhaps there would be a human brave enough to take on a zith. The Vitrax was a fifteen chime walk from her house, and she ignored the vermin that move around her as she made her way to the building. Instead, Irriari focused on the litany of combat drills she had practiced in the colony. How long had it been since she practiced dodging arrows in the sky? How many seasons had passed since she sparred against someone wielding a mace? The answers were annoying at best, and depressing at worst. Vowing to fight more and study poisons less, the zith strode into the entrance of the Vitrax, intent on finding the training hall. Thankfully, the training hall wasn’t far away. A soldier of the Ebonstryfe leered at her, and pointed the general direction she needed to head. Though she served Rhysol, many within the city were still leery of her kind. The training hall was expansive, and the zith stood just within the doorway, trying to take it all in. It was nothing like the colony, where sparring took place on the ground with naught but the walls to contain the combatants. Inside the hall, combat dummies lined three of the four walls. The dummies were equipped with an assortment of armor and weapons, and many stood in threatening stances. Small and large sparring arenas were strewn throughout the room. A few arenas had pillars and other obstacles within them that could provide cover or a place to pin an enemy. Ebonstryfe soldiers patrolled lazily, keeping an eye on apprentices that were too zealous or sadistic in their fighting. The zith stepped forward as another apprentice cleared his throat loudly. She spared only a moment to look back at him before laughing. He lacked muscle and height. Surely he wasn’t here to train? After a few moments of watching the weakling make his way to the other side of the room, the zith began stretching. Her wings and arms were first, and many of the humans turned at the sound of her leathery wings snapping open. She smiled at them viciously, pleased that she could unnerve them so easily. Others looked unimpressed. Outwardly, she ignored them, but still hoped that they would be bold enough to challenge her. Next, she stretched her legs. More than anything, this was a waiting game. Irriari wouldn’t approach any of the humans here. She was confident that one of them with too much bravado would approach her in hopes of having a story for that nights drinking and mayhem.

[Clyde Sullins]

10 Winter 514 Clyde did not often visit the Vitrax. His duties seemed to usually take him far away, out of Ravok often. First to Zeltiva, then to Sahova, he had been tested many times during his work. And so it was good to be back in Ravok, to its relative safety and calm, as opposed to doing duty in foreign territory. Not that he could truly let down his guard, or show weakness. Respect was for those who earned it, and the weak did not live long enough to earn much of anything. While he held a position of relative strength above that of a normal soldier of the Ebonstryfe, what with his position and his magic, he still knew better than to grow complacent. It was for this reason that Clyde headed to the Vitrax on that day to train, to hone his skills of a more martial variety. While he could easily take on any foe with his magic, and had, he did not want to become overly reliant on it. And so he planned to work on his skill of arms. Of fist and staff and hammer, his chosen weapons. With training in mind, Clyde did not wear his armor, nor his finery, instead wearing his more common clothes. All but his robes, an enchanted pair he had been given upon becoming a true Stryfe, which was emblazoned with their symbol on the front, and was of fine enough make. And while they appeared to be of simple cloth, they were actually much stronger than the mundane variety it posed as. In his right hand rested Cha, his always companion, never leaving his side. She was also a work of Magecrafting, one he had made himself, and far hardier an item than the by comparison simple robes he wore. While she might appear odd, what with her being made of a naturally blue wood, and had a smooth soft feel to her, she was as strong as stone, and just as ungiving. As he entered the training hall Clyde held Cha proudly, looking about at its various inhabitants. Simply by its difference, Clyde's vision was pulled to the Zith in the room. A short furry creature, at least short as compared to Clyde, who was a bit above average for a human at just over six feet tall. The last time Clyde had seen a Zith, it was as part of a hunting party. It had been years ago, when he was on a expedition to aid in the set up of a Suvan sea outpost. The expedition in the end had been a failure, due to the unexpected occurrence of the djed storm of 512. But before they had even made it to the Suvan they'd been attacked by Zith. Some of their group had died, while others had been carried off. Clyde himself had taken on several by himself with his Reimancy. He'd learned on that day that Zith fur burnt just like human flesh, and that they certainly were not fire proof, particularly on the inside. Seeing a Zith, particularly in the Vitrax, was an odd sight. Clyde couldn't help to be a bit curious as to what she was doing there. Surely, he thought to himself, it wasn't a member of the Stryfe? Did the Stryfe even allow such things in? Crossing over to the zith Clyde took in a slow breath, calming himself and keeping his face passive before speaking, not letting his discomfort show, or his slight nagging wish to remove her scourge with cleansing fire. He gripped Cha a bit tighter, rubbing his hand upon her skin, a familiar touch that further calmed him. But if the zith was here then it was not his true foe, and was on his side, and was a part of Rhysol's family, and so he spoke somewhat courteously. At least as courteous as Clyde usually was to those beneath him. “You. Your a Zith right? I've met your kind before. I didn't realize they let Zith into the Ebonstryfe. So what do you do then?”

[Irriari]

Irriari glanced at the few humans that skirted the area around her. Some stared unabashedly, while most glared. Their anger at a zith being apprenticed into the Ebonstryfe was apparent. While they would never openly question the will of Rhysol, they all hoped to never be put on a mission with her. Irriari found their distaste laughable. They could ask for no better scout on missions. Her ability to destroy targets from a position of relative safety was one they could never hope to attain. Still, such things were normal- sheep tended to flock together- it was the way of the weak. After a few chimes of mindless stretching, a tall human approached her, towering over her with an oddly colored staff to boot. Perhaps he couldn’t stand without it. It hardly mattered. There were more fun ways to incapacitate someone than relying on their flaws. She could always create new ones. His eyes were far bluer than any of the slaves in the colony and she found herself musing at the value of a slave with such striking features. After a few seconds, she was brought back to the present. His robes signaled him as a member of the Ebonstryfe and one that had completed his Crucible. His outward appearance gave no indication that he could fight at all. He was tan, so she knew that he wasn’t sequestered indoors all the time, but he didn’t have the broad shoulders she had come to expect in men that could hold their own in a fight. The question he posed to her was annoying, as was his nonchalance about meeting one of her kind. It was a problem she desired to fix. “I wouldn’t expect a human that skulked around with a staff to know much about the Ebonstryfe at all, but you’ve managed to surprise me.” She glared at him, and paused for a second before continuing. “You’ve met my people. I’m sure they welcomed you warmly. Or maybe they attacked you? Did they kill your horse? Mock you? Knock you and your staff into the dirt? Did they kill your friends? Rape them?” She laughed at that, remembering the fun of such hunts. “I do that which my kind is known for. I hunt, kill, and fight. Occasionally, I enslave humans that look interesting or provide me with a service I desire.”

[Clyde Sullins]

As Clyde examined the Zith from up close, it quickly became apparent that the Zith was examining him in turn. Or perhaps more accurately, she was appraising him, in a way Clyde recalled a merchant he had once seen appraising a pot someone was trying to sell them. As the Zith responded with a somewhat barbed retort, Clyde simply smiled, allowing a small upturn to come to his lips, but little more. “I wouldn’t expect a human that skulked around with a staff to know much about the Ebonstryfe at all, but you’ve managed to surprise me.” “You’ve met my people. I’m sure they welcomed you warmly. Or maybe they attacked you? Did they kill your horse? Mock you? Knock you and your staff into the dirt? Did they kill your friends? Rape them?” “I do that which my kind is known for. I hunt, kill, and fight. Occasionally, I enslave humans that look interesting or provide me with a service I desire.” Clyde paused for a moment, turning to face his staff, Cha, with a somewhat puzzled look put upon his face. “Staff? Couldn't mean you, surely not Cha. Your far from being a staff, in the same way a common bat is far from being what lies before me. Perhaps not though so far distant, thinking your a staff...” Turning back to address the Zith once more, instead of Cha, Clyde grinned, as if he hadn't paused and spoken to Cha at all, or perhaps as if what he'd said hadn't been out loud. It was all an act, perhaps an example of overacting, but an act all the same put on for the Zith before him. “As for your... People, as you call them. Yes, I did meet them, though my meeting of them was much "warmer" than their meeting of me.” As he spoke Clyde put a heavy emphasis on the word warmer, a grin appearing for a moment as he said it, before passing. Clyde tended to enjoy his little attempts at word play, and considering what had happened to the Zith, it seemed quite appropriate and literal to say Clyde had given them a warm greeting. “As for what happened. No, they didn't kill my horse. Though they did cull a few of the weak of my party. I in turn culled a few of them. Although honestly their feeble failed raid wasn't even the most interesting of events of that trip, nor anywhere near the most deadly.” Clyde paused for a moment here, looking back at the zith, another grin coming over him as it attempted to intimidate him with a glare. It wasn't even a subtle attempt at such an endeavor, and certainly not one that would easily work on him. Clyde once more turned to Cha, speaking in a whispered voice as if in secret, but still easily loud enough to be heard. “The fuzzy one thinks to be scary Cha. If only, if only.” Breaking from the act of confiding in Cha once more, Clyde turned back to the zith, speaking directly to it again. “My own skills tend to have a bit more range than that. Although I came here to work on my more martial ones. Even if one has a dozen sharp arrows in their quiver, one should still search out new ones. And if one finds a new arrow, and it is blunt and dull, well then it should be sharpened. Cha here, for instance, she'd like to whirl and strike, would like to partake in some fighting. She doesn't see much physical work in her uses.” “What of you? You seem of the physical sort.”

[Irriari]

Irriari had expected something. Some reaction of some sort. She doubted a soldier of the Ebonstryfe would shake in their boots, but she also didn’t expect that he would talk to his staff and ignore her as if she was just another target dummy that had been given the ability to throw out insults. The zith’s fur bristled against her skin. He must be insane. It made no sense why the Ebonstryfe would recruit someone who talked to a piece of wood. Besides, it wasn’t decorated with bones or capped with steel. No matter what delusions the human held about his plaything, it was still only a stick. Staves made horrible weapons anyhow. If he had chosen to talk to a mace, the zith would have had more respect for his strange ways. Chalking up his odd mannerisms to the inadequacies that resulted from being born a human, the zith continued listening, hoping he would say something more interesting. And after a chime, the human did say something that caught her interest. He had killed her kind before. Perhaps the colony was weak, perhaps they were overconfident. Such stupidity was not unknown to the zith. Many thought that their wings made them invulnerable. They misjudged the might of a small caravan and were quickly shown the error of their ways. The Elders had cautioned them against such folly often enough. In the next breath, the Elders would laugh, as they had never been so foolish as to pick a target they couldn’t hobble. Irriari knew to be wary around a human that could stand against her kind. Perhaps his unnatural relationship with his staff was due to a level of skill in the weapon? His small barbs lacked effectiveness. She might not scare him now, but she knew the tables would be turned if she sunk her claws into the arteries within his throat. She smiled back at him, waiting for his next rant. So, the human sought combat. It had been many years since she faced anyone with a staff. Staves were favored by merchants that didn’t have any real weapon skills. However, she knew that in the hands of one more accomplished, the weapon could break bones. Finally, the zith found something worth replying to: “Yes, I am ‘of the physical sort’. I came here looking for someone foolish enough to spar with me. Of course, I won’t wrap my claws in delicately scented linens for you. If we fight, I expect that you can handle minor injuries without surrendering. Though if you did surrender, I’d hardly fault you. You can spend more time with your darling staff.”

[Clyde Sullins]

It seemed the Zith was not interested in most of what Clyde said, instead ignoring much of what was said. Or perhaps she only had a attention span of so much, that she couldn't focus on all of his words. Clyde was uncertain which of the two. He was still a bit surprised that she could speak more or less, something he hadn't known Zith could do. But with his time spent calming himself in meditation, he had grown somewhat skilled at hiding such emotions, and keeping himself even. “Yes, I am ‘of the physical sort’. I came here looking for someone foolish enough to spar with me. Of course, I won’t wrap my claws in delicately scented linens for you. If we fight, I expect that you can handle minor injuries without surrendering. Though if you did surrender, I’d hardly fault you. You can spend more time with your darling staff.” Clyde grinned back at the Zith's statement, once more attempting to threaten and intimidate him. Perhaps if he wasn't himself, that might have worked. But considering the power he held, and the fact that he could burn her out of existence and to a pile of ash with but a thought, her threats of physical violence didn't do much to put fear into him. That and the fact that the Ebonstryfe looked down upon killing or seriously hurting in training, and the fact that he held a higher position than her, made him felt safe enough in the situation. Now that he knew he would fight the Zith, Clyde willed out his aura sight. Taking in a calming breath Clyde willed his djed to rise and flow into Cha. After a moment he released it in a pulse from her skin, reaching out for the Zith with his mind. After another moment he fastened onto her, and saw her aura bloom about her physical body, shining a dull greyish red color. With all of the practice he had been getting with Auristics, it was becoming second nature to sense such basic things. Like the feel of her short bristly fur on her body, the blunt sharpness of her claws, and the leathery skin of her wings. He could also feel the warmth of her body, and the smooth sharpness of her teeth inside of her mouth. He also for the first time noted that the Zith had a sex, and was a female of her breed. For some reason until the evidence had been right before him, he hadn't considered her gender. Though now in hindsight it seemed rather obvious. All of this took but a moment or two, as he looked at the Zith in his Aura sight. As he began to talk he focused ever more on the Zith, deepening the reading and trying to prize out ever deeper and more hidden information. “Well, I suppose until you find your fool, we could spar. As for injuries, I'd prefer not to come away with too much of a manhandling. How about this. You promise not to mark me up too much, and I'll promise to only come at you with my aforementioned martial skills that need working on.” Clyde grinned, leaving unsaid what exactly he meant, or what he threatened. “Pain can be a tricky thing. And sometimes when it comes unexpected, some of my other... Skills... Like to crop up. Kind of like hey did the last time I met those Zith. But you play nice, and I'll just let you play with Cha. Deal?” Clyde did not extend a hand with the offer, instead keeping it as a purely verbal dealing. Perhaps she would be persuaded to take his deal, or perhaps not. But if she didn't tick him off too much, he'd likely keep from roasting her alive. Probably.

[Irriari]

Irriari listened to his offer carefully. While her muscles ached to be put the limit and she wanted nothing more than the hunt, zith were taught that sparring was a necessity. Without the practice fights, there was no way to hone your abilities. Fighting against phantoms did little to improve your reactions, and phantoms didn’t have the variability in technique that a live opponent did. The zith in the colony were more respectful of her wings than a human combatant, but the difference didn’t bother Irriari. Above all other pursuits, zith drilled relentlessly in the protection of their wings and conditioning of their weaponry. Brute force was no help to you if your weapon was snapped in half. Similarly, if you were grounded due to an arrow hit to a wing, you were dead, or worse. Irriari nodded to his terms, caring not about the other skills he alluded to. Perhaps he was an actor. He enjoyed smiling and laughing enough. Whatever tricks he had up his sleeve, Irriari was confident that a well poisoned arrow could end him quickly enough. Cocky humans were all so very similar. Irriari had no reason to continue speaking to him. After all, he spoke to her like she was a child. Glaring, she allowed the blood sight to eke into her extremities from her core. It would have been a lie to say that she didn't miss the blood sight. She thought about it every time she woke up. The trade-off was great, but the joy of battle and the clarity of focus made everything worth it. as the Elders said, it is better to die a warrior than to die as a quivering wretch. Wasting no time, the zith pushed off the ground and flew into the air. While the ceilings were high, they weren’t high enough to get her completely out of reach of his weapon. If the man stretched, he could likely hit her, but she enjoyed seeing whether humans would sacrifice their balance for a chance to hurt her. Being in the air was her element. Even if he didn’t strike, she could always wait to see if he tired out. If he wished to disrespect her as if she was a toddling child, she could do the same. “Your move, staff boy.” OOCBlood sight is another term for adrenaline. Irr is more focused, but less able to notice wounds and other injuries. She’s reckless and often tries stupid things while in the grip of combat.

[Clyde Sullins]

As the Zith thought over his offer, Clyde further extended out his own aura sight. Since they were indoors Clyde did not really have to worry about tripping over things, such as uneven ground or roots. There were only three things he needed to be aware of in this specific spar, his foe, his self, and his weapon. Already focusing on the Zith, it was a simple thought and action to extend out two more strands of a smaller focus, opening himself to himself, and opening himself to Cha. While with his mundane sight he could see the room and such, in his aura sight only the three things illuminated existed. Clyde as always saw his aura as a bright silvery essence about himself, strong and thick. He did not focus any more on himself, only enough to be aware of himself within his aura sight. Cha in his hands also shone brightly, due to the strong magic laid upon it. Her colors were more subtle, a mix of silver and blue and the tiniest hint of purple if one looked right, roiling about in its colored essence that flowed about it. Then there was the Zith. He had already seen her, focused in on her, and seen her basic essence. Unlike the other two auras he focused on, upon which he only needed to keep a good gaze and awareness of, for the Zith he pressed deeper. Mentally he strode into her essence, pushing aside bits with his hands, and searching deeper for her core essence, shining within. As Clyde finished extending out his aura sight, and allowed the auras he saw to bob within his mage sight, he saw the twinned image of the Zith nodding and agreeing. For some odd reason though in his mage sight the nod seemed odd, or at least different than what he saw with his mundane eyes, though he could not say how. After she nodded though, he saw an odd stirring of her aura, like a heat haze was rising up to settle over it, a thin film covering it. Since it was not an actual physical haze, it did not affect his sight of her, as dimensions and layers were only a concept in his mage sight, and it was simple enough to look at the layers from the side and compare it in another fashion. Still he pressed inward on her aura, searching and looking. Something he had found recently, when watching Nolan's aura, was an odd ability to sense something. Intent, desire, focus, he could not properly name it, but he had a feeling it might be of use here. Reaching out for the now familiar core essence within her, he tried to find the same intent, so as to perhaps aid him in his battle. Now that he had done the technique, finding the same thing, the same niche within another aura, was much simpler. In a flurry of physical motion the Zith opened her wings and took off, flying into the air. Considering he was down on the ground, this seemed a odd thing, as she would surely need to come down to face or attack him, but he supposed it was the way of the zith to fly about when they fought. Perhaps it was the only way the felt at an advantage, if they could gain the height of the sky. Clyde himself was much larger than the Zith, and his weapon, Cha, was large also. Unlike most such staff's she was unusually long, a good 5 feet tall, about the same height as the zith itself. Taking her in a two handed grip, Clyde put himself into a ready stance, holding her across and in front of him at an angle, ready to strike with either end. However she seemed in no hurry to attack. Clyde himself had no plan to hop about like a full, batting at her as she flew in the air, and so did not mind letting her come to him. “Your move, staff boy.” Clyde simply grinned back, knowing that she thought to taunt him into a foolish act. While he could easily strike her down from here, he did not want to use his combat magics. Clearly coming at her and trying to strike her in the air would give her the advantage. Instead Clyde simply closed his eyes, and began to hum a tune to himself. She of course would not know that he could still see, due to his aura sight, and so might think he was leaving himself vulnerable by not being able to see her coming. Perhaps then this would taunt her instead into coming at him. It was a simple enough tactic, to apparently leave himself open and weak, while in actuality he was no less capable. Better to let her come to him. In the meanwhile he tried to find that niche within her essence that marked her motion, her intent and plans, within her aura. “A buzzy fuzzy twirling about. Over me its flight it hopes to tout. A staff of wood but so much more. Into your skull, with a strike it will bore.” The words worked as an odd incantation for his magic, and also as a possible method of incensing the flying Zith into an attack. Both an additional tactic, and a rhyme to pass the time.

[Irriari]

The zith waited, watching the human from above. He seemed comfortable with his staff, though he didn’t show the fluidity in movement that a true warrior would. His grip on the staff was steady, but the staff wasn’t an extension of him. Understanding this, Irriari knew that she simply had to bring him out of his element and wait for the inevitable panic and fumbling that occurred when the tables were turned. A true warrior would have shown the finesse that came from having experienced nearly every combat scenario that could occur. The man in front of her had not reached that level- his muscle was not duty bound to action through years of practice. In comparison, he was a fumbling child that had to plead with his muscles to achieve anything extraordinary. In truth, the zith knew that she was hardly any different than him. Her ability to fight with claws was barely better than it had been when she left the colony. Taking down wild boars had done nothing for her, and Ravok didn’t have many hunting parties to participate in. She waited another chime, and the blasted human simply closed his eyes and started humming. Maybe he had never sparred before. Maybe his decidedly unnatural relationship with his staff had warped his mind somehow. By the time he started talking to himself, the zith had seen enough. Baiting him into attacking her had been a stupid idea. True zith were fighters through and through. Halfway through his rant, the zith flew downward, intent on using the momentum she gained to knock him and his staff to the ground. The impact would hurt, but as long as she kept her wings flat against her back, her shoulders and torso would take most of the damage. Now, she simply had to land the hit and remove the human from his staff.

[Clyde Sullins]

Clyde waited, patiently. While he could not literally keep up his Auristics forever, the djed drain from it was no where near as much as when he used Reimancy. By comparison Auristics was a cheaper magic, particularly to use over a long period of time. Once info was prized out it was gained, and the djed spent was a slow drain, not the large spurts as he experienced with a large Reimancy spell. His closing of the eyes and his humming did not send the Zith into a frenzied attack right away, in that he was somewhat disappointed. But he could wait. And the longer she took, the closer he got to synchronizing with her essence, to see her deeper and more expressly. To find the niche of information he was in search of, and exploit it. Mentally he willed his magic deeper, constantly soaking it into her being, prizing and feeling at her Aura, and doing his work. But of course attack was inevitable, and in the end she did attack, likely in an attempt to take advantage of his lack of vision, or at least his perceived loss of vision. Thanks to his Auristics he knew exactly where she was in relation to himself, and what she was doing, as if he had a clear view of her and himself from several angles. With mundane vision one only saw from one angle, but within his mage sight anything he focused on was seen from every angle at once, a comprehensive sight that could not be obscured. It took a few chimes, but finally she did move and attack, flying directly downward at him. He saw as her muscles tensed, showing her preparation for movement, saw as she began to move, and came at him. All with his true eyes closed. Along with this he got an idea, a vague and incomplete one, but a vague notion, of himself, of his front as from her. It was not a complete intent, nor a complete focus sensing, but vague enough when tied in with her physical motions to assume she meant to dive directly at him. With his eyes still closed, Clyde prepared, waiting until she had just committed and made the movement to dive at him. As she did Clyde took a step to his right and spun to face her, bringing up Cha in a two handed grip, while keeping Cha between himself and the Zith. Assuming she did come directly down at him to slam into him, he would attempt to send her forward and down with a strike of his own, canting Cha and making a two handed downward staff strike aimed at her back and her wings once she became level with him in her dive, the motion similar as one might use to pound a peg in front of them with a large hammer. His goal was to use her own momentum against her, and force her down to crash into the ground, instead of himself. In this instance range was still on his side, as he could use Cha to strike while she was still out of range of using her physical body on Clyde.