Training makes me that much stronger
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 27 - Dext: 29 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 24
Played by: Astor Online
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Posts: 707
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#1
WESSEX
out of the night that covers me
As much as she’d wanted to help build the training arena, Wessex wasn’t up for toiling in the sun of Longheat. She can assume that her flamable ‘condition’ means that laboring in the daylight is given a pass for now. Some day she will need to be able to do so, and she hopes she will be strong enough to be up to the task. But for now - she does her training at night, when there are few others around. Clad in her simple leather get-up, the Ascended takes her first steps into what is technically her guildhall, and then keeps on moving through to the back. She surveys the instruments available and then moves towards it with a sense of purpose.

Company would be welcome, but in case no one comes to investigate the goings-on behind the guildhall (and sometimes company never finds her), she’s preparing an obstacle course. Some running, some weapons work, maybe some hand-to-hand combat. Who knows! The only thing that’s guaranteed is sweatiness and exhaustion. Just ask Melita.
black as the pit from pole to pole
i thank whatever gods may be
for my unconquerable soul
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
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Posts: 301
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#2


Are
The hall, or at least the training field should had been empty at that time of the day, Are assumed. One to favor mornings it took some getting used to, pushing any chores to as close to sunrise as possible to prepare for a day down below. In the cellar below the shop where it was cool enough to think and where the world could be put on hold for a few hours. A place that belong to only him and whatever project laid before him, shoes being more of a necessary evil than anything that had any passion burning, not like before at least.

No, the warrior was far too preoccupied with perfecting what little he knew of the art of keeping himself, and others some day, alive. By chewed sinew and boiled leather, enough to stop an arrow, maybe a dagger, but still allowing for movement. Agility he had taken the evenings to hone. Staggering, awkward steps, all in what he had made for himself. All driven by some base need to prove a point, that he was no coward. At least not like before. Even though he had bent before the will of someone he hadn't even met, he was a warrior with a quest. One for himself, and one for the greater good.

So it was a warrior looking for tools came to the hall as the sun made it's slow descent and again allowing the world to breath. Even though the sweltering heat had abated he was already clammy in the padding and hardened pieces of leather, somewhat uncomfortable just from the short jaunt from his home to the hall.

"Heill!" he offered a greeting to the figure he should've recognized. A greeting laced with surprise at first, but distilling into equal parts suspicion and curiosity. A memory stirred, but nothing came of it, dismissed as the warrior again turned his mind to what he had come for. "You, uh, doing some training? I'm Are by the way, cobbler just up the hill." Are introduced himself, motioning over his shoulder.

Wessex
Force and magic use OK.
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 27 - Dext: 29 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 24
Played by: Astor Online
Change author:
Posts: 707
MP:
#3
WESSEX
out of the night that covers me
That familiar voice comes thundering towards her, making her clench her jaw and grit her teeth. She has to make a choice now, doesn’t she? Either allow him to join her training session or drive him off. Every fiber of her being wants to snarl and play rabid Ascended, slinking towards him with unnatural speed and a predatory glint in her eyes. She wants to fling him from the arena and show him that she wasn’t fucking around when she said she could be ruthless.

But this place isn’t hers, and she knows Ronin (she’s not afraid of him, just doesn’t want him as an enemy) wouldn’t approve of her being that kind of aggressive on the premises. After a moment, she comes to the conclusion that dumb as he is, she must admit his strength and size may have its uses. So he can stay.

Under the purple and indigo canopy of the fall sky, Wessex turns from her setting up and crosses her arms across her chest. Her face is set in an unamused expression, tone dry and sharp. “Did you think I had forgotten you, Are, son of Jorm?” Because she does not think  forgotten her. And now it is the cobbler’s turn to the decide: to stay or to go. Face the ruthless cold one, the scariest thing in the woods again or save his training for another day.
black as the pit from pole to pole
i thank whatever gods may be
for my unconquerable soul
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
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Posts: 301
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#4


Are
Gods damn it.

A sharper man would've deduced what would had come crawling out of the woodwork as the sun set. A more clever man would've focused on the motions of the shadowy figure instead of the shape of the specter. A less foolish man would've turned around as he saw an enemy approaching. Yet the man did the very opposite of what he should had, only a short moment of hesitation before stepping out from the cobbler's safe abode and facing all he should hate on the field.

"I hadn't counted on it." he answered and offered a curt little bow before stuffing his head back into the helmet and re-checking all the straps. "I had my hopes, but I didn't take Wessex for a fool. I'll take a page out of a friend's book; let's get this going! You ready?" he said, brash as ever, but a mischievous smile plastered on his face. To make the best of what one had and to face one's fears. Lofty goals for a man wrapped in leather and staring down cold death,
Force and magic use OK.
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 27 - Dext: 29 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 24
Played by: Astor Online
Change author:
Posts: 707
MP:
#5
WESSEX
out of the night that covers me
A fool in some regards, maybe, but she does not forget names or faces. Especially not of tall cobblers who speak funny foreign languages.

Rather than turn tail and run, Are seems eager to continue, a definite change from the last time they’d met. She smiles, tight-lipped and set, foregoing armor and helmet in order to keep herself light and quick. “Good. A warm-up then, yeah?” She motions back to the arena, to the uneven dirt and the obstacles - which will actually be avoided. “Three times around the arena to get the blood flowing.” Or not-blood, in this case.

Without looking to see if he follows, Wessex start out at a brisk jog, going through the motions she doesn’t need to go through. Just to see what this shoe-maker turned soldier is actually made of. Dare she say she’s hoping to be impressed? Just a little bit. Something. Anything! Fine, maybe she should set her sights on just being not terribly disappointed.
black as the pit from pole to pole
i thank whatever gods may be
for my unconquerable soul
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
Change author:
Posts: 301
MP:
#6


Are
A surprise, but a welcome one, he had expected far more scorn from someone he assumed saw little of worth in him. Scorn he had hoped to had thrown his way, it would had made things far easier. Painting an enemy on a (relatively) friendly face was a far more arduous task than expected, and the lack of proper hostility had him second guessing himself.

But the words of a god was not to be questioned, especially not those when those words contained not an ounce of uncertainty. No lingering questions, no soft wrappings, I was an order.

Thoughts churned in his head as he ran the laps like he was told. By the second he was starting to feel the weight of his padded jacket, of the boiled cuirass and it reminded him of what he traded for a sense of security. Well fitted as the pieces was, he could still feel how they took the edge off his usual explosive power, what limited agility he sported still remained though.

As he came up on the last lap what had gone 'round his head several times already finally hit home. Anything. That was what he had promised. It was no longer his choice if he was to answer the call, he already had. Drenched and red faced as he was, the Leafchange night felt mighty cold as he closed in on Wessex.

He put on his best imitation of a determined and uncaring man, a warrior there to train, not to brood. "What now? We running all night?" he asked, voice harder than intended.
Force and magic use OK.
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 27 - Dext: 29 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 24
Played by: Astor Online
Change author:
Posts: 707
MP:
#7
WESSEX
out of the night that covers me
See, that's where everyone gets Wessex wrong, and this is the one time in which she will be in agreement with Zariah. Women who take what they want, say what they think in the tone that men use, are powerful and use their power unapologetically, and have little use for societal niceties are often termed monsters. According to most of Caido, her body makes her an abomination, her tongue makes her a bitch, and her mind… being a step or two ahead of others doesn't make her smart, it makes her manipulative.

That might be what she's doing to Are. It might not be. Who knows.

She doesn't sweat and doesn't pant, not actually having lungs or the need to move oxygen or cool off - well, that's never been tested, has it? How hot does an Ascended have to get to overheat and melt? How cold to freeze and shut down? How nice before she can gain something resembling his trust? She kept pace with him just to see what his pace was like, holding back on speed even when she couldn't hold back on nimbleness and sure-footed strides.

As they pause from their warm up (you're welcome, by the way, can't fight for shit with torn muscles), Wessex looks over at the weapons and the dummies. "Target practice. Then finish with some wrestling." Something he might actually have the advantage in. See, see, see, isn't she nice?

Going towards the barrel of practice weapons, she picks up a spear, tossing it from hand to hand until deciding that's not what she wants to use. More bow and arrow work, she thinks, picking through to find the important bits (fletcher arrows) and then heading back to face the dummies. There is more than enough room for Are to join and use the sacks of something as an enemy to be sliced and diced or stuck with arrows like a pin cushion. As long as he doesn't let on that they're representatives of Wessex, the two of them will be just fiiiiiiine.
black as the pit from pole to pole
i thank whatever gods may be
for my unconquerable soul
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
Change author:
Posts: 301
MP:
#8


Are
Nervous didn't quite explain it, that feeling of slowly growing anxiousness that had Are chewing the inside of his cheek in protest of it all. A body tense with barely contained... Well, what exactly remained to be seen, but at least it contributed to great force, if maybe not finesse.

Finesse that would be sorely missed if he meant to actually hit anything with the bushel of javelins he snatched up and went through in a hurry. Three of the lot seemed in agreeable shape and had that coveted balance Roana had so nagged him about. Good enough for target practice at least.

Then came those words of wisdom again, to train how you fight, so with shield still in hand he wound up and let the first one take to the skies, and fly it did. Twenty odd paces it arced through the air and with a thud bit into the hard-packed ground. The groan from Are louder than the impact itself. The rest of the bunch where sent on similar trajectories, evenly spread around the target and stuck proudly out of the dirt. "At least they went far." he grumbled to himself, glancing at Wessex and hoping for at least a touch of scorn or mockery. Anything was better than those cold, calculating eyes, silently staring, judging, planning.
Force and magic use OK.
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 27 - Dext: 29 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 24
Played by: Astor Online
Change author:
Posts: 707
MP:
#9
WESSEX
out of the night that covers me
She’s focused on her own training for a moment, working on her aim, looking for a bull’s eye. Hitting the target isn’t the problem, it’s that she wants to be precise. Accurate. Kill instead of maim… or maybe it’s the other way around. She draws, nocks, and then looks down her straight arm, down the length of the wooden shaft. No breathing. Just an internal focus. And then she lets it loose.

It’s slightly off, which causes her to make a face of annoyance. She does it again, and though the next one is closer, it still doesn’t hit the center of the center.

So the Ascended woman turns and looks at Are, who is on his last attempt to throw a javelin. It flies… and lands, but not where he wants it to, she assumes. With a raised brow, she offers a word of advice, which he can take or leave, it’s up to him. “Try standing closer. Once you hit the target move back, and so on until you’re as far as you can go.” Far is great. But Far doesn’t accomplish the goal unless the game is like, the long jump.

Wessex waits. Are can either try again or they can move on.
black as the pit from pole to pole
i thank whatever gods may be
for my unconquerable soul
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
Change author:
Posts: 301
MP:
#10


Are
There it was, at least it kinda was if he squinted and tilted his head. Something he could interpret as mockery, a font of anger spawning determination required to be a warrior of the gods!

Who was he fooling? Not even himself it seemed and with defeat in his steps he went over to gather up his wayward javelins. A clever man could probably had made a point of making an enemy underestimate him, consciously under performing and setting up for a nasty surprise once the time of steel finally arrived. A clever man would not have been so keen on showing what little he had learned. A clever man hadn't halved the distance and doubled the force, sending javelin after javelin well through the intended target, the last throw accompanied by a grunt of exertion and the impact knocking the sack fully over.

Playing to one's strengths, which in Are's case was just that, strength. Strength to pierce a boar with a mighty heave, as long as it stood still, kept at about ten paces, and Are didn't seize up at the sight of something more menacing than a painted sack.

"It's at least more than arm's reach, counts for something I guess." he said, looking over his shoulder at Wessex, hoping for... Something, what exactly he couldn't put his finger on, maybe it was fear, maybe admiration, or at least something beyond an indifferent nod.
Force and magic use OK.
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 27 - Dext: 29 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 24
Played by: Astor Online
Change author:
Posts: 707
MP:
#11
WESSEX
out of the night that covers me
He is, indeed, stronger than Wessex. But at eight inches taller and built like a tank, he should be. Anything else would be well worth her seemingly endless font of mockery.

A slight upward tilt at the corners of her mouth indicate approval for his determination to try again. Giving up is for the birds unless there’s no other option, unless what remains is death, destruction, or the knowledge that you can attempt again tomorrow and have given it your all today. He has, however, destroyed the sack - or target - poked it full of holes so that the stuffing - or straw, flour, dirt, whatever - comes leaking out. “It does. You'll be a fighter yet. Also means you owe Ronin a new dummy,” which she says with a sharp chuckle.

“How did you get so strong, Are? Surely making shoes isn’t like working a smithy.” Wessex tosses her weapons aside and moves to an empty area, giving a look that says come at me, bro and a little hand beckoning movement that indicates they’re not done yet. She settles down into a ready crouch, ready to test her speed against his brawn.
black as the pit from pole to pole
i thank whatever gods may be
for my unconquerable soul
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
Change author:
Posts: 301
MP:
#12


Are
The little quip caught him off guard, as told by a cocked eyebrow and a quizzical few moments looking at the pierced sack. A realization and a huff, sure seemed like he had made himself another tab to fill before he could rest. Another one on the pile that never seemed to fully go away before being stacked high again. And defeatism aside, he knew better than to shrug off a debt towards a man of his position, even if he didn't see eye to eye the one time they met.

A question shot his way had him rouse from his little lapse of attention. He's been promised a proper tussle, and it seemed like he was finally up for one. A true test of what he was meant to be waging war against, not exchanging pleasantries and training tips with. No, in this land he was the closest thing to Væringr they'd ever see, a man sworn to a ruler not his own. Beckoned by gods of another world to do their bidding, but he was glad to serve, to fight the good fight. And fight he would. Shield on ground, and on it he piled high the hard parts of his armor, leaving him more mobile and able to use every ounce of strength, gods knows he's probably need it.

Finally they where entering his realm though, no warrior-born, but wrestling still had not been something you had a choice in. Hard for a young man to keep respect if he couldn't through his weight around, especially coming from a line of big lads known to not shrug off a chance to prove themselves.

A chance to prove himself. Exactly the reason he rolled his shoulders a few times and sank down low. Weight on the balls of his feet, body tense and ready to strike the moment an opening appeared. "One cannot make shoes all day, and with no one but me it gets boring, so I apply myself." he said, it sounded far better than admitting he only did it to keep himself from going crazy with the loss of all he ever knew.
Force and magic use OK.
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 27 - Dext: 29 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 24
Played by: Astor Online
Change author:
Posts: 707
MP:
#13
WESSEX
out of the night that covers me
They crouch at the ready, circling maybe, or not at all. Wessex looks at Are, wondering how they keep getting thrown together when he clearly has very mixed feelings about her and she… well, she's somehow developed an ever so slight affinity for the lumbering oaf. A sado-masochistic  crusade to bully him into being better.

He doesn't seem to want to make the first move. Rather than wait for him to decide if he's all in or not, a wicked little idea pops into her head. Fuckery of the highest order.

The Ascended knows she's faster than him at night, knows she can probably dance circles around him - the trick is to not get caught by a stray arm or leg or wrapped up in a hold. Hoping to catch him by surprise, she launches herself towards him, but instead of going for a head-on collision, she tries swing right at the last moment in a feint that will take her around his big boy frame. Putting an arm out to catch his shoulder, maybe, she tries to ultimately end up on his back so she can sink her fangs into his neck and deliver some very very very fucked up orgasmic bliss.

Cause that's what training is all about, right? Endorphins!
black as the pit from pole to pole
i thank whatever gods may be
for my unconquerable soul
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
Change author:
Posts: 301
MP:
#14


Are
He saw, and that was all he could ever say about it. Lightning fast and gone in a split second, just for his eyes to catch up as he realized that his first mistake was one that reverberated throughout the ages. 'Know your enemy, and yourself.' Something Are should've taken to heart, for there he stood with the knowledge of neither, hoping to win a battle on sheer will alone. Strong hands, iron grip from all the long hours of labor, but grasping after shadows. Snatching up limbs that long since passed by and left nothing but thin air in their wake.

The pain came first, pinpricks quickly drowned out by what he could describe as Gladsheim's mead filling his veins. A rush that had every doubt, ache, and worry washed away and replaced with bliss that made his whole body feel weightless. As if the stones of the past on his shoulders where lifted and how he for a brief moment got a glimpse of what it meant to be truly whole. It could've been an eternity, it could've been just a moment, but all he knew when the world came crashing back into his mind was longing.

And hate.

Damn the false god, damn you Loke. Damn you and all your servants.

As the silken iron grip let go of his mind, there was only one thing that was on it, revenge. Trying to catch the slippery bastard to exact revenge was a wholly different thing though, something he still tried in vain.
Force and magic use OK.


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