Training all torn away
for Weaver!
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
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#1
MELITA
Today it was the staff in her hands, journeying back to the training grounds instead of dancing and savagely stepping through the woods; wild and chaotic, becoming one with the nettles and brambles. Instead of basking beneath leaves and boughs, she’d brought forward one of the human-looking targets (slightly reassembled, restitched, as if it’d already been through a series of hardships), eager to maul and manifest. She’d been slightly irritated with her lack of proper performance during the Capture the Flag game (which was ridiculous in hindsight, when hours later everything had succumbed to monster ministrations, upheavals, and death), and intended to gain more prowess, more potential, more pernicious wakes.

Had it been something to relish, listening to Kiada scream and snarl? She’d be lying if she said no.

Fangorn had wandered somewhere along the sunbeams, and Melita invested her full attention into her movements. Quiet, swift, instead of what used to be – demonstrative and impulsive, giving herself away well before she’d actually instigated an attack – flipping the staff over and over in her hand, until she pinpointed a segment of the target’s limb, slashing and cutting it a swift ascension towards the stuffed ramparts.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 33 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 13 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 22 - Int:
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#2
Deimos had invited her to visit the Barracks, and being curious and always in need of a fight, she finds herself hunting out the place today. It is not all that hard to find, nestled into the Settlement as many things seem to be in the Grounds. It is about what Weaver expects to find, people moving between training grounds and the building, some groups sparring. There is one girl with flaming red hair by herself, a staff in her hands, practicing against a stuffed dummy that vaguely resembles a human.

Weaver makes her way over, standing off to the side, arms crossed, watching the girl for a few moments before making herself known (though certainly the other girl may have seen her before she actually speaks). “You know, she says, loudly enough to be heard over the clash of steel nearby, “most opponents will not stand still long enough for you to swing your weapon around for a while. Would you like a live target?” She raises an eyebrow, pulling the scythe from her across her back casually in a question.

“I’m Weaver, by the way,” she adds, figuring it might be nice to include her name before she gets into a fight with a random stranger. She could certainly use the practice, could certainly use to learn to keep her cool in a fight rather than becoming what she always is - reckless, wild, unedited.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#3
MELITA
Another approached – not a surprise, based on the barrack intervals and necessities. They all wanted to be better, wanted to prove themselves, wanted to be stronger since the fallout of the festival, since everything else always managed to flicker back into hell. Melita figured she’d be left alone to her own devices, and the other woman would wander over to her desired efforts. Instead though, she seemed to slink towards the honeybee child, and Melita was forced to snag her attention away from potent swings, a snort unfurling through her nares.

Because she wasn’t inexperienced, because she’d been through multitudes of fury and might, and come out on the other side. “Oh, I’m aware,” a wolfish, rapacious grin followed, swinging her staff so that it leaned across her shoulder, familiar and at home. “I’ve had many.” Not too be underestimated, despite her stature, despite her sunshine radiance and her effervescent glow.

Then her stare went to the munitions in clutches – unfamiliar, not something she’d been privy to see in Helovia, the Rift, or otherwise. Her head tilted, a quick perusal and study. “Nice weapon. What is it?” Curiosity amongst and amidst the earth, introductions coursing through, like customary fissures and faultlines. “I’m Melita.”
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 33 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 13 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 22 - Int:
Played by: Kyra Offline
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#4
The other greets her with confidence, a wolfish grin that reminds Weaver of a brighter version of herself. They might get along, she thinks, as the sunshine girl says that she’s had many fights. Though really, Weaver gets along with most people, even though she pretends like she doesn’t. There are some that don’t quite get her or her humor, of course, but Weaver generally isn’t bothered by most anything and as such, makes acquaintances easily. Friends though, that’s another thing entirely. She cares too fiercely to give away her heart that easily.

”Weaver,” she says, holding the scythe out with one hand if the girl wants to look closer. It wasn’t as if Weaver didn’t have a collection of other blades on her person if it came to it, so she isn’t worried about handing off a weapon to a stranger and possible crazy lady. It’s not like the possible crazy lady didn’t already have a weapon in her hand.

”It’s a scythe. Typically used for agriculture, not that we have much of that in Halo. My mother had this custom made though, modified for fighting instead. Like the double edged blade.” The original implement would have only had a sharpened edge on the underside, perfect for cutting grass but pretty awkward for cutting moving humans. Having the option to slice or dice made a difference. Besides, no agricultural tool was quite so elaborate, with it’s rather macabre raven-esque head. Sometimes Weaver wondered why her mother gave her the thing, what her expectation was, and though she had theories she wasn’t sure if any of them were right.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#5
MELITA
“A scythe,” the youth murmured, transfixed by the way the blade had been shaped and handled. It was not something she’d been accustomed to in either Helovia (too young, her mother would have had numerous scoldings haunting her ears for even thinking of going near one), or the Rift (where they made their own by the skin of their teeth, desperation, and the wilderness in their hearts). She inspected it up close, impressed with its serrated edges, with the notion of cutting with two instead of one. “Very nice.” Approval already, for fellow warriors and those with a penchant towards irreverent things. Her head tilted, contemplating, while Fangorn hovered from nearby, potentially apprehensive, concerned, or simply rummaging around looking for favorite insects. “I’m not sure my staff could hold up to it though.” She’d love to train with such an object, but didn’t have anything worth its weight or upheaval; unaware that Ludo had made the dark wood nearly unbreakable, and not keen to try it out, risking damage or distortion to a worthy artifact in its own right. Perhaps they could find something they were both accustomed to; her eyes sweeping to the numerous other offerings amongst the armory or outside stalls.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 33 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 13 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 22 - Int:
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#6
Weaver has always wondered exactly how her mother had gotten the scythe, given Halo’s rather limited resources. There were mages who could have crafted the thing, smiths who could have honed the blades, her brother’s feathers to pluck for the entirely unnecessary adornments that Weaver keeps up mostly for the excuse to pluck her brother and piss him off. There were actual ravens in Halo too, of course, occasionally delivering news so Halo wasn’t totally isolated. They left stray feathers behind sometimes, but that wasn’t really the point. Plucking her brother was the point.

The other girl gives her approval of the strange weapon, though admitting that she’s not sure the staff could hold up to it. ”If it can hold up to a sword, it can survive a scythe. If it can’t hold up to a sword, you need a better weapon,” she says, though she is already looking around for another weapon to use. It was for practice, after all, and Weaver was familiar with a number of weapons even if she favored her scythe. ”Knives, swords, or I could probably figure out how to use a staff well enough. You pick.” Because she doesn’t really care what they practice with. Everything is a weapon, their mother had taught them, so long as you are the one wielding it, my children. She’d taught them to be the weapons, whatever it took.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#7
MELITA
The girl felt strangely defensive and protective of her staff – and it wasn’t that it couldn’t hold up to the notions, she’d just never tried it against an edged blade. Afraid it would shatter. Afraid it would break. Afraid it’d be like something else in her life, fractured, splintered, and gone within the blink of an eye. Her fingers curled reflexively around it, an ease of breath, not bothering to respond to the first statement – eyes registering over the other weapons resting along armory adornments. She could always be better at swords – Amun’s training had greatly improved her otherwise poor, uncertain regard, a wealth of incomprehension righted in stoic principles. “Swords, maybe?” She inclined a Cheshire grin, relinquishing the staff to Fangorn’s guardianship (at which the little gourd growled and hissed, as if certain he’d be a grand shield for the munitions), before hastening off to the gathered multitudes. Her gaze pinpointed to the wooden training blades, since she still considered herself a novice, grabbing hold of two and venturing back towards Weaver.

Then the honeybee youth tossed one at the likely far more experienced woman – undaunted, unafraid, eager and ready to take in more opportunities for growth and savagery. The girl adopted a similar stance of preparation and guard that Amun had taught her, beckoning Weaver for the first maneuver.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 33 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 13 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 22 - Int:
Played by: Kyra Offline
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#8
The girl suggests swords and Weaver nods her agreement. The rest of her family had fought and trained with swords, and as such she had learned as well, switching between the sword and the scythe once she had gotten the latter. It was not her preferred weapon, but a useful one. Weaver puts her scythe off to the side, removing her belt of knives (leaving her feeling rather naked, but knowing she’ll grab for one out of habit if she leaves them on). Besides, it’s not like she doesn’t have a few hidden knives should anything happen.

Weaver looks up as Melita gives her staff to a living gourd. She inclines her head in his direction with a questioning look. ”Is that a gourd?” she asks. She’d heard tales of something like it, but she’d definitely thought them made up.

Weaver catches the wooden sword thrown to her. It has been a long time since she’s used wooden blades, though she finds herself thankful she doesn’t have to worry about accidentally cutting the girl. Melita moves into an appropriate stance, but Weaver doesn’t wait. Enemies don’t wait, after all.

Weaver lunges, closing the distance between them quickly with the sword coming up above her head to slash down toward Melita, hoping surprise and speed might be on her side, though she is not actually sure she will be faster than the other girl, who looks to have the advantage of youth on her side. She keeps her body angled, right shoulder back, making sure the entirety of her front isn’t as easy of a target for a counter attack.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#9
MELITA
Melita hadn’t received formal training with anything until she was swept into Caido, and others like Alistair, Wessex, and Roana took pity on her poor stances, her lack of grounding skills. In Helovia she’d played until childhood was rendered a lost cause, and within the Rift she used anything she could get her hands on – rocks, sticks, stones, hands – just in order to survive. Makeshift staffs were corded and carved from long, fallen boughs, pathetic bows honed from bending, pliable branches, and a reckless, heedless, tempestuous sway, determination instilled, but otherwise unsated. Too many monsters. Too many demons. Too many times she hadn’t been enough to protect family and friends.

Not anymore, she promised herself. She was done being some insipid little thing, with only hisses and howls.

In the midst of preparation though came a familiar inquiry – notably about Fangorn – and her eyes settled upon the pumpkin with absolute fondness, an adoring smile, before it twisted into a smirk in Weaver’s direction. “Yes, a vampire gourd. You’ll find them around here in Leafchange.” Rampaging about, being stomped upon, utilized as irritating fodder – but Fangorn was more than that. A survivor just like her.

Just like all of them.

Then it didn’t matter anymore – streaks of experienced onslaught making and marking its way towards her. They were roughly the same height, but Melita might have had an edge in speed, but certainly not expertise. She refered to the information, the movements, the motions Amun had attempted to install within muscle memory, but Weaver wasn’t so telling, wasn’t so deliberate. The youth raised her blade towards the slashing munitions, attempting to catch it before the wake of its reign came crashing down above her. Thereafter, the fiend intended to push up against Weaver’s, then drag it down, underneath, wood scraping against wood on strength alone, in order to initiate her own strike upon the woman’s left shoulder.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 33 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 13 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 22 - Int:
Played by: Kyra Offline
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Posts: 903 | Total: 918
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#10
”Huh,” she says, impressed to find that they were indeed real. What a strange, and weirdly cute, thing. She sort of wants to spend proper time getting to know a living vampire gourd, but there is a battle to fight and training to be had and her attention shifts to the fight at hand.

Melita’s wooden sword comes up to meet Weaver’s in a predictable defense. It is her next move, dragging downward to come under and toward Weaver’s left shoulder that takes her by surprise, the girl far stronger than she appears. Weaver doesn’t fight it, but raising her wooden sword and stepping back out of the way (almost) of Melita’s attack. The other girl scrapes against her target slightly, enough to have cut in real battle, but not enough to do lasting damage.

If Weaver is lucky, the sudden removal of the blade Melita had been pushing against would throw the girl off balance. Weaver could hope, and with that small hope she moves quickly, again raising her blade high, lunging forward with her other leg to put her right shoulder forward. If this were a real fight, she’d be favoring the uninjured side now, and the sting from the contact moment ago reminds her of this.

Weaver keeps her eyes up and forward, but at the last moment she pivots, her left leg moving behind her to change her angle as the blade sweeps around and down toward Melita’s legs instead of head. A feint, though the girl was fast and strong and Weaver isn’t sure how well the trick might work.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#11
MELITA
The problem with power was that sometimes Melita forgot what came when there was no longer anything to brace against – whether that was her hate, her vitriol, her vengeance, or in this case, another form. Weaver’s movement away from her sword left her slightly off-kilter, off-balanced, and she had to force herself back into the ground, rooted into its surface again. Inexperience showed, ignorance bloomed, and her eyes narrowed into a feral intensity. She should’ve known better.

Weaver’s platitude told a multitude of stories in its might. As if it was all battle-hardened, as if she’d done this a thousand time before. Melita had in other capacities, but most of them had been to live, to survive. She caught Weaver’s movement and sought to alleviate it, a feint in Amun’s meticulous training, droning in her head. Going for the head, but sweeping for the feet; tricky, tricky – Melita did her best to lower her blade down by her legs, in attempt to catch. But gods, the angle was bizarre and not grand for offensive measures on her part.

In attempt to use her might again, she tried to push more of her strength into the movement, so perhaps it could cast aside the wooden blade once more, and rush towards Weaver’s form.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 33 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 13 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 22 - Int:
Played by: Kyra Offline
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#12
The angle was bizarre. It was a move Weaver used not to put much force behind, but rather just to get a nice cut across the leg to hinder some movement. It was also a movement that worked a little bit better with the curved blade of her scythe than the straight blade of the sword. Still, it would test and train the girl well enough. Never trust your enemy, even the friendly ones.

It was the sort of move she’d use with her brothers, trying to trick them. She has done this a thousand times, the three of them fighting both to train and simply for something to do. Swordplay became a form of entertainment for them, trying to best the others in their play war. Though Erebor always trained them, always corrected them. It is his voice she hears whenever she gets sloppy, driven by wildfires instead of mountains as he was. It is his voice that says Well done, when the tricks succeed.

Melita parries at the strange angle, trying to push away Weaver’s blade again. There’s less force at this angle, but still, rather than losing the battle of strength, Weaver lets the girl succeed. She uses the momentum and her already odd angle to spin, left leg continuing it’s pivot backward so that she spins around and toward Melita’s side and back. The sword swings with the movement, continuing toward the small of Melita’s back.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#13
MELITA
There’d been no training in Helovia (too young) or the Rift (too hellbent on existing). She would’ve relished or cherished anything amongst siblings or friends, but her sister had been gentle, lovely, and tender, and Melita had been the rough thing on the wind, grating against the world. None of them had expressed interest in fighting except to stay alive, and even then, some had fallen to pieces. The honeybee youth had bit down on enamel and rested her laurels in abhorrence and revenge; which might have been how she endured or persisted at all, when others didn’t, when they were nothing but memories and scattered souls.

Sword movements were enough to regard the state of memories gone and vanquished, attention riveting to the tactics employed by someone with far greater experience. Weaver spun, and Melita attempted to do the same – though with much less depth and skill – not wanting her side, her back, exposed to the drop of the blade. Instead, she raised her arm, her blade, and tried to catch Weaver’s again, irked that she was constantly on the defensive, lacking some fundamental aspects, fighting down the nature of ignorance.
help tonight to split its seams
Give the bruises out like gifts
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 33 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 13 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 22 - Int:
Played by: Kyra Offline
Change author:
Posts: 903 | Total: 918
MP: 0
#14
”Surprise me,” Weaver says as their blades clash again. Melita moves with her, as targets are annoyingly wont to do, catching the attack Weaver had planned. ”Take a risk.” This is the sort of training she had received, and she can’t help give it now. The girl is good. She’s strong, she understands the nature of battle, but she’s afraid to get hurt. Understandable. No one wants to risk the hit, but sometimes you take the risk for the reward. ”My side is wide open too.”

Weaver takes too many risks in a fight, particularly one like this when the chance of injury is nothing more than a few good bruises. This is the time to take risks, to test the outcomes, to decide what risks you are willing to make when the stakes are higher.

Weaver really hates only fighting with one blade and rules. This isn’t how real fights go, and she itches for a knife or a good kick to throw the battle toward one side. Instead she pulls her sword away from Melita’s blade, though not far, shifting her blade to swing down toward Melita’s legs. It wouldn’t be a strong attack, the approach awkward, but maybe enough to send the girl stumbling backward.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens




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