[Training] The night is dark and full of terrors

Well if they were going to train for the Flowerbirth attack, then they should fucking train. A poorly scrawled note pops up on the notice board the night before, saying simply: Training with Wessex at dusk. Center grounds. Unfortunately for Wessex, she’s still utterly useless in the daytime, when normal people play with weapons. But things don’t always go as planned, so it’s probably a good idea for the others to do some nighttime work as well. She comes into the settlement area, toting four large torches and a big-ass, fancy sword. That’s Roana’s fancy claymore, and Wessex is shameless in her display of it. What’s the point of a shiny thing if you can’t use it? She’s asking for trouble regarding it, of course, but what are they going to do, kill her? Hahahaha. Wessex sets the four torches up in a large circle, lights them with some flint, and then just… waits. It’s cold, it’s dark, and the Ascendant woman isn’t exactly familiar, quite possibly intimidating… she acknowledges to herself that there’s a very real possibility no one will show up. WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm

Roana I am more than just a piece in their game Training for the attack on the spire? Sure thing. Roana had been at the first attack and fought the spire beast once. She knew first hand what they were up against. Training for the attack on the spire...with the bitch who stole Krosis? Oh yeah. Roana was there. Roana showed up early, her expression set into a scowl. She was dressed prepared to work, in layers that could be removed as she worked up a sweat in the cold, hair pulled back in a braid. The other sword she had, a standard issue broadsword, was in her hand at the ready. This wasn't just about training for Roana. This was about getting back what was hers; her legacy in a way. She came to win. Blue eyes glanced at the sword before looking at the face of the woman. The blonde hair seemed familiar, but the glance she had gotten wasn't enough to say this was her for sure. Not until she heard her voice. "I am here to train I suppose, but I think you know what I am really here for." She said in a low tone.

Wessex’s face splits into an ironic shit-eating grin when Roana’s face passes through the ring of torches. She smelled the woman as she approached, but wondered whether or not the woman would be up for the challenge - after all, she’d come out with the short end of the stick - stickless, rather - last time they met. It’s safe to say that Wessex has changed a little bit since then; enough to know they’ll have to work together to get shit done, but not enough to even remotely regret stealing the sword. She picks the blade up from where she’s stuck it in the frozen ground, tossing it in the air and catching it with that same hand. An appreciative eye runs up and down the blade as she pets it with her other hand, feeling the smooth, smooth metal under her skin. It’s something akin to sex and a hot meal in the middle of Deepfrost and the singing of endorphins in her once-mortal body, as she feels the mastery and the magic that went into making the blade. Somehow, she knows there is magic in it. Somehow. Her body can sense it. Blue eyes look up from her ministrations, ever so slightly devious. Wessex isn’t one for words and banter - but Roana already knew this - so after a moment of consideration, the Ascendant says simply “Let’s make a bet, then. If I win, I get something I want. If you win, you get something you want. Yes?”  Might makes right. She’ll force the foreigner to prove her worth.   WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm

Roana I am more than just a piece in their game Roana glowered when she saw that the other woman had actually stuck Krosis in the ground. Her lip actually curled in a snarl, fists clenching, adrenaline from her anger pumping through her veins. Such disrespect for a weapon that was worth more that her life!? It was just barely within the realm of her self-control to stop herself from lunging at the woman right then and there. She wasn’t so much worried that damage would come to the blade, its edge was not so easily dulled thanks to its enchantment. It was the blatant disrespect for a weapon of power – someone who knew so little about caring for a blade ought not have one at all. A bet was made. Logically, Roana knew she was outmatched. It was night time against an ascended. As strong as she was, it couldn’t compare to her might. But she didn’t have a choice. She was going to get her sword back, one way or another. ”Fine.” she said, drawing her broadsword from its sheath. The fire of the torches glinted off her blue eyes as she stared down the ascended. Most anyone else would be trembling in their boots to be in her position, but Roana was different. There was no fear, no concern, no worry – just sheer determination. She had proven more people wrong in her life than she could count. She had become a high ranking military officer while in a family that espoused the traditional gender norms. She had survived a seven-story fall and an attach from the Great Stone Cat. Obstacles were meaningless to her. And that was all this ascended was – an obstacle.

Well, a pretty big obstacle. But at least she’s up for the challenge. And for better or worse, she can get a rise out of the woman. Wessex grins on the inside, watching her stiffen at the sight of the blade. Ah, let her continue to think the Natural is a barbarian, that she knows nothing of properly caring for metal -  nevermind that all the signs are right in front of the Outlander’s eyes that Wessex uses weapons for a living and she just miiiiiight be trying to get the woman into an emotional state, rather than a logical one.   It doesn’t really matter if it works or not. The Ascended just wants to see if she can. Wessex turns away from the woman for a moment, examining the area around them by walking in a wide circle. . “Rules. We stay within the torchlight. It isn’t fair if you can’t see. We go till first blood or a submission, whichever happens first. No Magic. Swords and bodies only.” She ends across the circle from Roana, twirling the blade with her right hand. “Agreed?” Should the Outlander give her assent, Wessex will nod as well and settle into a crouch, Krosis at the ready in her right hand. “After you, Outlander,” she says with a bit of a cat-like smirk.   Hope her fingers aren’t too cold. Would be a shame if she couldn’t hold on to her weapon. Or if she should slip and fall… all sorts of things could happen out here in the dead of night, even with a small crowd gathering. Come at her, bro. WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm

Roana I am more than just a piece in their game "Oh now there're rules." Roana said dryly under her breath. Ground rules for getting stolen property back? How terribly convenient for the ascended. Must be so nice to decide when to and not to play fair; especially when fair wasn't really on the table to begin with. But other than that quiet little quip she said nothing. She simply nodded her head in agreement. Whatever. Rules-schmools. She just needed to best her in order to get her sword back. Cold. Pain. None of those things were going to stop the former Captain from achieving her goals. At the word to go, Roana didn't hesitate, charging forward with practiced speed and power, broadsword at the ready. Her blue eyes were narrowed with steely determination as she charged the ascended woman. Roana swung the shorter blade at the woman's mid-section, feinting at the last second with a quick twist, raising the broadsword to slam it down towards her shoulder. Her aim was to use the claymore's length to its disadvantage, staying in close to the woman to make it much more difficult to wield. Wessex

Ohhhh look, someone’s got a mouth on her! Someone’s also fucking ungrateful; at no point did Wessex have to offer the woman a chance to get her sword back. At no point did she specify that they have to stay within the torchlight - and out there, beyond it, in the dark, dark winter - out there is where Wessex would thrive. Her ears catch the woman’s sarcastic jab, and responds with, a biting laugh. “You want to bitch? Then no rules. Your loss.” If the little cunt was going to protest, then let’s do away with anything meant to make the playing field more fair. This isn’t training anymore, this has just become a fight. And really, she should know better than to say things like that in front of an Ascended. In any other situation - daylight, especially - Roana might have the upperhand. She has better strength and endurance - but Wessex has the better speed and cannot feel the cold. And it will get colder, especially if she makes Roana chase her into the open, where the wind can whip around her, frenzied and violent. To disregard the bitter chill of the winter night is foolish, especially if she isn’t already warm. But anyway. Wessex darts sideways from her crouch, sashaying towards the right. She swings the claymore out to the left with her left hand, blocking Roana’s broadsword, trying to push it out beyond her opponent’s edge’s reach. Her right arm tenses and out come the three blades from between her knuckles, long and sharp and deadly. She now, effectively, has two weapons. And she’s moving as quickly as she can, without becoming sloppy. When Roana tries to twist the blade up and bring it back down on her shoulder, Wessex simply parries up to stop the downward stroke, aiming to stop it before it comes anywhere near her shoulder. And with the Outlander’s blade hopefully stopped above her head (they are of equal height), Wessex lunges forward into a sideways stance, swiping at Roana’s inner arm in a downward motion with her claws. The Ascended bares her teeth, a glint in her eye. The woman had the opportunity to play nicely. Now, at least, Wessex doesn’t have to pretend to give a fuck. WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm

Roana I am more than just a piece in their game This Ascended didn't know what she was in for frankly. Sure, the night gave her some advantage, but that was all the advantagr she had. Last time she had surprise, last time she had threats. This was just between them now, and what this Ascended didn't know was that she was far from the first of her race that Roana had fought. What were Ascended here were Bloodfiends in Northwind. The extra speed, the extra strength, the inability to feel pain - it was all the same. How many drills had she done against Bloodfiend warriors? How many midnight training sessions to learn to trust one's other sense? How long had she studied their movements and methods, their strengths and weaknesses? This Ascended was just a Bloodfiend with a piss poor attitude in need of getting her ass handed to her. And that was something Roana had always been quite good at. She was a woman after. She had to be better than best. The woman parried, predictably so. The blades on her hand - which were nice for show but terribly inefficient and only good for fighting off unskilled muggers in back alleyways - wouldn't get anywhere close to the former Captain. As soon as the edge of her broadsword touched Krosis, Roana spun backwards to her left on featherlight feet, the blow not stopping but moving in a fluid follow through. Her steps brought her behind the Ascended, the broadsword swinging towards her completely unprotected left side. Her feet didn't stop though. Roana stayed in constant movement, already prepared to dodge or parry or feint left or right. The Ascended was being closely studied. Every twitch of muscle, every slight lean, every tiny bit of physical favoritism was seen, scrutinized, and anticipated. For each possibility, Roana had multiple plans of attack to follow. Practice makes perfect they say, and practice had been her entire life up to this moment. She didn't need to have the sword offered to her. She didn't need concessions. She was getting her sword back even jf it meant hacking off this woman's limbs. It had never been training for Roana. It had been a fight from the first second.

Welp. If Roana thinks Wessex is just a Bloodfiend with a pisspoor attitude, she’s already lost. How many resurrected Bloodfiends does she know? How many from Caido? Caido is the wildcard. That, and Wessex isn’t a soldier. She’s older, she’s half barbarian, she’s lived. She has imagination. She is Unpredictable. As the Outlander’s sword tings off Krosis, Wessex also recoils, continuing to move. To assume that either of them stop moving is folly. Her irritation dissipates into a finely tuned soft focus. Recent lessons have (re)taught her that emotions have no place in battle. She is all instincts and reflexes, urging her body to move faster, to judge more quickly than before. Every second - half-second, even - that she can gain is a notch in her favor. The lunge carries her diagonally forward as planned, and as she swings into empty air, uses the momentum to throw herself into a quick, tight shoulder roll on her right side. Both hands come up and cross at shoulder height, keeping the sharp bits of her weapons away from her body. Wessex’s head remains turned to the left, watching for Roana so she can aim properly. If Roana has indeed moved to where behind Wessex originally was, Wessex should pull out of her roll almost - but not quite - perpendicular to where Roana has landed. Using the length of the claymore, speed, peripheral vision, and proprioception Wessex keeps the sword low as she pulls out of the roll into a tight crouch with one foot forward in preparation to take off in another direction; she swings the blade out at approximately knee height towards Roana’s forward leg, where she is likely to have at least half, if not most of her weight placed for a strong attack.   Contact or not, she’s poised to move again, to leap into action as quickly as she can. WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm

Roana I am more than just a piece in their game Her weight being on one food simply meant she was ready to dodge. As Wessex swung the claymore at her knees, Roana jumped, moving both up and slightly forward. The follow-through of her swing at her opponent was what carried her forward, landing once more within fatal distance for her broadsword, and a bit too uncomfortably close to use the claymore well. Again she swung the broadsword, twisting on one foot as she did so. The added momentum from spinning around would make the impact of the blow all the more powerful. But even as she did so, determined blue eyes stayed locked on the Ascended, ready for anything.

Roana might be uncomfortably close if Wessex hadn’t also moved. Poor form, to assume her opponent’s reactions. She should really stop doing that. While Roana is jumping forward, Wessex pivots in her crouch, allowing the weight of the claymore to pull her around more quickly than usual. Analytical eyes calculate the Outlander’s jump, and jumping high enough to miss the claymore could give Wessex plenty of time to come full around. Moments in the air are potentially wasted time, especially if Roana plans to move afterwards. Instead of moving away, Wessex pauses for a half-second, dropping the claymore to the cold ground. As the brunette moves down and around (to which side? Aiming for what? Does it matter?) Wessex moves up and in, hoping that Roana’s little lunge forward has carried her close enough to Wessex that when she’s busy spinning around (weight transfers can be tricky, y’know), the Natural can take her by surprise - or at least off balance. Wessex fights like an animal; a wild creature, low to the ground and crazy-eyed, ready to go for the legs and the throat, because those are the most vulnerable parts. Freed of the extra weight, Wessex tenses her arm muscles to reveal a second set of blades, twins of the set on her other arm. When she leaps up, her left arm precedes her, meant to catch her opponent’s blade if it is anywhere near her, or the hilt, or even her hands/wrist if Wessex is close enough, and keep it away from her body. Her right hand is in front of her, positioned as if she were going to deliver an uppercut, though what Wessex really aims to do is drive it up towards Roana’s torso as she rises, giving her a large target area: groin, abdomen, chest, neck, head. With any luck, this two-pronged attack will see some red at the end of her deadly fingers.   WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm

Roana I am more than just a piece in their game The broadsword slammed against the smaller blades with a loud clang, but Roana's focus had shifted slightly. She had dropped Krosis. Her goal had been to get the blade back. Whether she won or lost the fight was irrelevant if she could just take it back. Her response was instantaneous. She saw Wessex reveal the twin blades and swing at her torso. Quickly she twisted backwards, both hands still on the hilt of her broadsword. The blades caught her shirt, tearing the fabric, but otherwise skidded harmlessly past her skin. The maneuver threw her weight backwards, and in response she shoved her arms forward. The hope was that with the broadsword entangled in her opponent's blades it would pull her in the opposite direction. Regardless when she fell out of reach of the hilt, she let the broadsword go, quickly tucking into a backwards roll. The maneuver took her right to her blade which she was quick to snatch up. It was like reuniting with an old friend, a wicked grin curving her lips. The weight of Krosis seemed to not affect Roana as she rose with it with ease, holding it in a defensive position in front of her. "Looks like I got what I came for."

How Roana is able to do a backwards roll to get the claymore when Wessex clearly dropped it and then leaped forward (leaving it behind her) is just… beyond any knowing. Beyond any mortal means. She is rolling in literally the wrong direction. Nevertheless… she somehow manages to come around behind Wessex before the Ascended, who is the statistically quicker woman, can fully turn around. So it goes. Luckily for the Natural, Roana seems to have grabbed the weapon by the blade, and so even as she is pushed backwards (back towards the weapon and her opponent) by the strength of the Outlander’s broadsword strike, Wessex purposefully falls with her arms (and therefore the broadsword, too)  outstretched behind her in order to try and hit the large weapon, twisting or jerking it in Roana’s hand as she grabs for it. Five feet gives her a lot to work with. Even if the woman has gotten her sword back, Wessex is likely to have drawn first blood - and as crowd around them is eager to see if that is true. They press a little closer - and having heard the terms of the deal - they are eager to see who wins. WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm