Nest Upon The Heart

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25th of Zi'da 716

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25th Zi'da, 716
22nd Break
Socializing: The act of interacting with individuals.

Finding a definition for the word was not complicated. However, understanding and performing are two different concepts, which, quite frequently, did not relate to the other in any sort of way. One could wield a sword a hundred different ways, and yet not because of that said individual understood what he was doing. A conversation, or any basic social interaction for that matter, could be branded in the same category. Submissive personalities combined with low self-esteem probably lacked the necessary tools to satisfy their social demands, and yet for certain are aware of what the concept stands for. A cow, a bear, or a fish –primitive animals without apparent capacity of logical thought – knew not what socializing meant, yet they communicate and interact with each other nonetheless.

For Kovic, both cases were true, and were able to be applied to his being. He alone had deciphered the meaning of the word, and the action it described, throughout logic and experience, and much like an animal, he was able to transmit and interact with his environment. However, those interactions lacked depth. A male opens his mouth and speaks to his peer, and those words, Kovic thought, escaped from deep inside him. A sentiment, an inner being. A combination of different patterns of thinking, feeling, and behaving. When Kovic spoke, he did not felt that depth within his words. He spoke without purpose, and communicated only what matched with his peer’s requirements. Most times, he felt like a bad quality copy of those individuals he surrounded himself with. A hollow mimic that never quite managed to understand any concept fully, nor perform said concept correctly.

Kovic snickered, his hand patting his co-worker eagerly. It had been a long and exhausting trial of work, the group of lumberjacks now finding solace and comfort in the half-finished mugs of ale, and the smoking pipes they held in their bearded features. The job was hard and long, and large part of the day was spent commuting in wagons towards the nearest forestation zones. Kovic disliked manual labor, as it made him feel even hungrier, yet this particular employment offered him warm clothing, a bunk in the barracks, and two meals a day. For the moment, and whilst he looked for someone else to latch onto – hoping to satisfy his basic needs without the need of actual labor –, Kovic did not complain.

The mood of the quartet of workers was calm and quiet, yet the manly bravado of testosterone and facial hair resurfaced every now and then. Comments about sexual intents destined towards female pedestrians were common amongst them, just as much as complaining about the work conditions –something that, apparently, was common in every part of the world – and gossiping about a wide variety of topics. Kovic remained quiet most of the times, instead pretending he was too tired to socially engage with his co-workers. Whenever he did interact with them, mandatorily doing so every so often to maintain his façade, he did so in the form of laughs, chuckles, and scoffs, along with occasional eye contact.

The streets were cold, and the occasional ocean breeze punished the bulking males by sending intense shivers down their spines. In a stubborn attempt to salvage what remained of the day, desperately trying to avoid the sad procession towards bunks and beds, towards ungrateful wives or unsatisfying realities, the men remained outside, valiantly defying logic and healthy habits. Or stupidly, if Kovic could voice his honest opinion. Unlike his patrons, he did not leisure in smoking a pipe – a habit he found rather bizarre – or found comfort in the bitter contents of their tankards. Alas, his Ether Lure was active, flaring at medium intensity in hopes of alluring one of the males. Every man, woman, or child could offer something to Kovic, and he felt no guilt in taking advantage from it. Eventually, they would be reduced to his puppets.
The largest lumberjack’s arm unwrapped the tankard, and pointed towards the voluminous rear of a fleeting female.
“I’d gladly drain my cock inside her sewage. HA!” he exclaimed.
The group chuckled, as usual.
Kovic chuckled too, and rose his tankard to his lips. He pretended to drink. Before he could realize it, the leader of the group was staring at him. Kovic detected the suspicion and skepticism in his eyes.
“Why are you laughing?” asked the so-called leader. “You didn’t even look at her.”
“I didn’t need to,” replied Kovic, immediately. Another moment of improvisation. Assuming the identity of a sexual jock that belonged within the group wasn’t hard. The guidelines were as follow; proclaim coitus as the only activity one wished to practice, hide one’s insecurity below muscle-mass and stiff poise, assess female’s worth by the characteristics of breasts, rears, and general sex appeal, and display a depth of character of a victim struck by blunt force trauma. By far one of the easiest acts one could assume. “I saw her baggy tits and looked away!” explained Kovic, following the statement with an obnoxiously loud chuckle.
The group chuckled, as usual.

Kovic looked away, and once again rose the tankard to his lips, pretending to drink once more. His hopes of seducing the leader, whom showed signs of inverted sexual preferences, were being frustratingly annoying.

Alas, this is what socializing felt like.
word count: 913
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Night didn't want to walk past the group of annoying, loud, and all around pointlessly abrasive men. Each one disgusted her in their own way, though she tried to force the thoughts back. She hated looking down upon other people, it was exactly what had happened to her for her entire life and so she'd grown a distaste for the action. But she couldn't help being slightly appalled when a loud, and obviously drunk, group of men sat around spitting nonsense and toxins about poor women that passed by. Night moved to the over side of the man she was talking to, apparently a group of guards were having trouble handling a bandit. This was where she came in. Night being a morally bound sell sword was more than happy to oblige the request, so the two walked the city streets and talked about the job. It was hard to stay in one place with the chill in the air, movement at least provided some form of warmth. At the very least the half avriel got colder a lot slower than the normal person. High altitudes had her accustomed to cold air, but that didn't make it any less unpleasant. "Can we not go this way?" She whispered quietly to the guard as they moved closer and closer towards the group of males.

It wasn't the thought of them talking sexually about her that made her so fearful, it was the fact that she was obviously half avriel that stuck an unsettling chord. Often people in Etzos weren't too happy about the idea of avriels, let alone disgusting half breeds like herself. The constant stream of harassment had gotten a lot easier and moved instead to a steady drip, she'd even got to the point where some people knew her name and she had the respect of a good number of guards for her deeds. Yet she was in a part of town she didn't often travel to. Here her face was still fresh, and so was the prejudiced.

Over her time in the city to make matters worse she'd become a lot braver. Now that her cloak was far too ratty to wear around everywhere and she was waiting for her new one she was rendered coverless putting her wings and her strange legs on display. If one could look past those features then she was quite beautiful with skin like snow, long ebony locks that trailed down lazily to her waist, and sharp midnight eyes that glinted with hints of gray. Her large black wings were both something beautiful and horrifying to those who weren't accustomed to the idea. Her legs which were long, covered in pitch feathers and ended in bird like feet complete with talons could be down right the stuff of nightmares. Nightshade knew she was a walking nightmare, a monster, a poisonous plant drifting on the wind waiting to be snatched up and used for her intended purpose. And yet she still tried to be as good a person as she could. Distrustful and yet somehow trusting. She had a talent for seeing the good and the bad in everyone and everything. Of course that didn't make her merciful towards murdered, thieves, and bandits. But it did give her a sense of mercy and pity towards those who she didn't necessarily favor.

Of course the opinion of a person could always be changed. Thoughts passed like seasons. One season she could be completely harassed and hated by all of her coworkers, and suddenly the next they're finally putting up with her. Perhaps next season they'll even like her when she's the only one with the balls to go out in the dark Cylus cold! She laughed at the thought, oh how time had changed the tune of those she worked with. She supposed she finally bailed them all out of death enough to be worthy of some form of respect.

Finally she and the guard who walked by her side passed the table of men at which Kovic sat. Of course she got exactly the response she expected. "Pigs," the guard muttered under his breath only to get elbowed by Night. "It's true!" The guard shot back. This happened to be one of the guards who was fond of her.

"True, but rude. Trust me, unless you're going to be boot licking keep your mouth shut around these kind of people," she whispered back in a hushed tone. Of course her voice was far quieter than the guard, who'd been purposefully louder than a mutter might require. Night's voice was a brisk whisper, loud enough that only the guard standing shoulder to shoulder with her would hear. Night had to agree with the comment he made, but her own stood true. She didn't want any kind of trouble today, she was already developing a headache.
word count: 831
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A fantasy crossed Kovic’s attentive gaze. An intense desire, a childish whim, or an unreasonable caprice took over him immediately; an emotion, a sentiment. It was intense, and it had taken him by surprise. He knew what emotion was, for he too had deduced its meaning: a strong feeling deriving from one's circumstances, mood, or relationships with others. Kovic played with emotions every time he forged a mask, which was most of the times. A disturbance within him, clouding his reasoning immediately, pushing him away from knowledge or reasoning, and instead allowing this strange instinct to take over. Now, as he looked upon the incoming female, for the first time in a long time, he felt something other than hunger – and Kovic did not like that.
Female, humanoid, unknown age, seemingly young, unknown weight, possibly well below average. Avian characteristics present in her frame: feathers, talons… wings. Black and large, apparently functional. No signs of atrophy visible, thus ruled healthy for the time being. No previous contact with this mixture between avian and humanoid left Kovic somewhat lost in his analysis, yet not because of that his intentions changed. Wings were his obsession, and the possibility of flight was… enticing. Obsessive, even.

He needed them.

Kovic’s features did not reflect his secret obsession, except perhaps by the blue eyes that stared, wide agape, at the passing female and the wings she so proudly paraded. Obsessed with evolving, with constantly improving, Kovic’s immediate cover was somewhat forgotten, as his gaze remained on his target even for his temporary colleges to witness.
“Look at this one,” said the leader to the other more attentive colleges. “Trying to bury a bone in a nest. HA!”
The group chuckled, but Kovic did not.
His gaze was captured. It wasn’t him who did the stalking, but it was her wings what had mesmerized him into watching. Trapped him, perhaps. The notion of flight had incrusted itself within his mind, and so now he imagined all the advantages said skill could offer him. A life of increased comfort, of ease in feeding, of increased security. Settling down, perhaps, and mingle with civilization even further. Sleeping beneath soft blankets, above a soft bed, below a solid roof. All of that, though Kovic. All of that by acquiring wings.

Without a plan, and without a word, he stood up, took his axe, and followed after the female. The armed individuals beside her were intimidating, true, and the risks of trying to infiltrate the group were too many, yet Kovic did not see to reason. The lumberjacks behind him called for him, lightly offended, but they were as ignored as reason and logic. Rushing forth, he moved past the group, and instead planted himself right in their path.
“Excuse me,” he said, his soft voice accompanied with a soft and humble smile. His eyes fixed immediately upon the females’. “Could I steal your attention for a thrill?”
Perhaps a rather rash approach, true, yet Kovic’s agile mind quickly improvised a valid argument. The guards were clearly not as friendly as Kovic appeared.
“Hi! I am Paplo Ynush,” began Kovic, in an affable and amicable tone. “… and I was hoping to join the city guard. However, I was told that the job is far too difficult, and I was dismissed without having the chance to prove myself.”
The guards did not enjoy the interruption, and obviously tried to move past.
“Just a moment, please!” replied Kovic to their attempts, stepping back into their sights. “I’m capable of fighting, and I have my loyal axe,” he rose his left arm, which held the axe used in his faked lumberjacking experience. “… With me. Please, kind gentlemen! Allow me to join you this once, to prove my worth as a warrior and servitor of justice to you all, in return of a good word from your part to the local recruiter!”
Kovic shined a wide grin to the gentlemen, and a second bow.

Standing before them, Kovic’s frame seemed healthy and fit for physical activities, illusion perhaps enhanced by his height. His clothing was modest, and various scratches and remains of vegetation had incrusted within the fabric. His hands and features were somewhat filthy, obviously having had a good sweat recently, to which the dust had settled on it before drying out. As for his posture, it was straight and correct, which combined with the affable expression and attitude – creating the façade of an energetic man that wished nothing more but to satisfy his dreams.
“I’ll be quiet, I will do as I’m told, and will not get in your way. Please?”
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Eyes. Nightshade could feel eyes burning into her. Not nessisarily her, but her wings. Any other day and she would have thought it normal. Of course people would gawk at her wings. Yet there was something about the stare itself that made bumps rise on her skin. She supressed the urge to fluff out her feathers, instead increasing her pace. Her stride was swift and yet elegant and she held herself a little taller. Enemy. This was how she acted and felt when she thought there was an enemy around. Her eyes danced about trying to pinpoint the location of the stare but it quickly subsided. That only proved to be more worrying when someone tried to approach the small group.

Night didn't know how to feel about the man in front of her. Something just felt off. It wasn't something that Nightshade herself would notice though. It was something deep, something the animalistic and wild part of her nature picked up. Oh how she shunned that nature. Yet here it was telling her that this man was wrong. She forced the idea back trying to give the benifit of the doubt. Maybe it was someone else she was feeling that way about, hell, she could even be sick and her judgement could be off for all she knew. But the sensation didn't go away as the man spoke with the guards. If anything the nipping sensation at the back of her mind turned into a vicious clawing sensation that screamed something was off.

"This is a profesional job that not even the gaurds could handle on their own. We don't have time to baby sit someone who's still wet behind the ears," one of the guards argued. The one that was fondest of Night also seemed to think that something was off. The two others, a man and a woman, weren't really picking up on it. They were oblivious to anything that could have been wrong.

"This man seems like he can hold his weight. Besides, we couldn't do this on our own. All the more reason to get some aid in our endevors. The more swords we have the more likely we are to hold our own in this fight," the woman of the group said and then took a quick glance at Nightshade. "Besides. If anything goes wrong there's a reason we're bringing her," the woman quickly tacked on. Right, hide behind the expert swords woman if anything goes wrong. What a lovely idea with absolutely no flaws what so ever. "It's two against one unless the little bird would like to give her imput," she huffed at her ally, a look of annoyance across her features.

"I honestly couldn't care less. The sooner we get this job done the better, so can we please quite arguing and leave?" Night asked with a slight edge of annoyance in her tone. Annyoance was a great way to hide fear. Honestly she couldn't care more than she did. This man... There was something about him that made Night want to fly away as quickly as possible. She couldn't remember many recent occasions where she'd felt like this. But she certainly could remember some in the past. It was the same kind of feeling she got around Ivan or the Master. There was something predatorial and dangerous behind sweet smiles and honey covered words. The connection made her shiver slightly. A fearful action that could easily be interpreted as the reaction to a cold breeze which fluttered by kissing Night's cheeks and fingers till they turned a rosy pink.

"Alright, fine. Stay close and don't get in the way," the guard at Night's side snapped angrily. His eyes reflected a certain kind of fear. Night drew some form of comfort from the fact she wasn't the only one fearful of this man. But there was also worry which danced in the pit of her heart. If this man, this creature was really as bad as Night thought he was then that fear might get her guard friend killed. Night had half a mind to back out. There were so many thought that tormented her. She wished Mal was here, she wished Alex was here, she wished for anyone to be here that would have understood her and supported her. But Alex was in Rynmere, one of the places Night's kind would never be able to go without something to make her look human. Mal, Mal was long gone. She hoped with all of her heart that he was okay. If luck was kind then Mal would be free to live his life and do as he pleased. He would have undoubtably left her far behind by now, she was little more than a memory to him at best. Unmemorable at all if worse came to worse. But that was okay, because Mal needed to be far away from Etzos and its army. She couldn't help the bitter thought that neither of them were around when she needed them most and yet she had been there for them. She pushed the thought aside rather violently, almost appalled by the fact she would think it up.

"So what are we doing again?" She asked the gaurd trying to force away the thought of Mal and Alex leaving her behind. There was a sharp sensesation of tears in her eyes but she blinked a couple times ignoring it as she turned her mind back towards work.

"Bandits have set up something of a den outside of town. They managed to find a strech of land and a hill they can defend. They've been managing to keep the advantage because whenever we try to get up there we just get pelted with arrorws. It's quickly becoming a pain. Anyone involved is going to be rewarded richly, paid by the city as well as given the oppritunity to loot the place. Of course this is where you come in. We need you to distract the archers and take as many of them out as you can," he said going over the plan once more. Of course Night didn't actually need to hear it a second time. She was just trying to be kind to the groups new arrival.

"You got that new guy? Let's head out and get this done as soon as possible," the final man of the group said breaking the eternal silence he'd shown since the arival of Kovic.

As the group progessed Night eventually forgot the feeling and the man it was tacked onto. Her distrust faded like an unpleasant memory. Perhaps it had been her own silly immagination all along? She'd didn't like be approached anymore after everything that happened. She would have surely reacted the same towards anyone else.
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Kovic’s smile varied its intensity as the discussion progressed. It lost power whenever circumstances pointed towards his dismissal, and it grew stronger whenever the favor steered towards him. There was something magical in earing the favor of others, or at least Kovic felt it so. It was perhaps a gentle stroke to his ego, an unspoken compliment to his skillset. As the apex predator, Kovic did not quite care for the wellbeing of anyone other than himself, although he was not against integrating within the lower species. After all, they were the majority of the population, and the knowledge they held was far too precious an asset to ignore.
It was the avian’s word what allowed him to finally integrate within the squad, to which Kovic offered a light bow in appreciation.
“Thank you! I will do my best!” he said, bowing yet again.

The situation and current endeavor of the squad was shared at last – details that made Kovic cringe, as they exposed the truth of what he was about to face. A defendable position on a steep surface, previously failed attempts of conquest, and what had been described as a den of ruffians. If only he had not been so impulsive, he wouldn’t have had to face a situation as dangerous as this one.
However, an advantage was obvious once the group was on its way again, their new addition advancing beside them, close to the avian – to whom he’d smile again and again were she to look towards his direction. Said advantage was, obviously, the impending darkness of night. Even if they were armed and blessed with torches currently, once the assault began, the darkness would swallow the fighters, and so the conquest was possible.

Unless traps had been placed.

Kovic detested violence. Any individual that resorted to violence regularly either lacked the necessary intelligence to fight with psychology, or were psychologically indoctrinated into false notions. Even when he killed, Kovic did so quickly, and always made sure the chances of success were in his favor. Open conflict escaped his area of expertise, and so he felt moderately uneasy with the incoming situation.

The group soon left the city borders, and armed with their torches, advanced forth on the soil roads. Whatever lighting remained in the scene was limited to the moon, and the torches and lamps scattered on the city that was being left behind. Out there, in the darkness of night, the breeze seemed colder, bringing distant noise of fluttering vegetation and muffled whistles. The collection of somber whispers served as the soundtrack for the sojourn, which, combined with the sounds of boots marching forth and the clinking of metallic items from each individual, rose the tension within the group, and created the funerary atmosphere everyone would expect from such a quest.

Casualties were guaranteed.

“So,” said Kovic at last, his smile gleaming in the torchlight towards the avian. “I take it you’re the expert in these situations? You look strong!”
A compliment could perhaps facilitate communication between the two, and maybe it would establish a line of empathy in consequence.
“I must admit I’m not very experienced in these… situations. Do you have some advice? Better safe than sorry, correct?” He chuckled.

It didn’t take too much time for the group to deviate from the path, and instead advance through the deforested area that surrounded Etzos. Remains of tree trunks peeked over the cold soil, and dead bushes had overpopulated the remaining space. The only cover one could imagine laid behind those trunks, which were not tall enough to offer protection were the arrows to begin landing from the skies. Shortly after, the hill in question was in sight, and the situation was revealed as it truly was: complicated and difficult.
“We should probably extinguish the lights, don’t you think?” commented Kovic. “In case they have scouts. It’d be better to take them by surprise, and avoid those arrows you spoke of.”
The guards looked towards Nightshade, seemingly placing the situation on her able hands. The failed attempts of conquering the hill was proof of their need for assistance – and it seemed the Avian was that assistance.
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Kovic had no clue what he was getting himself into. He didn't know anything of what the half avriel had done in her life. All of it was for the good of others though. There was a kind of sweet irony there. Such a greedy creature like him trying to meet his desired ends by using someone as selfless as Night. The only thing that could be said about such an idea was that the world would be working against him. Night was amiable at the least when Kovic approached her and tried to talk. "I've been at this for some time now. This is the life I chose for myself because I wanted to make sure no one else had to take this path. You could say I'm an expert in a fight, but that's not a good thing to be," she said quietly shaking her head. It was hard to tell what kind of effect the compliment had. Night had a natural poker face, something that had built up from years of living under the master. Her emotions were hard to understand and her responses to Kovic even harder. There was something cold and lacking in emotion in the way she acted, and yet there was also something warm in the way she spoke almost fondly to those brave enough to approach her and speak kindly.

"The best advice I can give you is stay out of the way. I don't care how experience or inexperienced you are with that ax, if you get in the way you'll only get yourself and everyone around you killed. Be careful and try your best to aid your allies instead of trying to be a hero," she said simply. It was obvious she wasn't trying to be rude, but she clearly was in doubt of Kovic and that showed in her way of speaking. There was something about him that made him seem like he wasn't made for this life. It was the way he played the excitement in the character he pretended to be. It was the kind of excitement seen in those who never before tasted battle. People like that irritated Night beyond all belief. Why would you willingly throw yourself into something like this without even tasting the suffering that cause it? Night had spent her entire life on the battle field because she had a reason to. She had people that she wanted to protect. To her this man seemed like a foolish child, one that was wasting the gift he'd been given. She kept her face clear and her eyes pointed forward, should he have caught a glimpse of them Kovic surely would have seen the twisting emotions inside of her that her face refused to show.

Night moved a couple paces forward, trying to match her speed with the leader of group. The two whispered to each other off and on, seemingly about tactics.

When they finally got to the place the bandits had set themselves up at her eyes darted around trying to get a feel for what this battle would entail. It was a rough camp but there were enough archers to prove a problem if they didn't approach the situation carefully. She barely processed the words of the others of her group as her mind flitted through any possible idea that could glean them the advantage. A straight forward charge would end in death, trying to flank it would end it death, trying to get around would end in death. She could see why the Etzori were having so much trouble. Each side was heavily guarded by archers on roughly built wooden walls. It might be possible to push through with enough force but there would be heavy casualty and after the problems last season Etzos wasn't ready to deal with that. Shields would help but it became increasingly obvious a ground assault was pointless. "That's the problem, the only way to win is to drive them out of camp and into the open. But how do you drive them out when you can only get to them by flying," she muttered to herself twisting her head to the side.

"Shh," one of the guards shushed Kovic as they all turned towards Night. She needed to think. None of them extinguished the lights instead looking towards the half breed for guidance. "That's it," she gasped quietly as her eyes widened slightly. They shimmered like jewels as she turned to her allies. "Put out all of the torches except for one and give that one to me," she said reaching out for the stick of wood.

"Wait until my signal to start to fight," she said rising up into the air with a great pump of her wings. The half avriel rose higher and higher with complete ease until the torch she bared could have easily been mistaken for a star in the night sky. Unnoticed by archers the sky bound glint moved above the hill. Without any warning the small flare of hope started to plummet out of the sky, the torch landed within the walls of the encampment. The half avriel however was not included in this free fall. Moments passed and no one was the wiser until a series of screams rose up on the cold night air.

Fighters rushed out of the encampment as something caught ablaze. It was hard to tell what the first thing to catch fire was, it had already spread to a multitude of the defenses as well as any unfortunate tent nearby. The camp started to go up in flame like it was straw or paper. None of the enemy fighters were prepared for such an attack, no one had any water to put out the flame and it started spreading at a startling rate considering the damp Zi'da cold. In the dark of the night a creature swooped past completely unnoticed. For only a moment was the warrior visible. Fire light glinted off wings that resembled midnight, small dots of snow glinted on her feathers and hair like they were starts. The heroine came down like a mighty beast ready to smite any foe in her wake. There was something grand about her appearance, the grace and ease she held in the face of what had moments prior been an unwinnable fight. The archer she aimed her weapon at hit the ground in a moment. Just like that the archers were mice and she was a hawk. Rendered useless the archers threw themselves off their rough wooden platforms which had before given them the advantage. Now up there they were sitting ducks and massive targets. It was hard to say where the winged beast might strike next, the moment she was out of the range of the fire light she was gone again with the darkness. The only thing to warn of her comeing was the way the fire glinted in her eyes, and by the time the archers saw the dark blue orbs dancing in the shimmer of flame it was too late.

It was complete chaos as the archers randomly started to fire into the air. Most of the arrows came down harmlessly, but a number managed to hit the warriors surrounding the archers. The fighters fell and the group of guards had yet to even reveal themselves. The pandemonium only continued when one of the guards motioned to the others. With a great call the party charged into the thick of the battle swinging weapons valiantly to aid their guardian angel.
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Sigh.

Conversation did not seem to work on the female, for no warmth was detected in what seemed to be a rather bored tone from her part. Being met with indifference as usual, Kovic wondered if his attempts to penetrate the female’s bubble should be as light as this one. Some females naturally fell under his spell, and others, like the Avian, needed more persuasion. Perhaps his spell should be waved with a wand, wand composed of a large stick that could easily knock out the female if he struck her just right. His eyes were, ironically, under the avian’s biological spell, for her wings drew his attention far too often to feel immersed in his act. Paplo, the man Kovic played to be, would never be as reckless as Kovic was forcing him to be, and so a certain self-loathing had temporarily seeped within his mind. Going to face open combat for mere curiosity was a grave mistake he’d have to make up for.

Warfare and strategy was discussed between the squad – them discussing it with judgmental silence, and the Avian discussing it with actual ideas and insights. Said fact did not inspire much confidence within Paplo, for the armed and armored guards were implying their incompetence by laying the matter atop the female’s mind. Considering he had to fight beside them both for the sake of fitting in, and for the sake of honoring the female’s advice, he would’ve indeed sighed if it didn’t go against his act. This would certainly be the last time he’d expose himself to these unnecessary risks. Next time, he’d just drug her and drag her into an alley to inspect her biological qualities. Even an alley in the midst of Etzos would be preferable to facing live opponents.

An idea had made it’s way within the female’s mind, whom quickly armed herself with a torch and flew within the skies. Paplo admired her from below, obviously, for she truly had the capacity of flight. If envy was an emotion he was had learned to experience, this moment would’ve been perfect to make use of it. Perhaps his admiration was too obvious, for the guards required a physical poke to snap him out of his staring.
“Be ready, you,” said one of the guards.
“Yes, sir!” replied Paplo quietly, but clearly enthusiastic.

They waited in the cold darkness of the night for the signal the female had promised. The wait stretched, and her promise seemed to be flawed, for nothing had happened just yet – other than the torch dropped that could be easily be confused for a falling star. Nothing happened. A gust of wind. Silence. One of the guards spat. Nothing.

And then, from the nothingness, a strong combustion began within the encampment. What had once been a large storage of strong alcohol was now the fire that spread throughout the makeshift base of the scoundrels, whose profits was literally being burned away by one of the most basic chemical reactions. Following the example of combustion, the individuals within the base burst into screams, for blood was spilling as much as rum, and the flying creature punished the shocked individuals that regretted ever being consumed by their greed. Suffice to say, the Avian’s signal was pretty clear, be it by the sense of smell, sight, hearing, or even taste – for so thick was the smoke that fogged around the hill.

Paplo ran off after his comrades, who eagerly roared their battle cries into the night, their blades yearning for the taste of flesh. Not as convinced as his comrades, Paplo did not follow the armored guards within the burning fortress. Light would expose him, and being exposed meant being vulnerable. Instead, the male remained outside, and started circling around the walls opposite to the fire. There, in the darkness, is where he found what he had been expecting – the unspoken rout that had been called by those smart enough to abandon the lost cause. Two individuals ran for their lives, unarmed, trying to overcome the obstacles of cut tree trunks. Their urgent comments and pants served to guide Paplo through the darkness, and when they heard his crunchy footsteps, they were unable to turn back in time.

Paplo’s axe swept the darkness, and the blade found target upon the chest of a male, whom died moments later. The confusion was equal in both the attacker and the attacked, although the last one had less time to process it, for Famula had already delivered his soul. The other individual heard something, be it the gurgling sounds of death or the sounds of a ribcage crushing loudly, and began a swift run in the opposite direction. Paplo chased after him, unafraid, for once again he had found a way to have the upper hand. Being a winner was a matter of intelligence.

The run of both prey and predator did not take them too far away, for the terrain was far too tricky to be advanced in the darkness, yet it did take quite some time. Paplo followed the same trail the male before him did, and took notice of the few obstacles that came within his prey’s path, successfully avoiding them after him. Both their eyes got used to the lack of light, and so their vision improved considerably, yet the haste and panic countered this advantage. The prey tripped over a root, and Paplo rose his axe in attempts of claiming his life.

Misfortune often followed after Paplo, for just when he was about to claim the male’s life, he tripped onto the same exact root as well. The chop came down, and rather than landing upon the male’s frame, it landed onto the frosty soil. Between pants and grunts, both shifted within the darkness. The prey incorporated himself rather poorly due to the haste, and Paplo unstuck his weapon, attempting to sweep it sideways at the same time. Misfortune struck again for them both, for the prey fell to his knees once again, and the Mortalborn’s axe swept the air so violently and ineffectively that its inertia sent him to the soil.

A kick landed accidentally upon Paplo’s rear, for his prey violently crawled away. Spinning on his knees, Paplo chased after him on all fours, unwilling to let him get away. He had to impress the female, for he had to earn his wings. Once again, the predator was faster than the prey, and Paplo’s hands soon reached the male’s legs, tugging at him and breaking his balance. Now, he quickly crawled over him, to which his prey rolled over, and his hands attempted to shove Paplo away. It worked – at first. Paplo’s hands wrestled past the obstacles, and his digits found refuge on his prey’s eyelids. There, they pressed with all the strength they could, and the struggling was no more.

Coated in sweat, and panting harshly, Kovic stood up at last, and after finding his axe, he began a quick way towards the camp, where the sudden attack had annihilated any resistance. Within the burning walls, and outside of it, there was no battle anymore, for in a battle there is a direct conflict. Now, the guards were simply executing the remains of what had once been the bane of their comrades, co-workers, and friends.
word count: 1242
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Nightshade Eld
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Steel quickly met with flesh ending the life of yet another archer. Night wasn't the most liberal with her blade, but she understood when what needed to be done needed to be done. A bitter sigh reached up out of her throat as she glanced around herself. What she saw made her heart sink. "For my dear Lady Ethelynda. May these bandits find peace in the next life. Let us be doing the right thing," she muttered to herself quietly in a semi-prayer. She couldn't speak too loudly. Even if it was Ethelynda she gave her praises to Etzos was known to hate any and all immortals and worship of them. They only turned to their aid when times were dire. She made sure to keep as quiet as possible about her worship of her lady around the Etzori. Even if she was starting on a path of praise, fame, and fortune worship of an immortal was frowned upon. So she kept it quietly to herself. She spoke sweetly of the one she thought to be her goddess in quieted tones. Though she would have loved with all her heart to proudly proclaim her devotion to the great immortal of nobility and honor she would have to remain silent. The thought quietly ate at her, in the back of her mind it felt like something of a betrayal to not give praises to her lady openly. At the same time Night was certain her lady would understand. She had been one of the immortals to come to Etzos last season. The memory was fond to her.

She moved forward to see one of the the bandits trying to resist. Many of them were lost in the mayhem of the situation. Those lives which could not move and adapt quickly were snuffed out. However there still were those who reacted quickly with a sharp sort of battle intelligence. She had to give praise where praise was due, these fighters were the ones that were obviously survivors. They had lived through battles prior and only the immortals knew what brought them to take up such an unsavory life of crime. "As much as I would love to call someone as powerful looking as you an ally, it seems you'd rather die with your pride. A foolish thing, but I suppose I can understand. Even if my life hinged on it, I would never bow to someone like you," she said looking the man dead in the eyes. He seemed to smirk and a moment of understanding passed between the two warriors. He knew he wasn't going to live, but he wanted to die with a sword in his hands. Honorable almost in a sick and twisted kind of way.

"May Ethelynda take pity on you because I won't," she said in a sharp voice as she brought her sword up to the ready. The man was another sword wielder like herself, and she had certainly judged him right. It had been a while since she'd come across a foe that could give her a run for her coin. "Come at me if you have the courage you dishonorable swine!" She snapped in a sharp voice. The man happily obliged her running forward. Steel clashed together but the man was just a touch stronger and Night had to swing herself out of the way. She was able to escape without anything too horrible, her armor was scratched but no skin was broken yet. "Is that the best you can do?" She panted with a smile. It was almost invigorating to fight with all of her strength. She wished there was someone in the city she could spar with at her full strength, but no one like that had taken notice of her. Quietly in the back of her thoughts she reminded herself when this battle was over one of them would have to die. Her mood took a slight drop.

Again the man moved to attack her but he used the same strategy. This time she moved her blade upwards in a block and was able to knock away the hit. A strong thrust brought the blade right to the man's neck. He fell backwards but the blade never stopped constantly pressing against his wind pipes. "Any last words?" She questioned him looking down at her fallen foe. Part of her really hoped he would beg for mercy. She didn't want to kill more, there was enough blood on her hands already.

"I'm glad to fall to someone worthy of my life," he said with a twisted smile. Disappointing. She let go of a bitter sigh forcing the blade downwards. There was a gargle and she turned away while the man writhed for a couple more pained moments. She yanked out her blade quickly forcing it through his skull instead. "Sleep," she said quietly and the body which once housed a life grew still.

She turned to the group, "Alright men that seems to be the last of them. It's time to head back!" She called out to the group of fighters. Not a single one was dead, if there were any injuries they were minor. It spoke degrees of the expertise of the small group as well as Night. "And what happened to you?" She questioned turning to Paplo as he reappeared. He didn't seem dead or dying so that was good enough for Night not to worry. He did however look like a disheveled mess by the time he returned. "You still sure you want to become a guard?" She asked. Quietly in her head she was hoping over and over that he would say no. All his efforts seemed to be having the opposite effect on the half avriel. One of the men walked over to Paplo and clapped him on the back.

Night shook her head as the guard who favored her the most once again returned to her side. "Come on, let's head back. If he's really insistent then those two'll give him a rec to the recruiter. Obviously from the look on your face you won't be?" He asked with a smirk. Night shook her head with a bitter sigh.

"I hate it when people who don't belong in a fight go looking for trouble all to impress someone or become a hero. I'm doing this because I was born into this life style. I've always been a fighter and survivor. I wouldn't be alive today if my father didn't teach me how to hold my own. The Master would have kept me like a bird in a cage my entire life! Surely I would be married to Ivan with kids if I didn't kill myself first. But when people who have no place in a fight and are obviously better at talking try to get into the army or the black guard... It disgusts me and upsets me and it makes me want to throw down my sword and give up because one of the reasons I fight is to keep those kinds of people out of fights. It's frustrating beyond the most extreme definition of the word! It's such a powerful and burning kind of anger I feel like I swallowed Faldrun for crying out loud!" The half avriel cried to her companion angrily. A look of disgust quickly cast over both their features at the mention of swallowing Faldrun. "Please... Don't ever let me actually do that," she whimpered looking sick to her stomach.

"Let's just go home," the other guard said with a sympathetic laugh. He seemed to understand what the half avriel meant. The pair quickly caught up with the group. "So Paplo what are you going to be doing after this? We all have to report to our commander and Night has to come with us so that she'll get paid. I'm sure if you're still serious one of us can take you to the recruiter..." the man trailed off while speaking Kovic. Night's sense of fear had been greatly quieted to see that he hadn't caused any immediate trouble, but there was still something unsettling about him that she could place. It wasn't something that should be noticed, but she had always been more bird like than half avriel and that part of her screamed and complained that something was off. It was nearly louder than when it tried to convince her to run away and become wild for a couple years like all avriel. She had quieted it back then by indulging in stories with her father and studying to distract herself. She avoided all things physical in fear she might turn savage. This time the voice just wouldn't shut up! It just kept screeching and begging for her attention, it wanted her to fly far away from this man. She wasn't sure if she should trust it or not. It had been right as many times as it had been wrong.

All she knew is that she wanted to get home faster.
word count: 1538
Common ~ Ith'Ession ~ Lorien
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When Paplo returned within the light of the roaring fires that consumed the killing grounds, he presented the obvious characteristics of every good warrior – the blood of their enemies on himself. His clothing had wet stains of blood upon it, along with some soil and vestiges of vegetation due to blind wrestling performed before the kill. Blood had also splattered upon his features, and his thumbs were entirely coated. His features looked tired and lightly traumatized, which was something not quite acted. Even when he smiled, one could see how unnerved he had been due to whatever events had transpired within the darkness of night. Despite often claiming the life of individuals, he didn’t consider himself a killer. It was a strange discrepancy he had yet to figure out, yet whenever he tried to solve it, his facts and reasoning failed to grant him closure on the matter.

“Ah, I see you folks took care of these ruffians in my absence. Would it be too pathetic to claim that I’m thankful of such?” said Paplo, snickering. A helpful sleeve came to sweep across his features, not quite cleaning every blood remain but, instead, serving to thinly smear it. Still holding on to his axe, Paplo looked around the battlefield, where the bodies waited to gather flies. Just when he was to speak, the Avian’s passive-aggressive speech came afloat. Paplo listened, eyebrows raised, as he analyzed her words.

The first fact he managed to understand was the self-loathing within her, and the self-destructive tendencies she seemed to hold on to. She obviously had a distaste for the fray, yet still made it her profession. She claimed her reasons to be what she was, doing so with illogical pride, which perhaps hinted towards irrational jealousy about her inner turmoil. Names and individuals like the Master and Ivan were mentioned, and despite Paplo being unaware of whom they were, there was clear distaste in the way they were named. In general, Paplo immediately found an appropriate series of brands for the female’s character: self-destructive, socially incompetent, damaged, obstinate and emotional. An easy target for manipulation.
Adapting accordingly, Paplo dropped his axe in anger, and a finger pointed towards the Avian.
“Why don’t you shut your mouth, you? Who do you think you are to tell me where I belong or where I don’t? I’ve done what I’ve done, and that’s on me. I swung the axe and I claimed two lives, and that’s my own fucking problem.” Paplo spat to the side to add emphasis to his anger. “Its people like you that make the business of taking lives so appealing to poor cats like me, you and your damned wings and unmeasured pride. Why don’t you tell us what you eat at night, huh? Why don’t you try sucking on an old piece of bread, hoping it’ll soften up enough for you to swallow it? Well, let me tell you that I’m done sucking on bread, or breaking my back chopping trees to achieve nothing. Even if taking the lives of bastards like these freezes my soul, I’m pretty certain that with a nice stack of coins I’ll buy me blankets warm enough to compensate for it.”

After his little outburst, Paplo turned around and placed his hands on his hips, watching around him whilst he gathered calm. Was his act of desperation good enough? Paplo did seem like the sort of character that had a sad past behind him, thought Kovic, as he tried to satisfy both the character he played and his own whims. He turned around shortly after.
“I’m sorry for this, fellas,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll take the recommendation, but I’ll hold off from joining just yet. I… I need some time to think this through.” Pause. “Can we check the bodies for some coin or something? As far as I know, these bastards owe us a few drinks. I’m ready to head back home whenever you are.”

There wasn’t much more to the situation. It was unlikely the Avian’s bubble could be trespassed, and Kovic’s character was unlikely to seek further interaction with her after her bitter speech. It seemed that he’d have to take matters into his own hands, and what could’ve been a nice approach towards studying her winged physique would have to be more forceful and less graceful. Perhaps the idea of smacking her across the head into unconsciousness would have to be seriously considered.
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The half breed just watched him quietly. He had no clue what he was talking about, no clue who he was speaking too. He'd managed to interpret her character wrong. Her eyes narrowed as he yelled at her. The suffering she went through within the small span of her years was more than this piece of trash seemed to give her credit to. Instantly her demeanor became less defensive, but she kept that internal. Instead she wore an passive and rather blank expression. She didn't allowed emotion to cross her features and instead turned her head away with a small shake and a sigh after the man had turned away from her. "Watch him," she leaned towards her companion in the quietest whisper she could muster while still allowing him to hear. The distrust had only become more potent and Kovic had only made his job all the harder.

He could come at her and attempt to knock her own, but the encounter wouldn't go the way he was hoping. That was certain enough! "I'm going to fly back, I've got other things I need to get done today," she said. She beat her wings until she was high enough in the air to easily glide on the wind currents. She swooped towards Etzos trying to find the man that was going to be paying her for her efforts. Thoughts of the Paplo came back to her as the wind cried out in her ears. There was a certain degree of sadness that came with such declarations as he had made. The sadness however came from the fact she knew some people lived in situations he had described. She knew the truth of those situations because she had lived in them. But she still couldn't accept the fact that turning to fighting was the right thing to do! She shook her head trying to banish the thoughts but they persisted. She had only turned to fighting because it was what she honestly had to do. So many times in her past there were people precious to her that died or would of died if she didn't know how to fight. Then there were other people who didn't need to learn how to fight, people who had other skills they could use.

These people could come in two different breeds, or three when she counted those like herself. There were those who showed too much laziness to do other jobs. Paplo saying he didn't want to cut down trees any longer came to mind. Manual labor became too hard, too annoying, so they turned to the blade thinking the life would be easier or they would get paid better. These were usually the kind of people who would die first in a battle, and their assumptions on pay and work load were never correct. The second were those who didn't have any other skills and think they can only fight. Those were the kind of people who were bound to survive longer in a battle and work for their living. Night semi considered herself to be part of this group, but at the same time she didn't. She knew there were plenty of jobs she could do that were easier and safer than risking her neck fighting day in and day out. She was noble raised and as such she had been blessed with knowledge and skill many others didn't have. She couldn't consider herself part of this group because this group consisted of those who honestly had nothing else to do and no money to learn a better trade. After all not only does learning take time but staying alive long enough to learn also took a pretty penny out of a coin pouch. The third group Night belonged to and she had meet very few others like her.

Paplo seemingly belonged to the first but she wasn't going to cast judgement with so little interaction. Hopefully they wouldn't have to interact again. He wasn't fond of her by the end of the fight so it didn't seem likely they would meet again. That was fine with her. He gave her a rotten feeling in the pit of her stomach anyway. The little voice had slowly begun to quiet the farther away they got from the man. She landed gracefully and tried to focus on he act of dancing for the man who hired her so that she could get paid properly. She could still remember seasons of getting paid less than she could and should of thanks to her avriel half, but slowly they had faded with her growing fame and ability to 'argue'.
word count: 792
Common ~ Ith'Ession ~ Lorien
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