Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

Elyna had been so flustered that she realised, too late, that she had forgotten to apologise. The Ithecal had turned towards her and seemed just as uncomfortable. The words caught in her throat and her cheeks started to burn red. He made a generous attempt at a joke and she stumbled over her own mumbled apology, “I walked into you, I’m so sorry,” they tumbled out in a rush and she resisted the urge to hang her head. She was supposed to be a Captain for the sake of Qylios. Not some shy foot soldier. She wasn’t a green amateur and yet, the sight of the Ithecal had reduced her legs to jelly and stolen the sound from her tongue. Fear did terrible things and the skyrider felt the bite of frustration.

The handsome young man approach before she could make even more of a disaster of the situation and she pressed a cold hand to her heated cheek. Her gaze moved over the man quickly, and after spying the freshly affixed wings on his jacket her smile was quick to return. She’d been right, he was a skyrider. Tall and strong, she found herself wondering if he’d settled on a unit to train and fly with. He was obviously keen to see battle and gain experience, otherwise why would he have left the city and training grounds behind?

“A pleasure,” she gave a quick response, polite as she finally took in the young beauty who stood close beside the skyrider. Curious, she thought but the pair vanished before she could send any enquiries after them. Atashi? She turned to the Ithecal, waving her hands quickly. The lump remained in her throat but it was easier to manage her irrational fear if she kept her gaze on his face, “not at all, Ser, the error was all mine,” she apologised as best she could before he too, seemed to flee from her.

The woman hesitated, rocking on her heels for a moment before she followed the slowly gathering crowd. Malcolm wasn’t the only combatant preparing to train and exercise before night drew too close. The skyrider slipped through the various pools of men and woman as they stretched and drew sparring weapons and sharps as well. Her attention focused, along with many other spectators on the Warden however. It had been too long since they’d sparred together. The woman rolled her shoulders back beneath her leather jacket. The first bought complete and she tilted her head to one side. It wasn’t like Malcolm to wield two weapons and she wondered where his shield was.

The skyrider stepped forward with the Ithecal and made their attack. The woman found herself smirking a little, a tricky move to counter she wondered if Malcolm might have over estimated his defence…but they were both relatively young men…was an Ithecal technically a man? Her mind wandered until a third youth strode forward from beside her. Senses snapped to alert the skyrider didn’t hesitate, her hand snapped out, curled around the thick fabric of the man’s billowed cloak and she yanked it, hard. She wasn’t about to dive in and ‘rescue’ Malcolm. Confident that the Warden could defend himself against a hot-headed pair of youths. But to interrupt broke the code. This was a sparring bought, no one was actually trying to hurt anyone else and the young man whose clothing she’d so mercilessly taken hold of, had been burning with energy.

Her intention was to stay his step, pull him off balance or force him to pause in his attack. Hopefully to give him a chance to re-think his actions. If she was successful in pulling him back, like a puppy, by the scruff of his neck, he’d meet the gaze of a pair of curious brown eyes as she raised a brow in silent question.

It was a cunning little tactic that even Malcolm could appreciate. The two men circled him, causing the warden to raise his swords, arms outstretched so that one pointed at Kylar, and the other was turned in Atashi’s direction. Of the two, Kylar was the closest, and made his move first. Malcolm was quick to block and swing the second sword at the sergeant in a light counter attack. He hadn't anticipated what came next. As Malcolm twisted away from his successful block against Kylar, he was thrown forward onto his knees by Atashi, straight into the path of Sin’s blade. The point of the blade hissed against the plate armour the warden wore, scratching the shined metal up the length of the breastplate to catch against the small lip just in front of his neck.
Malcolm stared wide-eyed at the blue man, following the length of the blade to the hand that gripped it, and further beyond to find that Elyna had held the squire back just enough to keep the man’s weapon from cutting him a new mouth. The warden maneuvered his longsword to disarm the squire, before he felt Kylar, or had it been Atashi, help him to his feet. Malcolm looked down at the scratch on his armour, and wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve, just one more scratch to add to the many. The knight nodded his thanks to Elyna, and turned about to engage Kylar and Atashi once more, though this time he would not allow them to circle him.
The sparring match caused the warden to work up a sweat, and by the time he was starting to feel worn out, distraction presented itself in the form of Benjamin, returned with the decoded letter no doubt. The captain had a sullen look about him, and Malcolm excused himself, bidding Kylar and Atashi to continue without him. “Good match,” he encouraged, and stepped away to the edge of the field where Benjamin had waited.
Malcolm sheathed his weapons and from a distance, he appeared to slow down, shrinking back away from Benjamin as he shook his head. The captain reached out to the warden and held up the letter, pointing to it before his gaze sought out Murphy’s camp.

“You’re sure?” Malcolm asked as Ben led him towards the edge of the woods.
“Positive,” the captain replied. “These symbols right here, that is your name in the Rakahi language.”
“Then they know I lead our forces.”
“It seems so.”
Benjamin marched into Murphy’s camp and demanded to see the slain scout. “He's over there,” one of Murphy's men pointed. “We cleaned him up just like you asked, ser,” the man directed his reply at Malcolm.
“Where are his belongings?” Benjamin barked.
“Over there, we haven't touched a thing, I swear.”
“We believe you,” Malcolm assured the man, “thank you for doing as I asked.”
The warden walked over to the scouts things and dug through them to find the coin purse just as the note had instructed, stating that there was a ‘gift for Malcolm Krome inside’. With some hesitation, Malcolm pulled the thin leather straps of the coin purse open and looked down at the ‘gift’.
“A finger?” Benjamin looked confused.
Malcolm reached in and lifted the finger from the pouch, turning it about between finger and thumb as he examined the gold ring and small, blue stone embedded within the soft metal. Malcolm lowered his hand and closed his eyes, going to one knee.
“Malcolm?” Benjamin’s brow furrowed.
“Tell the men I won't be joining them for a meal,” he murmured.
“What does it mean?”
The warden put the finger back inside the pouch after taking the ring, and left the camp with both pieces. “It means I'll bloody kill ‘em!” he growled, “that's what it means!”
Benjamin turned to Murphy’s man and asked him to relay the warden’s message that he would not be joining them for a meal, and followed after his friend, headed in the direction of the village.

Note: This is my final post for this thread. I will post it for review on Monday. Cheers to everyone who joined! The next thread will be up by Wednesday hopefully! I won't be here all weekend, and I got some very long days at work ahead of me, so responses and replies will slow right down. My apologies in advance.

It appeared that her wild grab at the cloak had done just enough. Her heart was pounding somewhere in the region of her ears. As expected, the young man wheeled to face her and seemed surprised to have to look so far down. Elyna however, was used to looking up at most of the world. Everyone, even Faith was taller than she was and it had always been so. She saw Malcolm’s nod, her eyes meeting his for the briefest moment over the Gawyne Squire’s shoulder. A shadow moved from the corner of her eye and she spotted Faith stepping closer, sword levelled across her palms.

The skyrider had gotten herself involved, and even as the sparring match continued behind the Squire, she felt as though the rest of the spectators were holding their breath. Waiting to see what she’d do next. The young woman let out a lungful of air, if only she knew! He’d asked a question however, and she levelled her gaze with his, “you were about to intervene in a sparring match, without invitation. I thought that I would join you,” she explained, voice light and almost jovial.

The young woman twisted and offered a smile to Faith, collecting the sword from her hands with care, “thank you, Faith” she nodded and turned it in her own grip, presenting it back to the young man before her, hilt first. “It’s a good weapon,” she could feel the balance of it on her palms. Once the Squire had accepted his longsword she beckoned for him to follow, a command more than a question before she made her way out, through the crowds. Grateful that for once her fellow comrades parted before her. It seemed that they recognised her station, as the Squire himself had. She hoped that he would follow, away from the gathered group. She also sent a silent prayer to Pre that her faith in him was not unfounded and he wouldn’t simply take the opportunity to slide the sharp blade between her shoulder blades as she walked.

Away. They needed to be away from the group. The Captain was new to her role, but she’d never been one for public shame; having experienced too much of it herself.