Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

Darcyanna laughed as she tucked herself close against the Gawyne, enjoying the carriage ride home with a simple delight and leveraging his ability to be a living heater. It was just past dusk on the fifty first, their second trial in the carriage and closer to Andaris than Venora at this stage. They would be home by the morning, all full of wonderful memories of dancing and music and private delights.

“...and did I tell you Malero wants to tutor me? I have to go home once every ten trial but that’s fine. It’s Master Malero!” She probably had told him already, many times over, but the excitement was still fresh in the pianists mind. Leaning her head against his shoulder, the blonde sighed softly, looking out the window as the darkening countryside bounced by.

It happened so suddenly, so jarringly unexpectedly that the Venora nearly fell face first into the other seat, reaching out with both hands to stop herself. There was a sound, a screeching grating sort of roar and the carriage came to a hard shuddering stop, followed by squeals of terrified horses and the yell of their driver disappearing strangely into the dusk. Silence then, save for the snorting of the horses and the breathing of the two occupants.

The thick sound of leathery wings rose from the front of the carriage, before a heavy crunch of something landing. Something large. Boots then, jumping down and standing in the frosty path before the small contained transport.

“Hello? Everyone still awake in there?” An almost polite, pleasant female voice called out, sounding for all the world like the friendliest of people checking everyone was really ok.

Darcyanna’s fingers gripped the leather seat with white knuckles, and her breathing sped up rapidly. Scrambling back to sit beside Caius, she grabbed his arm hard, looking at the diri with wild bright blue eyes. Her face, if possible, was drained from all color and she raised a trembling finger to her own lips shush him before he could speak.

It couldn’t be.

“Come on now, I know you’re in there. No point trying to hide. Step out, come and say hello Lord Gawyne. We really should get to know one another. After all, you have been fucking my sister.” A soft chuckle came from the stranger, as though she’d told the most wonderful joke. The blonde Venora shook her head violently, silently begging Caius not to leave the carriage, shaking in terror. A moment passed, before the woman outside sighed.

“Darce, you’re not telling naughty stories about me are you? That would be most inappropriate and not at all ladylike.” One of the horses squealed again, and the carriage rocked heavily, causing the pianist to yelp in shock. Outside, the youngest of the Venora’s laughed again.

“My patience is wearing thin guys. Look, I already saw Oli today and he’s still alive. Well, he was when I left. I promise I won’t kill your driver if you get out, how’s that? You have till the count of three.” From somewhere in the dusky half dark, the mousy haired coachman made a muffled sound of pain and something growled deep in a thick barrel chest.

“That’s one.”

"You know that means you'll be traveling or gone four to five trials out of ten." Caius grumbled childishly, still smiling at her excitement as they curled together in the carriage, more than willing to keep the delicate pianist warm. He understood the amazing opportunity learning from a master like Malero provided Darcyanna, but the idea of spending so much time apart still tugged at the more selfish, possessive parts of his feelings for her. At least she'd be in Bellesoir and with Oliver, he comforted himself, "You'll just have to coordinate your time at home with my days off of the Gazette—"

The sound from outside was more than enough to cut his words short, forced to shove a foot against the seat opposite to keep himself steady as the carriage came to a rough halt. The young Gawyne hissed, slipping his arm from around Darcy with his heart caught against the back of his throat. For a moment, there was only the panicked sound of horses, but hot melted metal seared through his veins at the noises that followed. It was the voice, however, the voice that needed no formal introduction, that stopped his fiery heart and forced him to hold his breath.

Pythera.

Caius' expression hardened and he swallowed the initial rush of pure fear that clawed down his spine when the blonde Venora next to him gripped him tightly. He was not prepared for this. He was far from capable of defending her against the Valkyr. Not now. Not yet. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to try. Tilting his head to her, he moved to pry her fingers from his arm, irises pale like frosted steel. Lips curled into a sneer at the monster outside's next words and he exhaled slowly, anger and protectiveness flooding his senses when the woman had the nerve to speak his name.

She knew far too much, and his heart sank in the form of his chest like so much cast off lead.

"You will not give her the satisfaction of seeing your face." He leaned forward to whisper furtively in Darcy's ear, feeling the terror of her body. He pressed warm lips against her forehead and reached above her delicately, carefully grabbing his saber in its sheath above their heads. He held her gaze, his other hand brushing her face before he leaned back, drawing his weapon without subterfuge, "This isn't the moment I imagined—"

Pythera said Oliver's name and the northern noble's knuckles whitened on the hilt of his blade. By the Fates if she'd hurt the man, he wasn't sure what he'd do with himself. She was counting and his pulse roared in his ears,

"—but I love you, Darcyanna Venora." Caius whispered without hesitation, a mix of emotions churning in his gaze, but then he blinked and his voice was firm, "Stay here. Please."

Weapon drawn and glinting in the last of the sun, the young Gawyne ignored the roaring heat of terror in his chest to step out into the chill of Zi'da, finally taking in the woman who'd terrified the delicate pianist he truthfully cared so much about for himself. She'd been a monster in stories told in the dark until now, and, in all honesty, the northern noble wished he'd been more impressed. Younger, smaller-framed, if he hadn't known better, he would have already made the grave mistake of underestimating Pythera Venora. This woman was the youngest of the Bellesoir Venoras and yet had managed to keep Darcyanna under her thumb for her whole life. From the sounds of things, she'd gone and attacked Oliver, too. And gotten away with it? He couldn't let his concern eat at him, he couldn't let his fear distract him, but he also couldn't let his anger consume him. Her winged mount rumbled a growl from behind her and the wickedness that haunted the young woman's features wasn't anything to ignore, but he fought to stay focused.

Butcher of Warrick. Valkyr. Torturer. Stalker. Idiot.

Drawing himself up to his full height, Caius' face twisted into a defiant sneer, letting the heat that clawed at his veins fuel the vitriol in his words,

"What a Fates-be-damned mistake you've made to make yourself known to-trial! Fucking stupid, bloodthirsty beast, how foolish to let me, of all people, know that you're making a show of yourself in Andaris, in Venora, in anywhere across Rynmere. You say my name with vulgar intentions, but do you even know who I am? Do you even know what's happening in the kingdom around you? Clearly you're too busy feeding your inadequacies with blood and mayhem, but I come with fire." It was by pure luck and wordless prayers to the Seven that the northern noble kept his voice from shaking, saber leveled at the woman before him and every word summoned from his deep sense of protectiveness for Darcy. His threats weren't entirely empty, but perhaps foolishly unfounded. He had yet to test the full extent of his authority under the Lord Inquisitor, but for the terrified, tortured woman who held his heart, he would sarding well find out,

"Perhaps you've kept yourself hidden this long, but now that I know your face, now that I know you're within my reach, I'll have you and the rest of your fucking pathetic bandits declared a sleeper cell of mages the moment I step foot back in Andaris."

He had no idea if any of them were mages, but it didn't matter. The threat was enough, and the resources that had been shoved into his unwilling hands were like rabid dogs kept in cages, eager to be set free. Caius tightened his grip on his saber, quite sure that he would reveal himself sorely inadequate if Pythera chose to attack him, quite sure she'd make short work of him no matter how much of a fight he'd give her before she did so,

"I've told myself I'd never take pleasure in watching anyone burn, but for you? I'd set the torch myself. Now fuck off."

“No, no no no…” Darcyanna hissed in terrified panic, closing her eyes with a whimper as the Gawyne kissed her forehead. She knew what he was reaching for, and desperately her hands brushed his arm again, clinging gently to the material of his shirt as though she would hold him there.

“Caius no, you can’t you—“

Look, I already saw Oli today and he’s still alive. Well, he was when I left.

The blonde pianists heart sank and she felt sick to her stomach. Fates, Thera had got Oliver? The pale sister took a deep breath, shuddering with a sensation of cold dread up her spine. Just what had the sadistic creature done to their brother, what exactly did still alive really mean. Pulled from her horrified thoughts, Darcyanna blinked at looked into the Gawyne lords face.

—but I love you, Darcyanna Venora.

“What?” She whispered in shock, fingers slipping from his shirt whilst still processing his words as Caius stepped from the carriage. Gasping, she grabbed for him, but it was too late.

What if it was too late to tell him now that she loved him in return?

Pythera stood in the centre of the path, hands resting on the hilts of her daggers, a dried smear of blood across one cheek and coatless in the chill dusk air. Her attire was that of a Skyrider, leather armour protecting her torso and legs, and yet in some strange act of defiance her arms and throat left bare. Her grin was one of utter delight, clearly happy that the nobleman had decided to step up. Behind her, the volareon screeched at him, a grating sound that bared fangs and wide maw to the man, their coachman grasped firmly in its wicked talons. The horses whinnied, ears flat to their heads and eyes rolling with fear, wanting to gallop from the scent of death but their path forward blocked by the beast.

“Ah there you are. Lucky…I wasn’t sure I was really going to make it to three. Volareon, awfully unpredictable you see.” Looking around the diri with a sort of curious face, the Venora made a sound of disappointment.

“What, no Darce? Well that’s just so utterly noble of you.” Raising her voice, the woman called out with a smile.

“Sister dear, you can’t hide in there forever. Come and give me a hug?”

She listened patiently as the north man made his speech, smile condescending and nodding as though listening to a child tell what they believed was an amazing tale. Her tongue snaked out to press to her lip, sizing up the Gawyne as she did so.

“Ooh fire? I don’t think I’ve had to worry about fire before? Sounds fun.” Continuing to allow the man his moment in the dying sun, Pythera chuckled and raised both eyebrows at the threat on the VII.

“Us, mages? Caius please, you flatter us. I cannot wait to tell Vishal, she’ll be thrilled. I wonder if our bounty will go up.” It was clear the last comment was not directed at the tall diri, instead an internal thought on the outside. Looking at the sabre levelled at her, the Butcher tilted her head with a gleam in her cracked bright blue and magenta gaze.

“Aww bless, look at you! Is that yours? It’s adorable. I bet you’re getting really good with it now huh? I mean, after those thugs in the alleyway, you surely must have put some more practice in.” Her eyes caught his again, breathing rapidly with excitement.

“It felt good, didn’t it my Lord? Your blade slicing through his flesh. Did it get you going? I bet it did. I bet you wanted to take her there and then, against that wall, all hot and bothered and…well…I know what I would have done. It wouldn’t have been to leave you wanting on my staircase.” Streaks of lilac shattered her iris’, bleeding slowly across her eyes with some sort of sick passion. As the diri continued to threaten her, Pythera sighed with what could have sounded like regret, drawing her daggers with a chuckle.

“Fuck off? Oh, that’s a bit mean Caius. Did you hear that Darcy, loverboy wants me to fuck off. But we know that won’t be happening right? Right. Yes. It’s a shame too, I mean, you are so dreadfully pretty. Has anyone told you that before?” Shifting her feet into a defensive position, the younger Venora turned her wicked smile on the Gawyne.

“You know, we could probably be great together you and I. I bet I could give you far more excitement then the little dormouse in that carriage. How about it my Lord? Wanna give it a whirl?” She raised an eyebrow, biting her lower lip in what could have been a seductive way, was she not insane.

Within the carriage, Darcyanna sat curled on the seat, hands over her ears and breathing hard. She could barely breathe from fear, and Caius had told her to stay. Asked her to stay. Regardless of Pythera’s taunting, the pianist knew she was not safe outside.

Did the woman know she’d told? Was that why she was here?

Seven, what had she done.

Caius held his ground, but by the Seven if he'd never been so terrified in his life. The trickle of Ziell's lineage that flowed in his existence only allowed him a vision of his natural death, but any trial, any moment, he could meet an unexpected, unnatural end and never know it. To-trial suddenly felt achingly like that kind of a trial. Clenching his jaw, shoulders set, the young Gawyne did his best to not only represent his birthright as a noble but to stand up for the young woman he'd just very hastily admitted that he loved. It was sarding sorry timing, and he really could have done it all better, especially if he only got to say it once. But he said it and he meant it and he would say it again provided he lived,

"All it will take is the mere suspicion of magic, the whisper of the word in the ear of those who listen to me, and every last one of you will be hunted down like the vermin you are. To whisper the name Venora along with it? Well, you know what a sarding mess the rest of your House is."

For Fate's sake, the woman could talk! He hissed a riposte at her belittling, but her knowledge of the night he'd met Darcy was nearly the last straw in his tenuous hold on attempting to stay calm. A heat crawled up the back of his neck and seared through his veins, roaring with his pulse, and he wondered if this was how Hunter felt all those arcs ago. Was this the kind of rage that fueled his brother when Ivy had disappeared? Was this the fire that drove the older boy to hate his parents? Were these the unquenchable emotions that dragged him into mad pursuit of the bastards that took her? He'd seen his brother after his failure. He knew the look of defeat. He'd felt the self-hatred. The loathing. He knew the taste of bitterness. But this, this was different.

And it was disgusting.

Exhaling a cloud of steamy breath, Caius sought to take control of the roaring flames within the cavity of his chest. There were no answers worthy of the woman before him, no sarcastic retort would wound her, no angry tirade returned in her direction would have meaning in her meaningless, cruel life. And so he was desperate for silence. He sought to tame his anger and his words with his will lest he become a thoughtless beast, her taunting clawing under his skin even as she shifted her stance and drew two daggers.

Sard it all.

She'd been stalking Darcyanna this whole time? For the woman's whole life? She'd watched her older sister far too often. She'd even seen when they met? Surely, then, she knew all the delicate pianist had told him. Surely, then, it was all of his fault for drawing it out of her, for putting her in danger by telling Oliver everything. He'd even put Oliver in danger. To what end was all of the stalking? For what purpose was this stupid game? Why not have killed them all arcs ago?

What a ridiculously insane thing to do—

Ah, but she was insane.

That was his advantage, tenuous but true.

Her ramblings gave him a name—Vishal. Her ramblings let him know that Pythera Venora stalked Andaris with other bandits, with other members of VII. She stalked her homelands. She was not far off raiding Khrome, but she stuck close to home. She revealed far too much of herself in her pompous bragging and relentless insults, and the young Gawyne let his sneer become a wry grin. She was full of herself, took far too much sadistic pleasure in her actions, and was far too confident in her prowess. The northern noble committed to memory the weaknesses he perceived along with the woman's face.

"You fucking talk to much, and that means something, coming from me." Caius growled, aware now that he had no choice but to use the weapon in his hand against an opponent who was surely his superior. The difference was, in his mind, he had his wits about him when she had none, "There is nothing in all of Idalos that you could do for me, other than die slowly, preferably in more silence than you've ever experienced in your short, mad existence."

Or, perhaps, just to the delicate notes of Meruda's Fifth.

Silvery gaze took in her footing, her grip on her daggers, her body's confidence. There was little he could do but keep up, and he knew it. Reach he had, but speed and experience he did not. Caius had been told once as a youth that he relied too much on the theories and exercises so clearly outlined in the books that he studied, that the art of combat and swordplay was much more than head knowledge. Ser Elias had told him he had to think for himself, to trust his gut, to follow his heart. As a youth, it had sarding well pissed him off.

Now, however, he understood, but that didn't mean he could do such sentiment justice.

The young Gawyne shifted his stance in the snow, the cold under his feet familiar and comfortable. He wasn't about to give Pythera Venora her opportunity to strike first, so he waded in without another word, seeking to use his advantage of a longer weapon to get a good swing in at a wrist or a hand to level their playing field. His weapon was single-edged, swift, but had a decent hilt to protect him from being disarmed. Would he bleed a little? Probably. If the Volareon didn't eat him first.

The smile on the Gawyne’s face caused Pythera to grin in return, delighted to see someone enjoying the game as much as she. He insulted her, wished her death, called her mad. It wasn’t anything new, and the blonde made a small bow of thanks, embracing his words. Many had called her out before, plenty had insulted her.

None had come out the other side alive however.

“Yes yes my Lord, I have been told I talk to much before but...where is the fun in a silent death. May as well have a chat whilst we—haha!” She laughed with a loud start, jumping back and lifting her arms as the sabre swung at her hands, looking utterly manic with joy.

“Right to it then! Okay Caius, okay.” Moving with speed, the youngest Venora attacked, spinning to swipe at his torso and parrying on the upward sweep. Her style was quick, and yet not fatal, as though she was toying with the nobleman. Blades bit into flesh with shallow cuts, aimed at arms or legs, back or torso. This wasn’t to say the Gawyne wasn’t holding his own in some ways. As the man defended and attacked, he would find that his own sword left it’s mark a few times, once being a particularly good lashing across her upper bicep.

“That’s it Gawyne, that’s the way.” Her words were panted with laboured breaths, but not in effort. If the diri was listening, he would have found them similar to the sounds that the pianist made when they were alone and intimate. Thera enjoyed this.

From the carriage, Darcy had crept to the doorway, heeled boots crunching quietly on the frozen ground. Hiding beside the coach, her wide blue eyes watched with horror as the Snow and the Rose danced in battle. The pale musician gasped, heart in her throat as Pythera managed to parry another sword swing and slash a deep gash across the Gawyne’s shoulder and down his chest. Bright red immediately began to bloom on his shirt.

Do something. She’s going to kill him.

Back in the fight, the crazed Venora suddenly switched tactic to rush forward, crossing blades to block his sword and shove it upwards above his head locking with the hilt to come face to face with Caius. Her eyes were a vivid bright blue and her face a mask of unhinged delight. Teeth grit through her smile, the Butcher continued to shove forwards and curled a foot behind his legs to trip the northerner onto his back. She followed through, coming down onto one knee and holding his sword arm down over his head, clearly shifting her right dagger ready to plunge it down into his chest.

“No Thera! No don’t!” Darcyanna screamed, causing the wild eyed Venora to snap her head up with an evil grin, sitting back on his thighs as the pianist ran towards the fighters to throw herself in the dirt beside her lover, trembling hands up in defence and surrender.

The sun had set now, and for a moment, there was silence. Silence save for the panting of the three nobles on the cold rocky road.

“Darcyanna.” Pythera purred, her voice like liquid venom.

By the Seven, Pythera proved herself beyond the young Gawyne's expectations when it came to her level of distance from the realm of the sane. To say that he was afraid quickly became an understatement, and yet he was also determined, not to bring vengeance but to protect the young woman who had indeed caught more than just his attention but also his heart. The beast of a woman who claimed to be Darcyanna's sister was not going to lay another hand on her as long as he could help it, though he was afraid he'd die to do so.

Caius was forced to stretch far beyond his experience in combat. The former Skyrider turned bandit wielded her two daggers with a level of skill that far surpassed the northern noble's with his saber, but she was also just toying with him. This was her going easy on him for her own entertainment. He kept his mouth shut, unwilling to fuel her twisted enjoyment with more words, though he hissed and growled as she managed to get past his desperate defenses. Parrying two weapons was difficult, forced to stay mostly within mid-guard range, under-handed with simple flicks of his wrist to bring the weight of the saber to bear against the fierceness of the Valkyr's attacks. While her strength wasn't necessarily at all superior, her training made up for his muscle.

The young Gawyne grit his teeth and did what he could to keep his wits about him, choosing to use his free hand to grab and block with instead of letting it sit with confidence at his hip, for he had little confidence once she'd bloodied him first. It was mostly his unarmed wrist that her second dagger found purchase against, quick slice after quick slice as he attempted to gain bodily purchase over her when she slashed at him. Still, he'd snuck a few nicks in, perhaps more by pure chance with an over-handed swing or a quick recovery from a low-guard block, steel against steel. He began to mirror her footwork and watch her body position, falling into a rhythm of observance and patience despite the fear that gnawed at the back of his thoughts, that stung where she'd cut him. With each misstep and parry, it became abundantly clear that Caius was outmatched and his only hope was for her to become over confident, for her to make a bigger mistake.

All he had left in his arsenal was to lie.

So he began to feint.

His swings became weaker, his steps slower, and he took the only risk left: he let the monster in. It hurt, and he suffered for it with more dagger nicks, but the northern noble felt as though he had no choice. He let her have her way with him, just barely keeping the real harm to his person at bay until she leapt at him, his feint too slow and his parry not enough, one of her daggers slipping past the superior reach of his blade and digging into his shoulder, raking down his chest.

He gurgled in anger and dug in his footing in the snow, terror stinging his eyes more than the pain, which was by far more than he'd experienced in his well-padded noble life. Not expecting her rush, she caught his saber in her crossed daggers, guards tangling the curve of his weapon and then she pushed forward, stepping in far closer than he ever wanted to be to the crazed woman. He attempted to step back, struggling to untangle himself from her vicinity but her foot slipped behind him brought them both to the ground. Face twisting into a defiant sneer, he attempted to struggle beneath her, free hand just barely managing to stop her downward stab, eyes on the dagger that was leveled for his chest—

"Darcy, no! For Fate's sake!" Caius groaned, a surge of protective anger burning through his veins. Hot lead filled the cavity of his chest and as Pythera turned to look at her sobbing, surrendering sister, the young Gawyne seized his chance. He'd wrestled his brothers enough to know that it was not an issue of weight so much as leverage, and so as he twisted his hips beneath the woman who sat on his thighs in a motion that wasn't unfamiliar, he attempted to move from the advantage of his core instead of simply attempting to overpower her. The rough, quick movement freed his sword arm, tugging his body away from her as he sought just a bit of room for himself, just enough room to bring the steel pommel of his saber crashing into her face.

Not once. Not twice. But however many swings with the hard, metal end of his weapon he could get in between ragged breaths, his unarmed hand moving to immobilize whichever wrist of hers he could get a grip on, desperate to move his body so he could restrain her while purposefully putting his whole self between Pythera and Darcyanna, and if he couldn't, he was willing to risk a dagger in the ribs to do so. Whichever happened first, or when neither happened more likely, he hissed his words while shifting his grip on his saber to make sure he found a good place to stick it if another blade pierced his skin,

"You don't have any right to talk to her, relation or not." Dizzy, it was all he could do to keep himself from shaking, warily eying the volareon and their carriage driver, aware that he would have to make a trade, that if Pythera didn't butcher all three of them, she would still be getting away. He would have to lose her, blood seeping through his clothes. Caius suddenly felt cold, and he was only pretending to have any advantage or authority, breath coming in ragged clouds,

"Now, fuck off. I'll count to three if you like."

He was totally bluffing.

Darcyanna. Darcy. Darce.

The youngest sister felt captivated by the sight before her, after so long stalking the older sickly pale Venora, it felt almost prophetic to be able to talk to her again face to face. The power of knowing that even now, even here Darcyanna was still under her thumb was...Fates it was euphoric. Was this how the pianist felt when she consumed all those things that got her through the trials? No wonder she was addicted.

Pythera look a breath, readying herself to speak to the blonde after so many arcs, when all of a sudden the Gawyne had shifted in her distracted state. The Valkyr turned to look down when she was met with the hard pommel of his saber right across the bridge of her already broken nose. And again, even as she raised her arm to protect herself across the cheekbone, and for the final time against her upper lip as the Venora threw herself away from him.

“You cocksucking piece of horseshi—“ From beyond the bloodied woman a screeching filled the air as the dusky black Volareon tossed their coachman aside like a rag doll and lept to his mistresses aid. Hissing, the large beast snapped at Caius and Darcy as Pythera found her feet. Shaking her head, the blonde reset her nose again, crying out in pain and growling as she thumbed a nasty gash across the bridge. It was already swollen, now it would be huge. Her upper lip was quickly swelling too, a split gracing it where her tongue felt gingerly. Turning swiftly, eyes an abyss of rage, she appeared from around the protective Volareon and glared at the Gawyne.

“What the fuck is with you and Oliver and faces?! Like seriously. Darce, did I ever...oh haha, I did. Nevermind.” She said through a thickly nasal voice, snorting deeply before spitting a glob of blood and mucus on the bitterly cold rocky ground. Blinking a few times, she chuckled at the northerner, ignoring his hollow threat.

“You seem rather protective of my sister there Caius. Has she told you something, perhaps? Maybe something she was definitely told not to tell?” Black eyes turned on the blonde cowering in the dirt beside her lover, eyes almost white with fear. Her heart wanted to stop in her chest, she was so terrified. The Butcher sucked blood from her teeth where it stained them russet, raising an eyebrow, daggers still in hand.

“Did you tell him Darce? I suppose, you had to explain those disgusting marks, I mean that must have been a real talking point!” Laughing, she leaned against the growling Volareon and pointed a blade at the pianist.

“What did I tell you, sister? Hrm? I was pretty sure I was rather specific about what I’d do if you told anyone.” Darcyanna wept, trembling as she held her hands up, afraid to move.

“I...I...I...” Pythera mimicked her, pushing off the beast and taking a threatening step closer to the woman.

“I...I...I don’t fucking care what you have to say. I thought we’d shared something special you and I. Girl things, just between us. Guess not. Taddle tale.” She pouted, before sheathing the blades with a theatrical sigh.

“I suppose that’s that then.” The blonde bandit said in a matter-of-fact tone, moving to mount the Volareon and looking down at the two nobles in the snow flurried road. She smiled slowly at Caius, a wicked and unhinged thing, a demons grin in the dark.

“Next time you see me, it’ll be whilst you’re looking for her cold lifeless body.” Turning the grin on Darcyanna, she laughed.

“And you well...it’ll be when you least expect me. Say your goodbyes Darcyanna, I’ll give you time sister. Then, I’m coming to find you. I made you a promise, and I don’t break my word.” Kicking her heels and tugging on the reigns, she drove her beast into the sky, large leathery wings taking her higher and further away until she disappeared over the crest of a ridge.

And like that, Pythera Venora was gone.

This was such an intense thread, knowing that this turned into a reveal to Thera. I wasn’t expecting it to go that way but it did, and as always your writing is superb. I love the way you write in small movements and facial expressions, I think these are what sell your characters so strongly. Make them feel so tangibly real. I look forward to see what Caius is going to do now he’s come face to face with the crazy Bellesoir Venora sister.

Points:
15/15 XP

Skills:
Intimidation: Laying on the threats to scare your foe
Intimidation: Using your position of power to its full advantage
Intimidation: Turning your foes words against them
Deception: Showing confidence to avoid giving your foe the upper hand
Deception: Hollow threats don’t bank cheques
Deception: Taking advantage of your foe’s distractions
Blades (Saber): How to parry a dagger attack
Blades (Saber): Slashing at your opponents wrists to try and disarm
Blades (Saber): Guarding and counterattacking
Blades (Saber): Using the pommel as well as the blade
Strength: BAM! Right in the face!
Strength: Getting a hand free from being pinned
Discipline: Repressing your fear
Discipline: Taking control of a situation even when you’re loosing
Detection: Paying attention to clues in your foes monologue

Non-Skill:
Pythera Venora: Is not mentally stable
Pythera Venora: Has an unhealthy obsession with Darcyanna
Pythera Venora: Can fight with daggers
Pythera Venora: You made the first move on her
Pythera Venora: Seems to physically enjoy fighting
Pythera Venora: Has a foul mouth with no filter
Pythera Venora: Is easy to get talking, hard to shut up
Pythera Venora: Revealed the name of a VII member to you (Vishal)
Pythera Venora: Has been stalking you
Pythera Venora: Rides a Volareon
Pythera Venora: Knows Darcyanna told you how she got her scars
Pythera Venora: Has promised to come back for Darcyanna
Pythera Venora: Will not hesitate to kill you
Fauna: Volareon

Injuries:
Minor nicks and cuts to arms, legs and torso - 7-10 trials to heal
Minor bruising from fall to hip and shoulder - 7-10 trials to heal
Major gash wound from top of right shoulder, down across chest to shallow out and stop at sternum - YOU ARE BLEEDING. This wound is deep at the shoulder, shallowing as you reach its end at the sternum. If you do not get it professionally treated you will be at risk of infection and death. It will require cauterisation, stitches, medication and rest to heal. You will have some arm weakness for at least 7-10 trials, not enough to stop you functioning but it will be harder to lift your arm above chest height. If you don’t look after the wound you risk infection. Will take at least 30-35 trials to fully heal the deep part of the wound, 10-15 for the shallowest. Will leave a permanent scar. May leave permanent ache in the shoulder and stiffness without some physiotherapy.