Bladebound Retainer Quest #8

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[STATS]
>Combat: +++
>Social: +
>Knowledge: ++

[Abilities/Traits/Perks]
>Indomitable, Rank 1: Ignore the penalties imposed by Blood Loss. Does not negate health loss.
>Atelier of Death: Craft your own Bombs and Poisons
>Nimble Fingers: +30 to non-attack actions involving your hands (lockpicking, pickpocketing, etc.).
>Specter’s Dream: A technique to allow one to rest while remaining aware of one’s surroundings. (4/8/12 hour intervals each with their own bonuses).
>Knowledge: Nobility (Aderaveth): Take a flat 50 to Knowledge rolls concerning this subject.

=====

Naked, save for the mist
that girdles round her body,
and clings to every movement,
she glides through the elder forest,
past oak and ash and cypress
all touched by winter glass.

The air is full of voices
that whisper and murmur
sweet nothings to accompany
her dance under the aurora
high above the sky.

In this land, the night is old,
forever and everlasting
as a copse of evergreen,
an eternal sea of white.

(cont.)

How can I describe one
with skin as dark as earth,
and features far too fair
to even be close to human,
and moves her lithe body
to the rhythm of falling snow?

She leaves no trace, no step
upon unblemished snow,
with hands raised high above
in praise, in rapturous worship
to elder, ancient gods.

Thus I remain silent, quiet
to her performance, where the
sound of broken ice remains
to be the world’s applause.

-Ballad to an Ingulan Skysinger, by an unknown poet

=======

The Elder Pantheon is one of the oldest religions observed by the Viridian Order, with a history of over a thousand years of tales passed on from Skysinger to Skysinger. This faith is one that is primarily worshiped by the Ingulans of the Moonlight Plains and a few devotees scattered across the continent and some of the lands beyond the Gaping Sea. While it remains the smallest when the time comes to count worshipers and adherents, there is no shortage of theological meaning and metaphor to be discovered in its two-thousand year oral history.

This book shall cover the faith in its entirety, but I shall present to you a brief summary of its main belief.

The faith maintains that the known world was brought into being by the union of the sibling gods Ingur, Molder of the Earths, and Ingur, the Infinite Sky, in the wake of Ingur’s battle with the primordial Beast of Chaos and its eventual sundering. Using its carcass as the foundation, Ingur built upon the Beast using the Aether, the raw materials of Creation, in order to form the Earth.

(cont.)

Satisfied upon the completion of his work, he took his sister Ingul and copulated with her as the earth beneath them cooled. For seven days and nights, their lovemaking brought both life upon the barren earth. Ingul’s tears shed on the first night fell to the earth to create the first lakes and rivers, and where Ingur’s seed fell, forests and plants would spring to life. But to keep things brief, the Earth was finished in seven days, and the Elder Gods marveled at the result of their spent passion.

While the advance of time has not been kind to its faithful, most notably that of the Crimson Tyrant’s near genocide of the Ingulans, they still maintain a strong, if not noticeable, presence on Kaithe.

Perhaps the most noticeable difference between the Faith of the High Gods and that of the Oratory of Light is how their manifestations of faith reveal truths that these faiths have either glossed over or outright overlooked. For example, the female body is celebrated in ways that most of Kaithe find uncomfortable, in more ways than one. Ritual dances have a taste of the erotic, adding hip swinging and pelvic gyrations to the movements of clerical dancing.

Worshipers believe that this pleases the Elder Gods because it encourages the act that allows life to flourish and grow. The female body, according to Skysingers (Ingulan priestesses), is the epitome of life. It is the warmth of the woman’s womb that lovingly receives the seed from her husband, nurtures the soul the gods have granted unto her, and the milk of her breast is the ambrosia that sustains the child’s life.

Ingul granted all females this life-giving gift under the orders of Ingur. By granting humans the gift of sex, they freed humanity from the slavery of the gods. Humans no longer had to petition the gods for children; they could make their own progeny of their own volition. Access to life meant access to knowledge, wisdom, virtue and goodness. And the link between all of that is the woman.

so what I'm pulling from this is that at some point we will get a lapdance from an Ingulan priestess.

no anons, the point is that goodness and virtue comes from females, so we should only swear lifedebts to females.

Well, aren't we ahead of the curve then?

not exactly; Clearly, they must be of birthing age!

>>Midbridge Garrison
>> Winter 47, 238 ACR

“I’m glad to see that you’re alright,” Lord Kieran exhales, grimly surveying the bloody epicenter of the garrison. “And that the abilities of the Crownguard’s prowess in battle continue to live up to their legends.”

You shrug, doing your best not to wince as a lance of pain races up the arm where one of the soldiers had nicked you. “And we are likewise glad to see that the Midbridge Garrison once again belongs to the Vale. Did you have any trouble with the remaining Vascieli?”

“Not much. In their zealotry to kill us, they became sloppy and undisciplined. That mad charge against our first wave of knights nearly decimated the entirety of their main forces. No major injuries saved for a few broken bones and some lucky cuts.”

The captain of Pullman’s Eagle Knights, identifiable by the gold trim around his armor, grimaces. “Aye, milord, but there are still some of them holed up in the cellars and passages bellow. They have barricaded the doors with everything they’ve got and refused our offers of mercy.”

The Lord of the Vale sighs, before waving dismissively to his captain. “Then once you and your men break down that door, you’re to kill all of them to the last. We’ve taken more than enough prisoners for the racks back home.”

“Three, sir?”

He scoffs. “The only reason that they’re alive is the fact that they pissed themselves and fainted. Utter milksops, the lot of them. And I’m not about to kill press-ganged boys if I can’t help it. Do I look like a Tarmund to you?”

The captain shakes his head. “No, sir.”

“Good,” Pullman nods, satisfied. “Then it is settled. Let me know when you breach the doors. There’s only two ways for them now: the sewer exit to the bottom of the ravine or the wall of Eagle Knight spears from the door.”

He turns to you, in an afterthought. “Thank you again, Painel. You may go about your business as you see fit.”

(cont.)

You bow politely at his acknowledgement before walking away. It takes you a few moments to find an alcove for yourself, given the rushing squads of knights and activity as the garrison returns to more hospitable conditions. Pulling up your sleeve, you hiss as the dried blood pulls at the skin and lets more of your vitae flow.

Shaking your head and cursing your own ineptitude, you pull a bit of bandages from your satchel and begin to redo the crude bandages around your wrist and forearm.

It has been half an hour since the battle for the Midbridge Garrison, the tide of your fortune turning upon the opening of the gates. You had racked an impressive body count, felling at least five before the Ingulan had finished his task. He had rejoined you, and the two of you fought your way up to the battlements where he shot his arrow of fire.

By the time the rebels had realized what was happening, it was too late. The Eagle Knights came within the minute, charging through the gates with shields raised and spears leveled at the Vascieli. The whole affair took less than an hour before the Great Eagle of the Vale was raised above the highest tower, signaling your victory.

The blood runs thick in the main area of the garrison, where bodies in black, red and gold are removed for disposal. A pair of sullen-faced squires busy themselves by inspecting the corpses for anything of value, tossing coin purses into crates and any bits of parchment to their superior knights. Once they finish their grisly work, the bodies are carted to the bridge, and summarily thrown off into the deep ravine below.

You sigh as you tie the bandage around your wrist, flexing to make sure nothing’s damaged. Your time is now your own once again, and the Ingulan already left to go back to the others, primarily Allanus, his charge. As for you, you decide to…

>Aid the Eagle Knights in the basement
>Explore the garrison for Vascieli treasure
>Return to the royal siblings and Crownguard

>>Return to the royal siblings and Crownguard

>Aid the Eagle Knights in the basement

>>Explore the garrison for Vascieli treasure
We can find something nice and give it to the loli.

>>Return to the royal siblings and Crownguard

>Return to the royal siblings and Crownguard

>>Explore the garrison for Vascieli treasure
sounds like the eagles have the basement covered

>Return to the royal siblings and Crownguard

>>Return to the royal siblings and Crownguard

You set off in the direction where the Ingulan went, tracing his steps and path as best you can remember. There is nothing more that you owe to the Eagle Knights, and it would make for somewhat of a poor sight to have a Crownguard snooping around like some misbegotten sellsword or mercenary. After all, your duty is to the crown, as much as you’d like to pick apart the walls to see if any Vascieli poisons or tinctures lingered in their occupation.

The garrison itself it large, definitely bigger on the inside than it is from the out, containing at least three separate courtyards: the centermost one dedicated to inspecting goods and directing the flow of traffic, while the East and West most courtyards reserved for the occupation of the standing force. Fully staffed, it could hold five hundred men, but a minimum of at least thirty were enough to keep things running smooth.

Your steps take you towards the Western courtyard, through a pair of double doors to find the carriage situated in the middle of area. A pair of servants race against the falling snow to bring up an overhead tarp to cover a bonfire where three chickens on skewers slowly roast above the flames. In spite of yourself, your stomach grumbles, and the corner of your mouth tugs up in amusement. It’s about midday now, and you’re back in time for lunch.

Ellana is the first one to spot you, cracking open the carriage door to wave at you from the entrance. “Marcus! Are you okay? I hope that you aren’t too – EEP!” She calls, yelping in surprise as her brother attempts to pelt her with a snowball. The projectile goes too high, smacking the frame of the vehicle and showering your charge in a localized snowfall.

You can hear the steam coming out of her ears as Adrianna growls from the interior of the carriage. “Allanus!”

Mollified, the young boy drops his next snowball, moving behind the legs of his Crownguard. Siverow sighs while the Ingulan chortles at the prince’s antics.

(cont.)

I hope we cleaned the blood off of our clothes, otherwise I imagine Ellana will be upset plus it will be very uncomfortable (and almost impossible to get out).

Probably can't get rid of it all on such short notice.

Unsurprisingly, it’s Bellatrix that moves to greet you, sauntering up to meet you halfway to the carriage with a pointed look on her face. “So how was it?”

You tilt your head, confused. “How was what?”

“You know…” She waves her hands emphatically at the surrounding area, eventually gesturing towards the weapons at your belt. “How was the battle? I only managed to get here when everything was over and the bodies half-emptied of blood.”

Oh. “Well, I can’t say anything good or bad about it. Everything was relatively straightforward…except for a Vascieli knight that gave us a bit of trouble.”

“Really? How do you figure?”

Your eyes flicker towards the Ingulan, currently admonishing his charge in a low sotto baritone. “Well, the bastard managed to shrug off one of his exploding arrows. Or was it penetrating? I don’t know the finer points of enchanted arrows, but I can tell you that our opponent managed to fight in spite of a hole in his stomach the size of my fist.”

Bellatrix whistles lowly, impressed. “No shit? Damn. For all the horseshit they scrounge up from wherever they can take it, seems like they get a few things right every now and then.”

The dry look on your face could melt the snowdrift by the carriage. “Meaning?”

“Good soldiers,” She explains, “Cause in spite of their oh-so-lofty ideals of fighting for liberation and against the tyranny of the Empire…they couldn’t field shit on a battlefield if their lives depended on it.”

“Well, considering what the Eagle Knights are doing with the bodies outside…”

She laughs at that. “True enough. Somewhere down there, at least one pack of Vale Wolves are eating happy tonight. And…” She pauses, frowning at the bandage on your arm. “You’re hurt.”

“Oh, this? Just a flesh wound, honestly. Nothing too debilitating, if that’s what you’re worried about. I can still protect the royals well enough."

(cont.)

“Glad to hear it. Though it isn’t the royals I’m worried about when it comes to your arm.”

“Then what…the spar. Really?”

She smirks, unashamed at what you believe to be the correct guess. “If push comes to shove, all of us are fine holding out without another Crownguard. And besides, it wouldn’t do to have you pulling the injury excuse when we get to Montgomer. Or…”

Bellatrix looks around the courtyard, where a few knights have set up positions in every corner of the battlements and the ground floor. And in spite of the carriage’s presence, there’s still plenty of free space left. Almost as big as the Floor back in Kathmire Keep.

“We can just do it here. If you’re up for it. All we gotta do is get rid of this slushy shit and then...” she licks her lips and bears her teeth in a feral grin. "Just you, me and all the weapons at our disposal."

>Sure, why not? Spar here.
>Save the spar for Montgomer.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

COIN FLIP, COIN FLIP

>>Sure, why not? Spar here.

>Sure, why not? Spar here.

>Sure, why not? Spar here.
We don't know if we'll have the opportunity at Montgomer.

>>Sure, why not? Spar here.
We promised didn't we?

>Sure, why not? Spar here.

>Sure, why not? Spar here.

Kill jester

While your arm isn’t going to hinder you too much, the fact that there’s so much goddamn snow that doesn’t have any sign of stopping makes you even more apprehensive to fight her here. The last time you had an intense brawl in a winter environment, you nearly bled to death. Bad kinds of signs if you ever saw them.

…oh what the hell.

“I’m probably going to regret this,” You mutter under your breath, “But what the hell. Sure, I’ll spar with you here, since I think that we might not get the chance at Montgomer. Thing is, we better hope that it stops snowing. One bad slip and we could very well crack our heads open on the rocks.”

Bellatrix seems surprised that you’d accept, either out of the fact that you actually agreed or the fact that you called her on her teasing. Maybe it was both, maybe it was neither. But her shock gives way to a savage glee. She isn’t making any hostile motions towards you, but the sight of her brimming with bloodlust is churning your stomach.

“Well, we’re going to have to be sure that you won’t fall,” She grins, clapping a hand to your shoulder. Squeezing it tightly, she pulls you in close, too close, and whispers into your ear. “When everyone’s asleep. Other courtyard, far away from the royals. Be there, Painel. ‘cause I’m looking forward to what you’ve got under all that leather.”

Her hot breath tickles against your ear, raising gooseflesh along the places where her words brush off your skin. Every instinct is screaming at you to get away and put some distance between you and her, but you keep calm as she backs off, her wide smile returning to a collected smirk. “Got it?”

You take a moment to clear your throat. “Of course. You’d better show up as well.”

“Who do you think I am?” She scoffs, waving a hand as she walks back to the carriage. “I’ve been looking forward to this ever since you laid out Silverow’s ass on the Floor. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

(cont.)

Hot?

She saunters back to Adrianna, whistling a jaunty tune. Silverow’s taking his turn to lecture Prince Allanus about the perils of childish pranks, but the Ingulan as a man would someone who just signed his own death warrant. It’s an odd combination of concern and…pity.

Well, that can’t be good.

>>One meal later

“The fortress is ours,” Lord Pullman says, sucking the flesh off a chicken bone before tossing it into the bonfire. “And all the last dregs of resistance have been either taken care of or restrained properly. Now, there are several complications that have arisen. Not too worrying, mind you,” He assures at the royals’ wide eyes, “But enough that I feel obliged to voice it to you.”

Adrianna is quick to press the issue, speaking out on behalf of her siblings’ hesitation. “So what does the inclusion of these…brutes spell for our journey to Uncle Alistair?”

“All of the men I stationed here before I left to join your brother are missing, presumably dead since there’s no prisoners in the cellar save for the ones we put there hours ago. It would be foolish of me to just leave the Midbridge Garrison without any sort of escort.”

Silverow closes his book, leaning forward with a frown on his brow. “Then you plan to call for reinforcements, then, milord?”

Pullman nods. “Aye. Thankfully, I’ve still got a Nightraven on my belongings, and it won’t take more than a week before reinforcements arrive. As a matter of fact, I just sent it on its way towards my hold in the Vale. But until they arrive…”

“We’re going to have to hold down the garrison until they arrive,” You finish for him.

“Exactly. I hope that you do not mind this deviation from the plan. Emeron and Palme won’t be happy, but I’m not about to leave the primary road leading to my domain defenseless and without guard. Especially during the winter.”

“No, we do understand,” Adrianna says, pursing her lips.

(cont.)

“If you’d like, I’m more than willing to surrender the officer’s quarters to you-”

“No, no, that’s alright, Uncle,” Ellana assures him, “We shall be fine in the tents and blankets. If anything, you need the nice bed. You’ve been outside for ages.”

A tired smile breaks out across the lord’s face. “Well, now…that’s quite thoughtful of you, Princess…thank you. Oh, and before I forget…”

Pullman snaps his fingers and his squire comes forward, a youth with hair the color of straw with a satchel in his arms. He presents it to his lord, who takes it and pulls out the contents: a pair of knives, two pouches of what is unmistakably gold, and what appears to be a small book of sorts.

“Your reward for your aid,” He says. “Looted from the corpses of the Vascieli and supplemented from my own personal coin purse. It is a far cry compared to the Garrison, but it wouldn’t be proper to leave you without some kind of recognition.”

The Ingulan looks happy as he receives his money as well the knives that he straps to his belt. You, on the other hand, do a better job of keeping your satisfaction intact as Pullman passes onto you what is unmistakably an alchemist’s notebook.

“I couldn’t help but notice your kit. And this, we found off the dead body of a high officer. Normally, I would burn this without a second thought to prevent its spread, but if it is in your hands…I believe you could turn it for the good of the crown.”

>Acquired 10 Arums, 140 Crowns and 372 Links
>Acquired Vascieli Alchemist’s Book.

>You have eight hours until the sun sets.
>What will you do until your spar with Bellatrix?

>Choose one:
>Explore the Midbridge Garrison
>Meditate in the Specter’s Dream
>Read the ‘Botanical World of Kaithe’
>Read the Vascieli Recipe Book
>Custom option

What are the Rest bonuses again Kaz?

>Meditate in the Specter’s Dream

>Meditate in the Specter’s Dream
4 hours
>Read the Vascieli Recipe Book
4hours

>Meditate in the Specter’s Dream

>Eliminates Fatigue for 4 Hours
>Grants +5 to Stats for 8 hours
>Grants +10 to Stats for 12 hours

>>Meditate in the Specter’s Dream

>Meditate in the Specter’s Dream
Full 8, we'll have plenty of time to read during our stay here. Right now we have a duel to participate in.

>>Meditate in the Specter’s Dream
also how much money is that? like what could you buy with that much money.

>Meditate in the Specter’s Dream
4
>Read the ‘Botanical World of Kaithe’

A lot of money. The Aurums are Pullman's, but the Crowns and Links have been looted off of dead Vascieli. These values are subject to change and I'll pastebin a full chart later...

>Imperial Standard
>100 Links to 1 Crown
>100 Crowns to an Aurum

Links
5 – A commoner’s meal: 4 for bread and salted pork, 1 for weak beer.
10 – A night at a cheap roadside inn.
15 – A tumble with a back-alley harlot.
20 – The cost of repairs for a farming tool.
36 – A day’s wages for hard labor.
50 – A beast of burden or livestock, primarily oxen and cattle.

Crowns
1 – The general price for a farming tool (pitchfork, scythe, etc.)
5 – A mediocre sword.
25 – A tradesman’s daily wages.

Aurums
100 - A night with a courtesan from the best brothel
250 – A valuable piece of jewelry a lady or royal may wear (necklace, ring, etc.).
500 - An enchanted weapon from the Ivory Tower of Magic
1000 - A portable alchemy kit
2500 - Yearly maintenance for a motte and bailey

When I say, “Choose one”, it really means “choose only one”…
>Enter the Specter’s Dream
Considering the fact that you’ve got a spar coming up against someone who can actually engage you in a melee combat…you decide to enter the Specter’s dream. There is no offense directed to Silverow when you say those words. A mage is dangerous, true enough, but easily overcome once you engage them in a melee.

Not so much with a proper solider, and one who happens to be a Crownguard, on top of that. You’ve never seen Bellatrix fight outside of smashing practice dummies to splinters back in the Crownguard barracks, but there’s plenty of information to be gleaned from those acts alone.

She has a large strength. She's easily one of the strongest warriors you’ve ever seen. You scowl deeply as you pull memories of combatants you’ve gone up against, including that of Zara of the Red Snakes. But you digress. She was the superior, in terms of strength, endurance and technique.

Next, she’s temperamental, excited by the prospect of combat. When you look back on it, she was more than willing to stay behind and keep the family safe while you and the Ingulan aided Pullman. But maybe, the twitch of her eyebrow was being denied proper combat. This one is more speculation than anything else, but it’s speculation that’s grounded and backed by a few logical deductions.

Ellana and Allanus stare at you as you settle down and initiate the Dream. For their sake, you keep your eyes closed as your senses begin to fade in and out. No point in scaring them, even though they’re waving their hands at you as if you were a statue. The voice of Adrianna admonishes them and tells them to go find something else to do. Even Crownguard need their rest.

How very kind of her.

Even before your sense of hearing goes, you can hear the royal family gathering around the fire, settling down comfortably as they pull out needlework, books, or small toys.

(cont.)

The passage of time quickly passes, hours turning into minutes and minutes into mere seconds. And while your senses are activating sporadically, you can still make out some snippets of information. One of the prisoners confessed to being forced into the Vascieli, taken from his village. In spite of his affinity for fire, Allanus seems to have a fondness for throwing snowballs. The Ingulan and Silverow discuss magic, as well as its applications to arrows, armor and the human body, doubtless trying to puzzle out the mysterious endurance behind the Vascieli Knight.

Still, life goes on, as one by one, they eventually shift positions, either disappearing into other parts of the garrison or moving and coming back after a walk.

You exit from the dream exactly when eight hours have passed, and the sun is a distant thought in the evening sky. The only source of light is the torches and braziers lit along the battlements and the courtyard, with the occasional bonfire casting shadows on the walls. A few knights patrol the battlements high above on the walls as the Crownguard keep a sharp eye on the royal family’s tents.

You stand up, taking care to get the circulation flowing back into your leg before you set off. You nod once to the Ingulan, who presses two of his fingers to his heart and traces a nine-pointed star across his breastplate. The Elder sign for good fortune and luck. Smiling, you wave at him before disappearing out of the courtyard and moving faster towards your destination.

in the Evening
>>Courtyard

“So what do you think?” Bellatrix asks, flipping her short sword in one hand as she gestures to your arena with the other. “Once it stopped snowing, it was easy to get the crud out of the way. Sure, the stones are still a bit wet, but you’d have to be drunk to slip on this kind of moisture.”

You think about a certain serving girl with a propensity for accidents and a talent for tripping over nothing.

(cont.)

“If anything,” You slowly say, approaching her from the side, “I’m more worried about the noise we’ll make. I have no desire to wake up the Crowmonds nor make the guards think there’s an actual fight going on.”

“Which is why we’ve let them know in advance,” She says. “And besides, with the wind still howling something awful, it would be damn impossible for anyone to hear outside of the middle courtyard.”
You give her a look that suggests that you’ve put little stock into her words, but you roll with it anyway. Unsheathing a pair of blunted daggers, you step onto the arena, given definition by a pair of four braziers. The square where you will fight is twenty by twenty feet across. Plenty of room for you to Dance as well as her to work magic with her spear.

A few of the knights closest to you watch with unguarded interest, and it might be a trick of the light, but you could’ve sworn that you saw the glint of coin exchanged between some of them. Not that it matters, honestly. You’re already rich enough given Pullman’s generous financial gift to you.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Bellatrix calls, falling into a stance. Her sword is held out to receive or counter an attack while her spear is leveled directly at you. The tips and edges are blunted to prevent lasting injury, but they would still hurt and even penetrate if you weren’t careful.

You look at her from across the arena, feeling your mind empty of all things save for battle, as you take the position of the Dance. “I’m always ready.”

>Attack. He who strikes first wins!
>Defend. Wait and see what she does.
>Custom option.

>Attack. He who strikes first wins!

>Attack. He who strikes first wins!
Actually on second though, I think allowing her to gain any momentum at all would be a bad idea.

>>The passage of time quickly passes

Gonna take a quick break to eat something. Midnight snack. In the meanwhile, try to figure out and spitball some strategies to deal with her.

Bellatrix wields:
>Short sword
>Spear

I suppose when attacking go on the spear side. Once we get past it's range it becomes less useful even if she can whack us with it and it's harder for her to counter with the short sword.

I think. I don't really know jack about actual melee combat.

>Attack. He who strikes first wins!
give her a good show

Staying on her spear side will be the best bet. It doesn't matter how bullshit strong she is, swinging a spear instead of thrusting is all about leverage, which she will lack since she is using it one handed.

Her short sword is definitely going to be the larger threat to us, as long as we stay right on her. I'd say to focus on preventing her from getting a clean strike with her sword and never let her disengage.

If we have blunted throwing knives then we should absolutely initiate with them. Put her on the back step and don't give her a chance to keep us from getting in her guard.

Get in real close on her spear side, one handed spear is useless without a shield and a formation, and we have the advantage up real close where we can use knives but she can't use either of her weapons.

Okay, I'm back. And it seems that y'all have got a nice plan laid out. Stay on the side of her spear, give her a good show, spring forward and attack.

Writing...

>Inb4 she is so good at her weapons of choice she can utilize her spear 100% effectively from any range and can counter with her short sword even across her body, stretching like she is Dhalsim

Yoga!

Memeing aside, she probably has some crazy bullshit thing. She is a Crownsguard after all.

There is a quiet burst of wind that comes from above the walls, howling through the ramparts and battlements and scattering snowfall through the air. It sends knights scrambling to shield their eyes from the scrambling gust that claws at exposed skin, causes the fires around the courtyard to flicker sharply. For the briefest of moments, darkness holds supremacy over the garrison before the fires come back to life.

That is all the signal the two of you need.

The instant the lights come on, both of you move. There isn’t even a noise as you push off the ground and charge towards the center of the arena. In the dim light, you can see her mouth open in a gleeful smile, and her eyes charged with exhilaration.

This is not a spar.

This is a battle.

=

Bellatrix is strong; you have no doubt about that. You have seen at a firsthand basis of how devastating the knightess can be when the blood flows through her veins. And even though her targets had been inert and unmoving, she still displayed a surprising amount of proficiency with her weapons.

However, the advantage still lies with you.

Dual-wielding is always a bit of a tricky art, one that takes years to learn and even more to master. And that is only while carrying two of the same weapon into a conflict. As she stands before you, Bellatrix holds a spear in her left hand and a short sword on her right. By themselves, they would be enough to give you a little more pause and consideration for your tactics.

But with her current weapons, you can afford to cede more of your mental processes to your instincts.

There are only two ideal ways to wield a spear: to carry it with two hands as one would a quarterstaff, or with the spear in one and a shield of some sort in the other. And ideally? A spear wielder would have other warriors of similar disposition and equipment to support their blind spots.

(cont.)

This is not the case with her.

For all you know, she could be ambidextrous, but it still didn’t matter. Her spear is one to be wielded with both hands for maximum efficiency. While it doesn’t quite match the length of some of the larger sorts of longspears, it’s still at least a good two feet larger than a shortspear. And the weight at its tip in the form of the gryphon and the head…

Even if the weapon was made to ensure balance and counterweight for a seamless wielding, there is no changing the fact that she is using it inefficiently. Not that she seems to care too much.

You feint right, pretending to go for the sword before switching last minute to chase after her spear. She doesn’t fall for it. Bellatrix moves, twisting her body before letting her spear out in a wicked arc meant to crash into your side. That, you easily dodge, leaping back before you chase her spear again.

The tip of her spear and the lengths of your blades clash together in a shower of sparks, steel grinding against steel for the briefest of instants before you pull back and go at it again. There is no struggle to overpower the other, no prolonging the contact. All that there is are brief, dainty almost little bites that are exchanged between your weapons.

Surprisingly light on her feet, she does a good job of keeping you at bay, either battering aside your daggers or preventing your attacks by charging in with her sword. More than once have you been forced to block instead of dodge, yet you’re the one making her do most of the work of backing off and twisting to show you both of her sides.

Not that she looks any bit exhausted in the slightest, let alone even breathing too hard. Gods above, her endurance is monstrous. Five (at least, you think it’s five, but for all you know, it could have been ten) minutes into the battle and she doesn’t even look winded.

(cont.)

“You’re doing a good job of chasing after my spear,” Bellatrix calls out, exhaling as she deflects another one of your blows with the shaft of her spear. The noise it makes confirms it to be made of wood, but the fact that there’s no scratch on the weapon indicates either enchantment or special materials. Both maybe, considering how Prince Emeron gave you an enchanted dagger. “It’s the first time I’ve had to move this fast in a long time. Last one to get me to move this was Palme back in the Keep long before you came to the Crownguard.”

You grunt, batting aside a trust of her sword before moving back towards her spear. “It’s the wise thing to do against an opponent with your equipment. Any soldier with common sense…not that there’s a lot to go around, but any seasoned warrior would strike there.”

“Or maybe you’ve got a preferences for shafts instead of sheathes?” In the darkness, you can see the whites of her teeth bared in a feral smile. “Not that I can blame you. It’s one hell of a pretty weapon.”

You can’t tell if she’s deliberately trying to goad you or if she’s just exchanging friendly talk between the two of you. You decide the latter, given the lack of malicious intent behind the words. Shaking your head, you flip your daggers and move into attack…

…only for the monotony of dancing around the floor and exchanging little bites to be broken.

In a move that surprises both you and your audience, Bellatrix casts aside her short sword. It falls the ground with a clang, bouncing twice along the stones before it comes to a stop. The spear was in both of her hands even before the first noise rang out, and by the time the second noise rang across the stone, she was already charging your position.

>Roll 1d100 + 30 Combat
>Best of three.

Rolled 13 + 30 (1d200 + 30)

Rolled 44 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

Win or lose, I'm hoping for a decent showing.

Rolled 27 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

Rolled 29 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

+35 you mean. 30 Combat 5 Rested Bonus.

Don't delete, we can just add it up.

>79

That's probably a lose, but hopefully we don't go down like a bitch.

Rolled 55 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

Well where the fuck were you?

Rolled 45 + 35 (1d100 + 35)

Check my 100

Rolled 80 (1d100)

Derp, forgot the +30 (or 35)

By some miracle, you manage to parry it by the skin of your teeth, but not quickly enough for it not to leave some sort of impact. As her spear thrusts forward, you yourself move to meet Bellatrix. There’s a noise as your dagger knocks the blunted front of the spear aside, but it’s far from the most optimal parry. It flies up towards your face, and it’s only at the last possible second that you twitch and turn to avoid a potentially fatal blow.

There’s a sharp pain on your cheek as the edge of her spear opens up a small cut on your cheek. You hiss as you retract, throwing a pair of knifes at her feet. They rattle harmlessly to the stones, but they do the trick well enough. Both of you backpedal, stepping back to the places where you started from.

“Ah, fuck,” you mutter, bringing the pad of your thumb up to your cheek. It comes away smeared with blood, and it doesn’t show any sign of stopping soon. Not that it matters, anyway. Because for the most part, it shouldn’t impair your vision if you continue…not that you exactly set any rules for this “spar”. “Okay, I completely forgot. What’re we fighting to? First blood? No, can’t be that since you just nicked me. Incapacitation? Surrender-”

She isn’t listening to you.

Even in the poor light, you can see her raise trembling fingers to the blood that’s splattered across her face. She pulls her hand down as if to wipe it off her, trailing down her nose, coming across her mouth-

-It was only for a moment, and it could’ve been a trick of the light, but could’ve sworn that something…you’re not sure what. Yet something definitely happened to her eyes. Golden irises had faded away as a shade of red as dark as blood washed over her eyes-

But you blink, and they remain as their usual amber-gold.

(cont.)

Seems like our knight isn't entirely human potentially.

AND YOU SAID MY EYES WERE FREAKY

Bellatrix lets out a rasping, shuddering breath, planting her spear on the ground as if she were about to stumble. This comes as a surprise to you more than it does the knights, because as far as you’re concerned, you didn’t make too much of a lasting impression on her save for a few heavy-handed blows. Something isn’t right…

It takes her a few moments to recover, eventually coming out of her stupor. Her breath eventually returns to a level, if not slightly strained, tempo as she smirks right back at you. “Oh, no. You’re not…getting off that easily, Painel. We’re not stopping. Oh, we’re not stopping at all,” She whispers in a guttural, undulating tone. “Not until one of us is lying on the ground, not until one of us is begging for mercy, not until there’s a clear and present winner…”

You find yourself hard-pressed to say it, but it looks like she’s gotten even _more_ excited about fighting you. To the point where she’s getting somewhat lost in what you can confirm to be some kind of bloodlust. But to a certain extent, you feel the same way in regards to your partner. The blood in your veins is singing, and there’s an elation that you’re actually fighting against someone who can make you bleed, make you work hard for your kill-

No.

You pull yourself back and shake your head to violently rid yourself of those thoughts. Not kill. Subdue. Incapacitate. As tense as things are going to get, this is not a duel to the death.

>”Alright, glad to see we’ve got established victory conditions.” [Play it off, it’s just a trick of the light.]
>“Wait, hold up. What the hell just happened?” [Eyes just don’t change color, especially not like that.]

>>”Alright, glad to see we’ve got established victory conditions.” [Play it off, it’s just a trick of the light.]
Small details like that shouldn't stop our duel.

>>”Alright, glad to see we’ve got established victory conditions.” [Play it off, it’s just a trick of the light.]
lets not be the one to start the poking into the past game

>”Alright, glad to see we’ve got established victory conditions.” [Play it off, it’s just a trick of the light.]

>>”Alright, glad to see we’ve got established victory conditions.” [Play it off, it’s just a trick of the light.]
I'm all for asking. But later, without an audience.

>”Alright, glad to see we’ve got established victory conditions.” [Play it off, it’s just a trick of the light.]
Eh, whatever. If she wants to tell us sometime she'll tell us. Until then, no point in prying. Certainly not from Marcus.

Just hope neither of us get seriously hurt here.

>>”Alright, glad to see we’ve got established victory conditions.” [Play it off, it’s just a trick of the light.]

None of our business, Palme isn't stupid enough to hire someone with something like that going on unless it's at the least not dangerous to his charges. If she wants to tell us she will, otherwise it's not important that we know.

>Guttural, undulating voice
>Getting off that easily.
>Lying on the ground, begging for mercy

>>”Alright, glad to see we’ve got established victory conditions.” [Play it off, it’s just a trick of the light.]

this is being said later though

>”Alright, glad to see we’ve got established victory conditions.” [Play it off, it’s just a trick of the light.]

Man, no offense meant, but the fighting obsessed lady is starting to feel like a really overused trope. Like, almost every quest I'm reading has one, but I am probably finding it more often because I am not a fan of it.

....you're telling me BRQ is cliche.

What part of MY LIFE IS YOURS did not tip you off to that?

besides, this is supernaturally obsessed with fighting, which is not actually as common.

I can understand that sentiment. With that said, I do plan on subverting that trope. Maybe even in this thread, even. Trust me when I say it's not as it seems.

Writing...

>trailing down her nose, coming across her mouth-
looks like something supernatural/magical. Vampire?

Also, she got us with her spear. She must have whipped it back really fast to get blood on her face.

Really? Supernatural fighting obsessed is arguably even more common than the mundane kind. And most authors just use it as a cop out so they don't need to make detailed character. I'm not saying kaz is doing that, but it's pretty often that a female warrior is part demon/a werewolf/possessed by angry spirit/ some other bloodlust reason.

Maybe the spear is wonky? Soul edge type deal.

Oh shut the hell up. You haven't been bitching while she's been spoiling fo

Gonna drop some word of god before I continue.
>Vampires
Vampires do not exist in BRQ. Bellatrix is 100% human.

Writing...

For* a fight and doing the manly lady bit. Now you choose to bitch?

A-user? Did you die mid post?

But aren't they mutually exclusive? It's always "woman who likes fighting and got where they are with their own power" and "mysterious silent beauty empowered/possessed with supernatural powers"

AHAH, that just means EVERYONE ELSE isn't human! We're all Carbons, you heard it here first!

This is the first thread I've been live for. I would have said something sooner if I had been here.

Phone @ work. Somehow auto posted.

Well good to know you`d have stuck to your guns and been a pick asap

So, humans get red eyes when they taste blood, and we get silver eyes when we trance. I wonder what other species are related to what colors?