RP:A Desert Meeting

Rp: A Desert Meeting

Location: Desert Oasis

Aden was still holding the gladiator's hand. Something she wasn't sure what she thought about yet. She'd taken his offered hand in public setting and allowed him to lead her into the desert. For what? She hardly knew of him, save for what she remembered from a child. He could be leading her to her death for all she knew. The only daughter of of a former fominus and a current senator. The thought gave her breath pause but not her steps. For most of the walk she was quiet, lost in thought, enjoying the complexity that came with his closeness. Soon, the desert's oasis loomed in beauty before them. Aden tugged Hadrian's hand towards one of the smaller pools of water. "You promised you'd tell me of the favorite places you've traveled to." She knelt on the sand, unfolded the little blanket she'd brought and spread upon it the contents of the basket: bread and cheeses and fruits in various size and color.

Hadrian allows her to bring him to her chosen place of refuge from the blistering sun on high above. He knew that it was possible she would be caught out here with him, or spotted leaving with him, but if she were to run away with him, it mattered not now, if they had been caught. This being realized, the Gladiator begins removing his weaponry, namely his Gladius, and Pata-Gladius, along with his banded metal sleeve; he was going to enjoy this picnic with her, and forget about possible troubles. As the last of his equipment is dropped to the sandy earth, he too plops himself down, opposite Aden. A smile is offered to her, as he notices the types of food she brought along for the picnic, giving her a silent thank you, as it were. "Rynvale has many pretty sights, my favorite being atop the Great Wall there, in the Harbor. You can almost completely lose yourself in the blue vastness of the sea, or turn around and bear witness to one of the largest cities, as it moves about in day to day life." The man watches her for a few moments before continuing on; his eyes studying hers, their blue intensity lit with an intelligence becoming of her, framed so by her thick black hair. He left out that this was his new favorite place to be. "There are many places in the Sage Forests that I favor too. Quiet, peaceful places perfect for reflection."

Ghada's grey eyes darted back and forth scanning the desert looking for signs of life, but to no avail. There hadn’t been any caravans in the area for some time. He feared that word of what waits in the desert, had finally reached Gualon. About to give up and call it a day, his gaze found a couple nestled near an oasis. It was there, where he stood upon a dune of sand, like a deathward, a grim reminder of whose territory they were in. The born Weretiger stood motionless, arms crossed over his bare chest, while his mind calculated what he would do next. The born weretiger smiled, wrinkling the stripes upon his face some before he set in motion. Quick strides had him marching across the desert sand, with lethal intent. Metal shin guards clanked as his weight slammed down upon the earth. An odd hand and a half sword, which looked to be made from bone, swayed back and forth within his stride. The weapon itself, carried a leather wrapped handle and no hilt to speak of. It sat within a shoddy piece of leather which was tied to his waist. It was the only form of a scabbard he had. He kept the march up till he knew he was close enough to sprint and be upon them in no time. A gauntlet covered hand reached over to grab the hilt of his sword on his left side, before he surged in with hellish speed. Easy prey. A trail of sand splattered the air behind him, ruining the picturesque scene. The nightmare was upon them in an instant. A loud roar, slammed out of his vocal cords, forcing every muscle in his body to clench. Right hand violated the hilt of his sword with a death grip as he surged it forth, bringing the decaying weapon to life. It screamed through the air, gliding towards the unknown males stomach, hoping to slash through it. Hit or miss, he would continue the random assault and spit towards his targets eyes. A fat wad of mucus quickly launched from out of his mouth at the human. A despicable act, but one which could give most a pause for concern. The woman however, he did not forget about and came to a jaw dropping halt. The force of the stop, would surely send sand flying into the mans direction helping to aid in a distraction. With a twitch of his head, his gaze was upon her. A quick flick of the weapon sent it flying in her direction. It moved in an upward arc towards her shoulder, in an attempt to disable her arm quickly. The rage was beginning to build within him as he jumped backwards, to keep them both in sight.

Aden was trying to picture Rynvale in her head. She'd read stories of it, mostly ridiculous rogue tales that floated in with the caravans about pirates and thiefs and ruffians. She tried to picture a world in which those characters and Hadrian could coexist. But Hadrian seemed so very stuck to her, between having been a gladiator and being a free man. "You look quiet places then? Ones good for internal reflection?" She chose a grape and popped it into her mouth with a smile. "It's said there are armies of boats in Rynvale, big enough to fit houses inside." She chose another grape. "It must get awfully noisy there." She was still smiling, even as she was momentarily distracted by the sudden dark figure approaching in the distance. He- It- larger than a normal man- was moving at a remarkable speed. She stood quickly, trying to speak and finding herself unable to do such. It came quickly, blades drawn, but seemed to be more interested in attacking Hadrian for the moment. Having spent the better part of her life with gladiators, she knew a thing or two. She struck out with the palm of her right hand, aiming to strike the outside of the beast's elbow as it attacked at Hadrian and hopefully break the joint. She crouched low as the thing turned to attack her next and the blade barely nicked against the skin of her shoulder. While crouched she drew a handful of sand and as she stood again she threw it violently into the beast's eyes. She couldn't be sure, but there was something wet and sticky on her cheek and dripping through her hair. It was disgusting.

Hadrian notices the speedy approach of their assailant, which saves him from befalling an otherwise dramatic fatality, but unable to respond to Aden's question. With enough time, he tugs free the Gladius from its scabbard on the ground next to him, and brings it vertically to the forefront of himself, deflecting the deadly blow. The loud 'twang' of the concussion knocks him back a bit, but he is quick to scramble to his feet. Just as he gets up completely, a bit of the sand kicked up in his foes aberration mists his face, giving cause for quite a bit of eye, and mouth irritation. Taking the opportune moment of the sand being thrown in turn, at the Weretiger's face, Hadrian advances. In a barrage of steel, the Gladius hacks viciously for his opponent's thigh, and then a left haymaker is exchanged, to in effect, knock the man toothless, and send him reeling to the sand. Quickly recoiling from his wild punch, Hadrian drops to a crouch, and readies the Gladius, his arm held lengthwise in front, and the blade resting over the naked flesh of his forearm--the typical defensive stance of a Gladiator.

Ghada moved with battle reinforced fervor. His entire life was spent in the arena at Gualon, reacting to her palm strike was done quickly and precisely. Her hand came crashing down upon a partially bent elbow, his arms were never kept locked out and straight. A grunt ensued as his strength alone was not enough to stop the force of the blow. Thankfully the man deflected the attack with steel, aiding in his arms retreat without severe injury. A good attempt he thought, but not enough! His inner voice wailed sending him deeper into a frenzy. Again he reacted to her, this time to side step her thrown sand and attempt to flank her. His reactions weren’t quick enough and a handful landed squarely in his right eye, sending agony throughout his skull. Another grunt ensued. Perhaps he had chosen the wrong targets. However his steadfast determination to take what was theirs, never left his side. Rage still building he reacted to the man, whipping his sword back at him to deflect the blow. Another metallic clang rang out as he made contact. It was now or never. A scream of agony bellowed out as the change hit him. His body transformed in an instant. The haymaker punch landed squarely on the side of his face. He was much to busy with the pain of transformation to even notice it! A roar was let loose, as his attack continued. The now hybrid form Weretiger lept into action using tremendous strength. The weapon was dropped for favor of his claws. Left hand lashed out towards the womens face, followed by the right hand. Two quick slashes in all. The weretiger turned towards the man and leapt out at him hoping to slam into him. Both arms were ready to deflect the blade should it be needed.

Aden felt useless here, with no blade or shield to aid in fending off their attacker. She couldn't help the little smirk that curled the corner of her lips upward as sand hit home in the beast's eyes. But her sense of accomplishment was an arrogance short lived as something happened to the creature. It sounded painful and looked worse and she stepped away from it, arms half raised, ready to defend herself if need be. And it seemed it was needed, as the beast came after her again. She brought her arms up to ward off the claws, not that it would do much good if he was purely intent on her death. There were claw marks raking across her forearms and she sucked in a breath of sharp air at the sting of pain that radiated hot and red beneath her skin. She fell to her right knee, hoping to avoid more scars than necessary and kicked out with her left leg, the heel of her bare foot aimed towards striking the inside of the assailant's right knee. She was not going down without a fight. I mean, okay, physically, she was closer to the ground, but she could still kick his teeth out from down here, damn it! And this was not how proper young women behaved on bloody picnics!

Hadrian lets loose his own battle-cry upon seeing Aden struck a few times by the man-beast. Howling in fury, he rises to his feet just as the beast clashes into him, Gladius held back as he spins towards the ground with the thing. He knew it outmatched him in sheer strength alone, what with him having turned and all, so he would have to even the playing field a bit. As he collides to the ground, the wind is knocked from his lungs, warranting a grunt of pain to pass his lips. His brand held firmly in his hand, he thrusts the blade forward, intent on skewering the beast, and spilling its viscera. Prevail or fail, Hadrian scrambles away, a wary eye kept on Aden, as if to check to see if she was okay, as he sidesteps towards her, placing himself between the pair. He would act as her shield, and should not have allowed the thing to do what damage it already did to her. He silently reprimanded himself for the trouble he had brought to her. "Rise beast, so that I may cut you down," He quakes with a rage of his own to match the opposites.

Ghada took the solid kick to his knee, which nearly threw him off course. It was a reminder that even the smallest of things could destroy the biggest. His thoughts however, turned to the male who he slammed into. Like him the wind was knocked from his lungs. Forcing him to gasp for air as they rolled. A yelp of pain was released as the blade found it’s target in his right side, sinking in deeply. The pain allowed him to re-gather his wits. This was now a losing battle for him. Painfully he mustered up the strength to stand again, setting his gaze upon the man in front of him. Slowly his form changed again, the rage had subsided due to his grievous wound.“Enough!” He shouted. “I chose the wrong people.” Another deep breath cut off his words. “I am Ghada and you have proven yourself to me. I swear on my life you shall not come to any further harm.” A hand moved to his side to keep the blood to a minimum. He had remembered that pressure was the only sure thing to help him at this time. “My camp is to the north at the oasis. Join me if you so choose. It is there that I can see to your wounds” With that he turned slowly and walked off towards camp. Whether they would join him or not, he had no clue.

Aden almost couldn't believe what they were hearing. An enemy was giving in? And then inviting them to his camp? All they would need was a cup of tea and a mad hatter and it would be a gathering of the minds. She couldn't help the bubble of nervous laughter that trickled past her lips. Her voice was high and thin when she spoke, her brain still a bit shaky. "What do you think, Hadrian? Should we go trade words with the big furry guy with bloody swords?" She bit her tongue, needing to remember her place. She shouldn't be so blunt. She was sitting in the sand, her knees tucked under her, her arms pressed to her knees. Her skin was white and there were little red pools under her arms where the blood had soaked through. The bastard had ruined her dress. She was pretty sure the worst of the bleeding had stopped. The pain had dulled to a rough ache and she could hardly feel it anymore. Stupid bastard had claws. How unfair was that? She spread her fingers to inspect her own fingernails. Hardly sharp enough to kill a flea. This thought brought another little smile to her lips and she glanced up at Hadrian. "Are you alright?"

Hadrian clenches his jaw, deciding on whether or not to murder this fellow in cold blood, to thrust his brand into the small of his back and be done with it, letting his carcass dry and rot, for the scavengers to pick clean. He lets loose his tension by sighing roughly, if only to wipe off the blood of his foe on his own forearm, before sheathing his favored weapon. He goes about redressing himself in his battle-garb, which he had so stupidly removed what seemed only moments before. "We'll go with him, Miss Aden." He manages between clasping the hasps on his banded sleeve, "I need to see to your wounds, and I don't want to risk going all the way back to Gualon to see to them." His worry for her is completely evident in the crease of his brow, as he looks to her with a sympathetic frown, "I am fine, my wounds are not of the skin, My Lady." This goes without saying, his pride was more heavily damaged than her skin. His free right hand is offered down to her, to help her up and lend aid to her in the form of the comfort of a friend. He would soon follow in the footsteps of the Weretiger.

Ghada moved north at a steady pace, while blood still trickled down his side. The wound was in terrible shape, but he knew he had the supplies to take care of it back home. In no time an oasis came into his field of view. A yurt, sat near the shores of water, decorated in all kinds of animal pelts and trophies from raids. The pelts were obviously placed here to help wind proof the yurt from desert sandstorms. Picking sand out of clothing was a tedious task. Smoke billowed out of the yurt, showing that a fire pit was indeed inside. He only hoped that she wasn’t home. That she may be out on a raid of her own. To the right of the oasis sat a caravan, which has been badly damaged by the harsh conditions of the desert. As he approached the caravan he turned to see if the two had followed him. “In here you can find medicinal herbs and bandages.” It was one of the few caravans that never made it to Gualon. “Take what you need.” After speaking he to entered the caravan and grabbed a needle, thread and bandages for himself. Quickly he left the caravan and stepped into the cool water in an attempt to clean his wound.

Hadrian marches atop the sand, his stride bearing no amount of trouble from the sinking of his steps. The Warrior only nods acknowledgment of Ghada's words, before he makes way into the caravan to find the necessary tools to patch up Aden's wounds. A needle and thread is brought just in case any of the wounds are severely deep, along with bandages, cloth, and a bottle of alcohol--bourbon, by the looks of it. Once he steps out, back into the blazing sun of the desert, he makes way to wherever Aden is, settling himself down aside her. The things he brought with him are arranged before himself, as if awaiting for her approval.

Ghada was in the midst of attempting to hold the needle correctly, which in itself was no small task, when he heard her speak. A glance was given in her direction and then in the males. A silence fell for only mere moments before he spoke. “I thank you, for the offer, but I think it’s best if we keep our distance for now.” His gaze moved to her as he spoke again. “Besides, he seems to be waiting for you. I can handle this.” He added with a nod of his head. Again he moved the needle into his skin and began working at the wound. After a few moments had passed he spoke again. “What brings you two, to the desert?.” He was rather curious to know.

Hadrian clears his throat, before stating, "It would be best if she administers to your wound, Ghada. You might bring more harm than help to it, should you continue on like that." The Gladiator stretches out, leaning his back against the palm tree jutting up from behind himself. His body was sore, and he was exhausted--that bourbon was beginning to look useful in more ways than sterilization alone… "We were on a picnic, if that wasn't apparent to you before attacking us." He manages a bit of a wry-smile, lifting one leg up to cross over the other.

(ooc note, this Rp is currently on pause and not finished)