RP:A New Recruit
Synopsis: Answering a response to one of their posted fliers, Aarika and her trainee Henry meet with a strange man named Trent, whom had been looking for work. After a sparring test with a Faerie dragon named Solas, Trent is admitted into The Steel Collective.
Date: 04-26-2018
The Whalers' Bar
The Whaler's Bar is a well-loved destination in Cenril, and at any given time the sound of raucous laughter and the buzz of talk will be audible from outside its walls. Inside will often reside any number of individuals from all races and walks of life, as the owner has made it clear that all are welcome within his tavern. It is a space especially beloved of the fishermen and sailors who frequent Cenril's shores, and has the sort of worn homeyness that can be expected from such a haunt. The building is made of sturdy oak, though the interior is dingy from time and innumerable patrons. The original dark stain is faded and scratched, especially on the floor, but despite its flaws the Bar is kept cheerily lit by lamps. The bar itself is narrow, pitted and glossy, and at the end of the day finding a seat along its length can be a difficult thing. So too is the task of cleaning made difficult by day's end, and no matter the attempts made at wiping spills and sweeping the floor, surfaces are often dingy and sticky -- not that the regular clientele cares about such trite things as tidiness. Indeed, various old trophies from local sailing legends line the walls in a cluttered display and it usually smells of seawater, sweat and fish. Assuredly The Whaler's Bar is a scarred, beat up bar, but to hear the locals tell it there is no better place for a drink after a long day in all the port cities in the land.
Aarika was the first to enter the Whaler's bar though it wasn't her arm that opened the door. The bright burning sun flashed though the doorway behind her silhouette and then the frame of another that towered over the petite Matriarch. Aarika thanked Henry as always from over her shoulder as she led the way towards Darius, her boots sounding sharp little taps with each stride. She was short and lean with blond hair that was braided away from her face. Her oceanic gaze scanned the room while her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the tavern. Henry on the other hand studied the bottles displayed behind the barkeep. "Ale and a whiskey." He ordered while his hand dipped into his pocket to pay. "Two whiskey." Aarika corrected lifting her pointer and middle finger, "Please." She offered Henry a smile paired with a shrug, "What? You're not going to make me drink alone are you?" She teased playfully before her attention returned to the movements of the bartender, now it was Henry who observed the room...until his ale and whiskey were served.
Trent would not be too far behind the newly arrived, having taken his lunch break a bit earlier than usual. It was not exactly a busy day down at the dock, and there were more pressing matters to attend to. Silver encased digits pushed upon the tavern door and leather clad stranger entered without caution. He had been here plenty of time and shared many drinks with those he once called friend- Most now ghosts of his past. A few days prior, Trent had stumbled upon a flier regarding some sort of mercenary work and made sure to send out written word to the author about his interest. Being a dockhand had been a safe venture for the most part. It was calm and allowed him time with his thought, but at the same time, it was woefully boring. Perhaps something new would give him the ability to push his limits, to travel to new and exciting places in search of memories long lost. If anything, it might help him take his mind off of it all. Once that gaze of blue steel focused through the dim lighting of the tavern, Trent made the first part of his venture toward the bar for his usual- Water. He wasn't much of a heavy drinker. From here, he would scan the room for his potential employer, not quite realizing how close she had been the entire time. Once Aarika and her companion had been officially noted, Trent made an approach and asked the pair, "Are you the ones whom are hiring?"
Aarika had claimed her chipped glass and carefully brought the rim to her lips in one fluid motion where she would merely taste the contents before cradling the beverage in the nook of her arm. Henry however was not a creature of grace and this was obvious as he gulped down his amber brew, most the liquid made it's way to his stomach while some dripped upon the linen of his shirt. Trent's voice however caught the pairs attention. Aarika twisted towards the spell blade with a polite smile while Henry lifted a finger as he continued to obey his thirst, " Depends who's asking." She played harmlessly while her eyes roamed of his frame. He seemed to come from a good stalk though one could never judge a book by it's cover. "Any good with a sword?" She inquired returning her gaze to meet his with a tilt of her head. "Have a thirst for adventure over ale?" She snorted before Henry finally joined in on the conversation after a victorious sigh, "Hot out today." Was his statement as the mug met the bar with a clank, "Henry." The mercenary extended his arm before his matron followed suit, "Aarika."
Trent 's eyes narrowed a bit as he took in the pair that would be his potential employers. They seemed fairly laid back compared to some of the warriors he had met in his time in Lithrydel, and that had made him feel a bit uneasy. That is not to say that one isn't entitled to some leisure time, but to be so nonchalant and care free? It was just odd. Still, he really wanted work, and so the blonde haired male thought he ought to give them a chance. "I might be." he replied to her question about his ability with a weapon. "I don't really drink much ale, so I suppose." he then replied to the second question. With their arms extended, Trent took precaution and first slipped that mental hand of his, the left, into the pocket of his jacket. While it would be agreed that it was hot out, Trent never really left the thing behind. "Trent. Nice to meet you both." The man extended his free hand to shake both of theirs before he moved on to his curiosities and concerns. "So, what exactly does one do for your... outfit? What should one expect?"
Aarika took note of Trent's hand dipping into his pocket and questioned his intentions silently. When his exposed hand moved to meet hers she grasped his forearm, the traditional shake of a warrior to check if he had any tricks up his sleeve. "Trent." She echoed his name with a nod of her flaxen head, "We are a company that people turn to when they cannot or do not want to face something themselves." She paused to nip at her glass once again before crossing her arms just under her chest, "You are not forced to take every job. You may find a contract you are compelled towards or one that might challenge your morals. I don't not ask for anything you can not provide though failure is not an option. When working under the Collective you are also the face of our operations, so no behaving like a jackass." She had only had to exile one member for such disrespect under the Collectives name, when it came to work or serious manners the stoic warrior came out. "When you complete a contract you get paid. The payment is divided evenly between you and your brothers or sisters that close the contract with you." Henry nodded and interjected, "Aarika likes to run the Collective like a family, you'll work harder to protect those beside you if you care for them." His voice then moved towards Darius once again beckoning for another ale, "We have our barracks in Xalious where you can find all you need, housing, food, training yards. If you are interested I can show you the grounds and we can set up a spar to test your fighting ability. "
Trent listened carefully to everything spoken. It all seemed like exactly what he had been planning to ask in the first place. Initial observations were definitely misguided- These two were all business. "I... doubt you will have much to worry about in regards to my behavior. I am not one to take a job so lightly. If the pay is good, then my devotion will not falter. I've not had much experience working with others, so this will be something that I may need time to adjust to." The idea of individual contracts seemed to pique Trent's interest most, his next questions obviously pertaining to them exclusively. "How does one acquire these... contracts? Do you pick and choose those suitable for a job, or is there some sort of meeting place to pick and choose what you would like to do? Furthermore, I am curious if any of these contracts have ever backfired on your organization, the.. Collective- As in, do you have any sort of bounties on your own heads, or are you relatively left alone? Do the law keepers ever bother you?" Trent was still learning about how things like this operated in this land. A sip of water wet his throat as the man then moved toward the last question posed. Fighting ability. In all truth, the man had only been involved in two altercations that he could recall. One in this very tavern in which he managed to do fairly well. The other, however, left him walking with a limp for weeks, after the lycanthropes had ransacked the city. Given that these two seemed like seasoned warriors, Trent was a bit nervous that he might not be up to snuff and it would briefly show in his furrowed brow. "I am interested." he would answer. It wouldn't exactly be the end of the world if he didn't get the job, and who knows, perhaps he may learn something about his own abilities in the end.
Aarika offered up a crooked smile, "I have had one attempt on my life." She admitted fondly, which seemed a bit odd. Though it was the attack that truly connected the Collective as a family and made them a solid unit, "That didn't fair so well for the assassin." Henry's aimed a clenched fist into his open palm with a charming wink of his eye, "We protect our own die trying I suppose." For Aarika there was no greater honor then to die with her sword in hand. "That was over a year ago, no one really messes with us. I have yet to have a bounty on my head but I welcome the challenge." She grinned dealing Henry's side a soft elbow, " As for gaining a contract, I work out details with an employer and pass the job down to the Collective as a whole, those interested accept and those who aren't wait for another contract. You can do as many or as few as you like." Henry offered Trent's back a heavy slap of comradery as he claimed to be interested, "Great news! Come then let us show you the grounds and set you up a spar to test your steel, brother." He said eager for some show and tell.
Trent knew it would be a bit of a hike out toward Xalious, and so he would ask for a moment or two to go and gather his things. He would not need to go far, nor take long, as the inn was just just down the street. A few coins were placed upon the counter first, a peaceful offering for the pair to settle back and have another drink while they wait, if they so wish . When Trent finally arrives back at the tavern, he has with him a black leather satchel and a hilted sword that he carried over one shoulder. "I am ready to go when you are." he stated with a half of a smile and a nod.
Aarika met Trent's nod before they turned towards the door, Henry opened the door, as usual. Aarika would exit first, stepping out into the bright sun, then Trent before Henry would follow. The two would ask Trent a few questions here and there along the journey, like, "Where are you from? What have you been doing? Who gave you the sword? Better yet who taught you how to use it?" The small talk would continue until the Barracks were insight.
The Steel Collective Barracks
You are confronted here by large steel gates and high stone walls, upon which an array of armored stone sentinels greet the random passerby. Their gaze is affixed in some display of war, and in their grasp a variety of weapons are at the ready. From the walls themselves a patrol of scouts can be seen, looking out vigilantly across the distance. In that vantage point their job would seem obvious; approach with caution. After stepping through the guarded gate a long training yard sprawls out before you, its turf worn and faded in large swaths from the constant treading of warrior's feet. A series of lanes and hay bales that serve as an archery range occupied one side of the yard and practice dummies upon a line of posts occupied the other, where a few trainees are focused upon practicing single, devastating blows upon their inanimate targets. A few weapon filled racks of note litter the area all a-gleam for their precision craftsmanship, but blunted and scarred for their extensive use and abuse in training. Just beyond the training yard lies the larger compound, comprised mostly of the same quarried and cut stone as the fortified wall surrounding. Its grand entrance might seem more like a mead hall or a grand place of meeting. Ornately designed and colored rugs span over the center of the smooth stone floor, and several tapestries hang along the periphery of the room depicting scenes of feats and people of some importance to the organization herein. A long narrow table stands, its surface unadorned and its edges lined with empty dark wooden chairs, in the very center of the room below a candelabrum that hangs low from the ceiling and lends its light to that cast from the torches inset strategically along the large room's walls. To one side of the aforementioned table lies a doorless arched stone entryway into the dormitories meant to house the individual members. Filled with the basic necessities required of everyday life - beds, trunks, dressers, and racks- there are scant few articles sitting out of place in this common area, and the unoccupied beds lay neatly done up. On the other side of the hall sits the mess area, it's devoted staff moving about in a hurry to fulfill the needs of the Steel Collective, serving hot food at all hours of the day to hungry shift changes and guests. Finally, to the far end of the main hall, opposite the entrance, lies a hallway which contains three hard oak doors. The first door on the left is reserved for the second in command, a private room gifted in honor of their position. Straight ahead lies the door that leads to the large war room, filled with tables and chairs and maps of the realm, where the clan debriefs members on missions and assignments. Lastly, the clan leader's chambers can be found through the door on the right. All three of these aforementioned rooms carry stout locking mechanisms of steel meant to keep the would-be thieves at bay.
Trent was mostly his usual self as they wandered toward the west- Quiet, short answers. He was not much of a big talker, especially when most of the answers he would have to give were probably not what the duo wanted to hear. "I... do not know." First. "Working at the docks." Second. "I... do not know. It's a long story, really." Well, maybe it wasn't exactly that long of a story. But it had been told so many times that it felt like a long one. When they finally passed through Xalious, Trent found himself looking over the various buildings and soon to the sky above. he was reminded of the city of Avians that he still had business with. A mental note was made before they passed through the center of the village out toward where the barracks were. "Nice location." he would offer, as they made approach.
Aarika wouldn't judge him on his short answers, she barely remembered where she came from as well and that knowledge she shared with him, "Aarika found me." Henry began, "When I was younger, my village was torn apart in a raid." He didn't need to delve further into his family's massacre, "I guess my maternal instincts kicked in, not like that takes much seeing I have a set of twins on my own. You'll meet them eventually, when they aren't harassing the other members they can be found on the training grounds themselves." Aarika offered with a smile as they approached the gates. The trio passed through without any fuss, Aarika receiving shallow bows. "Yes the location is nice." She agreed over her shoulder before she would gesture about the grounds, "Here you will find bows, swords, axes..." The clank of metal nearly muffled Aarika's voice as two of the Collective faced off, "...Opponents." Henry fell behind to cheer the duo on, Aarika wondered how long it would take for Henry to join in. "Dead ahead we have bunks and the mess hall, behind you'll find our stables." Aarika extended her arm to swing one on the doors to the large hall open, She would allow Trent to go first, "So any questions....Are you hungry? She asked as the smell of food flooded her senses.
Trent had long tucked his other hand into his empty pocket, head turning to take in all of the new sights he would soon get to know. "I'm sorry." he offered Henry in sympathy. "it seems though that the relationship has been a blessing of sorts." Something akin ot a smile. "Twins? I would hazard a guess that they take after you and your love for the blade." Trent never really thought about kids. He's never had much time. What sort of live would he give them? Would he teach them how to wield weapons, or would he encourage them to travel off, far from the dangers of this world? He shook the idea from his head. "It is quite an operation. I am impressed." he said, with a fleeting glance over those currently engaged in spar. Speaking of which - "What sort of things are expected of your warriors? What sort of skill? I can not boast to be something of a well versed champion, at least not that I know of, but I am certain I could at least hold my own." A gentle shrug. "Hungry? oh. Actually, I suppose I could eat."
Aarika snickered, "Yes twins, Arius and Leralynn. I would say they take after both me and their father, Shishi. We are long since separated and they aren't really children anymore, it's crazy how fast they grow up. They will be 14 in August." She puffed out her cheeks and widened her eyes at the thought. Henry fetched himself a sword and jumped into the spar with a cackle of sorts that became muted behind the swing of the hall's doors. "As for expectations, you are expected to help and be of use not a burden. You say you can take care of your own and that's necessary." She gestured once again to the other members that went about their lives around them, "We are a team, every man for himself doesn't fly under this roof." Aarika moved over towards a table and kicked out a chair for Trent before she sank into her own seat and with a motion of her hand a very merry and very plump woman came table side, "Aarika, lovely to have you back." She greeted warmly sliding a wooden plate off meats and bread between the two before twisting towards the newcomer, "I don't believe I've see you before. Welcome!" Another hand rose and the woman waddled off to keep the Collective fed. "You know the saying, never trust a skinny cook." Aarika smirked and nudged the platter closer towards Trent.
Arius. Leralynn. Shishi. Three names immediately taken in and repeated a few times for memorization. While Shishi was not likely someone he would meet given the separation circumstances, he was certain that it would be something worth remembering at any rate. "Fourteen? You do not look as though you are old enough to have children of fourteen years. Forgive the strange observation. I do look forward to meeting them, however." When the chair was kicked out, Trent began to remove his belongings and set them upon the floor, with that leather coat being hung upon the back of the chair. Trent wore only a charcoal gray undershirt that lacked any sort of sleeves. Upon each fairly toned bicep a simple tattoo of some significance. The right, hosting three runic symbols, while the left played host to a horizontal stretch of vertical lines, and a series of small symbols over top. Around his neck hung a strange necklace with a clear crystal housed in the setting, and within an aether energy of blue. He sat immediately and rested both arms upon the table top, making sure to rest his unarmored arm over the armored as precaution. "I can do that." Trent says in reference to pulling his weight. "I am a hard worker, and if the Collective has busywork needing done, I am more than willing to do what I can." The plump woman is gifted a smile and a polite nod when she approached the table, "Thank you. Well met." is all he would say, a hint of laughter following Aarika's joke. He reached out and snatched a piece of bread, "Are there any major rules I should know about, regarding the compound? Any sort of curfews? Off limits areas?"
Aarika grinned and raised both her eyebrows as Trent complimented her youthfulness, " Trying to sweet talk me already?" She teased on the reference to her age as he slipped off his coat. His tattoos were noted and her curiosity peaked though she wouldn't play show and tell just yet, her ink was better hidden down her back. The Crystal was also spotted and she pondered the relevance of such a trinket but as he sat she finished her statement, "Elven blood helps with any aging process. Though truthfully I am still young for my kind." There was another smirk tossed his way when he mentioned he looked forward to meeting them, "Careful, they can be a bit feral." She laughed, "Though who can't be, as for rules within the grounds don't maliciously harm a fellow member or stir any unnecessary drama. Though I think that will be hard to do, everyone in the compound is lovable in their own peculiar way. No curfews and just respect each others own belongings and space. When you claim a bed and trunk, if you choose to live inside the barracks that will be your own space and no one will cross that boundary." Aarika pointed towards the three round doors at the end of the hall, "The one on the right, is mine, the middle is our briefing room and the left is for second in command..." She paused for a moment and her expression seem to sadden for a moment, "That position is open actually and since the kids have come to live with me they currently occupy that room. Those two do have rules and curfews however."
Trent tears a piece of bread with his teeth and chews slowly as he listens to his new employer. So she was of elven blood- something he had suspected, but would not actually ask about. Picking up on mannerisms or racial traits was something he was trying to learn. "Hardly. I, just... observation." He seemed a bit bashful and not quite picking up on the joke, something that he did struggle with from time to time. His former friends had tried to break him from his stoic mold, and eventually it had started to work, but with recent events, he sort of fell back into those old patterns. "I do not see any of that being an issue. I do not tend to harbor ill will toward anyone, nor do I care for unnecessary drama. I wish to avoid it, whenever possible. I just..." Trent looked down at the silver gauntlet that was now softly rapping its fingertips upon the table. "I suppose I should be transparent if I am to hope to stay here in the compound. The armor that I wear, this hand, it's unnatural, I suppose. It is sentient. As in, there are times where I can not control what it does. I try, as hard as I may, to keep it under wraps, but there are times when it gets the better of my lack of attention. It has not mortally wounded anyone, but it has lashed out. If this makes you or your troops in any way uncomfortable or cautious, I would fully understand and opt to spend my time outside of the compound when not training or working." Blonde brow knit a little, cool gaze fixated on that strange appendage as if to ask it to behave. He would give the woman time to ask any question that she may, before he would make another of his observations. "The position of second in command is open? That too is surprising, if I may say so. What of your companion there- Henry, right? You two seem close, it is strange that he would not have this position."
Aarika gave that metal appendage of Trent's a good hard stare as she listened to his words. Her expression was stoic for a bit before a smile cracked through her visage, "Well I guess it'll keep us all on our toes. Work on our reflexes." Aarika didn't seem bothered and truth be told she had very few triggers. "We will just have to make sure the others know so it's not a deadly surprise on your end." Hey oceanic gaze flicked from his arm back to his eyes, "If you don't mind me prying...What happened, why do you have that thing?" She would wait for his reply before answering his own question, "Henry...? Henry is usually always with me and is biased to my opinions and views. I try to keep the Collective as fair as possible. Besides, if he is always with me and something happens then that's both the Matron and the second in command gone in one fatal swoop." There was a raise and fall of her shoulders, "If that makes any sense? Maybe you can work yourself up to that position some day?" Her hand waved through the air once again and here came the pleasant kitchen hand, "Ma'am?" Her brown eyes scanned over the table and noticed they still had plenty to eat, "Could we get a bottle of whiskey and some water?" Aarika asked as she recalled his drink of choice from the Whaler's bar, but she ordered a bottle of the hard stuff just in case he changed his mind, plus she expected Henry's return, he seemed to always know when he was talked about.
Trent was still taking his time with that first piece of bread. Little by little, piece by piece, it's like he was some sort of little mouse trying to savour every bite. "Truthfully, I do not know. If my timing is correct, around three years prior I woke upon the Milous plain, between Cenril and Kelay. I woke with very few belongings; A bag, a sword, a badge, my jacket, this necklace and this... arm." Finally he finished off that slice of bread as he went through the motions of repeating this same old story. "I know no one across the land, and no one knows of myself or my origin. There have been minor clues here and there. Some sort of ties to dark forces, to the long abandoned clan the Forsaken Knights, and some tower north of here, buried in the Xalious Mountain. Strangest yet, I have woken upon that plain two more times since then, with considerable amounts of time having passed. The latest was only a few months ago." Trent shrugs. "I know through some investigation that I am bound to the arm, and it is bound to me. Some sort of curse as it were. Otherwise, I am just as in the dark as you are." There is a bit of a chuckle, the hopelessness of the idea holding some sort of humour within. There was no sense in being sour about it, right? Switching topics, Trent lowers his head in a nod. "Ah, I can understand that. I would suppose you need someone who can stand on their own, or someone that can challenge your own ideas now and again. It's pretty intelligent, I think." Trent finally offers an honest smile. One not hidden behind serious contemplation. "I suppose that if I am able to prove my worth, I could one day work toward that end." When Aarika orders drink for the table, Trent looks up to the woman summoned and offers a polite, "Thank you."
When Solas arrives into the mess hall, Aarika would call the miniature faerie dragon over and arrange a spar between he and Trent out in the training yard. Both parties agree and head outside to test one another's combat abilities.
The Spar
Solas flitters to and fro. Most especially fro, but not exclusively fro, for to was also in the mix. Fro was his primary flitter pattern, but not his exclusive pattern. That being said, he stops flittering both to and fro when he notices the human, and a wide sort of grimace that is most likely a grin spreads across his tiny dragon face. Seeing such a tempting target, he cannot stop himself from having a bit of fun. He titters, and breathes deeply whilst summoning a bit of magic. He exhales, and as he does so a dense, churning fog rises from the ground and fills the entire area. Soon the ground is entirely hidden, and the dragon is not done. Producing a singular scale stolen from a Frostmaw dragon, Solas calls forth it's power. Unknown to all, the ground beneath the fog ices over until it is nearly impossible to walk upon. Lastly, the little dragon opens wide his maw once again and unleashes upon the poor Trent a torrent of multi-colored, sparkling light, the breath weapon of his species. The effects vary, depending upon the target, however most are bewildered or confused, and some get violently ill. Some shrug off the effects, but the little dragon's true intent is to have the man slip and fall while he watches.
Trent isn't exactly sure as to what he was expecting for his first official spar. Surely, it would have been someone of his own skills- That is to say lacking any sort of viable magic and a keen specialty in hand to hand weaponized combat. However, this was not the case. Instead, it was some sort of small species of dragon that Trent had never seen before. He steps into the sparring arena with his weapon of choice, a crimson colored blade, and takes the hilt in both hands to ready himself for whatever the miniature dragon initiates. To Trent's surprise, before he can even react to Solas' first attack, there seems to be a struggle within himself, with the weapon in hand. The rune lined silver gauntlet of his left hand tugs and pulls against the will of the right until it is in sole possession of the blade. Suddenly, without warning, the weapon is whipped to the side and released, causing it to strike the side of the compound with great force where upon it shatters into hundreds of little pieces. "What are you doing?!" Trent demands from the gauntlet, knowing full well it was unable to speak. In all this time, Solas' attack has already been sent out and Trent is unable to act in defense. The faerie light happens upon him and he falls backward, his boots lacking grip against the icy surface at his feet. Upon landing on his backside, Trent frantically tries to scramble, finding it extremely difficult to right himself. The gauntlet, with it's talon sharp digits, suddenly plants itself into the icy ground and gives the human some sort of anchor to carefully right himself. "Alright, so this... should be interesting." he murmurs, looking around for Solas through the rising fog. The runes on the forearm of Trent's gauntlet soon begin to light up one by one in an azure glow, with the one in the palm burning brighter than the rest. The fingers weave and twirl, causing a vortex of fog to lift from the ground and swirl around the metal appendage, before Trent's arm shoots out toward Solas' position. The vortex of fog ignites in blue flame, intended at best to knock the miniature dragon back and give the man and his sentient hand time to formulate a plan.
Solas was watching with mouth wide open as the man's sword is shattered, obviously amazed. The amazement fades quickly, replaced by mirth as Trent falls beneath the fog. His guffaw is interrupted, however... perhaps it is less a guffaw and more of a guff? The flames lance towards him, eliciting a fearful "Fweeeeee!" as he dives into the fog and lays as flat as he can upon the conjured ice. Luckily he realizes he is still holding the remnants of the ice dragon's scale, and manages to coax just a bit more magic from it, causing small wall of ice to rise up between the Faerie Dragon and the oncoming fire. In an explosion of blue fire and steam, he is thrown end over end until finally he is left in a pool of water. His body is literally steaming, and the pain elicits a sad, "Ooooh." sound. Then he rises skyward, looking down upon the area. He casts another spell, an intricate and spidery language accompanied by arcane gestures. For a moment, nothing seems to happen. Another bit of magic and the dragon glows brightly, and he dances, and while he does so the practice dummies stand and grab blunted weapons from the racks. Three of them silently walk towards Trent while the dragon dances and preens hoping to distract long enough for the man to receive a nice bludgeoning.
Trent was just as amazed as Solas was. This was perhaps the first piece of combat in which that blasted arm actually made itself useful. "Where were you in Cenril?" the man muttered, temporarily distracting himself from the task at hand. Looking now for the small reptilian opponent, Trent figures out exactly where he had been ducking out as that ice wall lifts from the fog below. A few careful steps forward and Trent is ready for another attempt at striking the creature. When Solas began to dance, Trent could only stop and watch on, wondering what in the Gods names that the thing was doing. Was this a spar or some sort of dance contest? In this bout of confusion, Trent was quite unaware of the now animated training dummies heading in his direction. He would become well aware once that first blunted weapon struck his bare arm. "OW! WHAT THE!" he called out, shifting his stance. Again the runes on the gauntlet began to light up, that same azure glow starting to encase the metallic arm from elbow to fingertips. A flame, much like the last, erupted along the length of the gauntlet and soon extended a foot out from the now balled up fist, tapering off in the shape of a sword. The gauntlet is quick to act by meeting the blow of another dummy's weapon, cleaving it in two. Trent however, suffers another blow against the shoulder, causing him to back peddle to try and get out of the dummies reach. Almost as if it were instinct, Trent's gauntlet launches forward and clefts one of the dummies in half, before forcing the human to backspin and diagonally slice another of the animated attackers. The third dummy was then grappled and gripped with those talon like fingers on its head, and with inhuman force, whipped at Solas in a somewhat defiant manner.
Solas watched long enough for the dummies to attack and then turns his eyes away, for he was still sizzling from earlier. Unaware of anything that happened after the first attack, he had been in the middle of rubbing down his scales which had been singed badly despite the water when the thrown dummy strikes him soundly. Unable to fly with the weight of it upon him and also struggling with it because apparently his spell didn't specify NOT to attack small dragons, they both plummet to the ground below. They land with a thud, the last of the animating magic dispersing as Solas struggles up from beneath it. Realizing he is way to close to the much stronger man, the dragon casts yet another spell. Ropes emerge from the many gathered supplies, simple rope, but they move together and begin weaving themselves into a large and formidable net. The net launches itself at Trent, and a trailing bit slithers towards Solas. The dragon holds up a single digit, upon which is a tiny flame. As the net threatens to trap the man, the dragon lights it on fire. Should he find himself caught for any length of time, he might regret it.
Trent is starting to rather like this newfound ability that had been thus far dormant. Perhaps having a cursed appendage wasn't all bad, although it felt really strange to be battling with his left hand, rather than the right. After all, being right-handed felt more natural for some reason. When Solas was struck by the dummy, Trent actually grinned in excitement. It seemed so far the pair were pretty good at exchanging tit for tat, and it made for a pretty entertaining spar. Hopefully entertaining enough for the new employer to accept him as one their own. These idle thoughts let Trent's guard down and he was not exactly prepared for the net to be thrown, meaning he is subsequently ensnared. Mild annoyance turned to panic as the heat of the flame kisses his flesh, and begins to spread over the net quite quickly. Trent struggled and writhed, falling to the ground to fight the netting, the gauntleted hand once more having to act to bail the human out of trouble. The razor sharp fingers began to slice at the strands of rope like a knife, cutting the weaving as quickly as it could so that the blonde haired male could get free. By the time Trent was out, his shirt had been scorched fairly badly, and he had suffered multiple burns along his abdomen and bare arms- The pain quite evident in his face. The gauntlet faced itself toward the still burning net, fingers splayed open with the symbol in the palm beginning to glow. The magical essence of the flame itself begins to suction toward the gauntlet's palm until it forms a small ball of flame that is then shot toward the faerie dragon to give him a taste of his own medicine. Or magic.
Solas sniffs and crinkles up his nose, "burning human smells baaad!" he thinks as he painfully tries to straighten out his oddly-bent wing. While his species's wings look rather delicate, what with them resembling that of a butterfly, they are actually quite resilient. Not resilient enough to withstand the weight of a heavy-duty training dummy landing on him after a fall of that height, however. He stands because he is unable to fly at the moment, which is very unfortunate for him... what with a fireball flying straight at his face! He does the only thing he can do. As it approaches, he screams and then ducks. The fireball flies past him, which would have been a relief if it didn't then explode. The force of the blast sends the small creature skyward with a "Bwaaaaah!" sound. He is airborne for just a few seconds, but that is plenty considering his inability to fly. He still spreads his wings and tries, but can only glide a bit, and not very well. He aims for the softest thing he can think of, Trent himself. He ends up thwapping into the man's chest where he clings, small claws grasping his shirt. He looks up, smiles for a moment and then says, "You're fun! I think I'll keep you!"
Trent can only laugh at Solas unusual antics. "Well battled, tiny one. It was an honor. I hope you are not injured in any severe capacity." Trent takes the time to observe his own wounds, noting some superficial, but nothing too dire. Some ice and rest should have things right as rain! With the battle concluded, Trent gently pries the faerie dragon from his shirt and sets him on the fencing of the sparring area, soon making his way back toward the compound to grab himself something to drink. Sparring is thirsty work!
After the Spar
Aarika and Henry had watched the spar intently, eyes darting back and forth from one opponent to the other. They would share a few words here and there but when the fight concluded Solas and Trent both received a round of applause, "Very nice." Aarika called out to the pair, "You both seem able to think on your feet and hold your own. I'm happy to welcome you both into the Collective." She smiles, waving a hand towards the mess hall inviting them both to wet their whistle.
Trent was busy taking a survey of the damage sustained, picking at bits of burned flesh while wincing every now and again. The shirt upon his back was sufficiently ruined, with holes and char all over the place. Trent sighed, looking then toward there the gauntlet had thrown his sword, wondering why exactly the thing had managed to shatter. It looks like he was correct in the initial assumption that the thing wasn't really much used for combat. If that were the case, then why did he have it in the first place? "Thanks, I guess." Trent answered back when Aarika's voice caught his attention. "I am not exactly sure what happened, but the little one is pretty gifted. I am sure if things were a little more serious he would have done some severe damage." Trent picked up his jacket and slipped it over his shoulders, soon taking a seat once they were in the mess hall. "I'm glad to have at least passed the test."
Aarika followed Trent inside while Henry moved to pick up the pieces of his new brother's broken sword, they could sort that puzzle out tomorrow after some celebration and relaxation. "You didn't tuck tail and run, that alone had you pass the test." Aarika smiled sincerely before she twisted towards the hall's keeper, "Water and whiskey, please." Again she ordered the two beverages. "We can get you some ointment and new clothes for the time being if you'd like." She offered while carefully poking a single finger through one of the many charred holes in his attire with a snort. "He did a lot of damage for such a cute tiny little thing." She mused as Winnie delivered their order with a melodic hum. She was gone as soon as she had arrived, the hall was fuller tonight. Aarika moved to uncork the whiskey bottle and gave her glass a splash, after she shook the container in Trent's direction, "Or do you stick with water?" She asked while placing the booze between the two before she melted in a chair opposite of him.
Trent couldn't help but shake his head as he relived the battle in his mind. "He was more trouble than I would have given him credit. In truth, it was the first time I faced off against someone that was adept with such arcane ability. Had it not been for the intervention of..." His cold gaze glances down at the metal poking out from his jacket's sleeve, "..This thing, I'm not sure I would have fared as well." With a bit of a chuckle, Trent pops a shoulder. "If you wouldn't mind, I think I could definitely use a new shirt." When the beverages were brought over, Trent immediately down his glass of water without so much as a pause. It was only with Aarika's offer that he would take a moment to contemplate before giving into temptation. The whiskey was tipped and poured, half glass, as he explained, "I suppose it would not hurt. Tonight is a reason for celebration. To... new friends, I suppose." Trent raises his glass and tips his head in toast to his new employer and her fold.
Aarika nodded and joined him in cheers before they both threw back their head just in time for Henry to see, "Oi! Not without me." He whined as he laid the crimson pieces of Trent's sword on the table before him, "Have no fear, Henry, I am capable of pouring another." Aarika teased returning her glass to the wood grain table top. Her fingertips wiped her lips before she jutted her chin towards Trent, "Fetch him some spare clothes, will you?" Henry glanced over to Trent with a smirk, "You look like a million moths got to ya." There was an amused snort before he gathered the shattered blade, well what was left of it. "Here come with me." He invited Trent to follow, "We will find you a bunk and chest." As Henry lead the way he would chat Trent up, "This is my bunk and here I store my belongings." He informed his new clans men with a kick to his trunk with a booted foot. "Feel free to take whatever you need from here until we get your situated, I figure we're the same size." While Henry got Trent settled Aarika refiled the glasses and chatted with other members in passing.
Trent seemed genuinely surprised when Henry laid to rest the shattered blade upon the table. He didn't really expect the guy to clean up his mess, but it was met with an appreciated 'thank you' regardless. One of the pieces was picked up and Trent took to look it over closely. What he originally thought was some sort of strange metal, was in fact some kind of painted resin, meaning that the blade was in fact some sort of decorative piece. This was curious in itself, because he could not figure out why anyone would carry around such an item in place of an actual functional weapon. Regardless, it was destroyed now, and most likely fit for disposal. Henry's joke stole Trent's attention, a bit of laughter escaping as he replied, "And then some." The battered man soon rose to his feet and followed Henry into the sleeping quarters, taking his time to look over the various bunks as they made their way to Henry's special little corner. "Thank you, I really appreciate this, Henry. I will be glad to purchase another to show my gratitude." The human didn't take long to root through the trunk until he found a dark colored shirt closest to black as he could, soon to change from that charred mess into that fresh article. When he was happy with the offering, the pair would return to where Aarika was seated, with Trent once again thanking the helpful clansmen. "Fits pretty well. Again, I am grateful for the kindness." Aarika would be offered a bit of a smile, as he added, "From the both of you."
The trio would spend the remainder of the night drinking and getting to know one another.