RP:A Particular Lack of Skills
To one unfamiliar with combat, this entire area might appear to be in complete disarray. Training dummies are lined up, painted with targets for a group of archers to practice with. Some more of the dummies can be seen in a large pile, torn apart with their stuffing peeking out of the fabric. The clash of swords echoes throughout, as avian soldiers being monitored by their higher ranked leaders quietly observe. Warriors that have taken the magical route can be seen with dummies given life through enchantments, firing projectiles of various elements at their once inanimate enemy. Groups of heavily armed soldiers march around a track in formation, the gleam of their polished titanium armor shining with brilliance. None of the men here appear to notice that you’re watching, a clear indication at how disciplined Schezerade’s army is.
Brynhild stands amid the training grounds as a living testament to the ancient, battle-maidens of eons gone by. Dressed in mithril half-plate, with blood red half robes to denote her red dragon heritage. Both hands grasp on to different weapons entirely. In her right, an arming sword, her left, a short spear. For a moment, the Cerulean eyed blonde does nothing but stare her avian opponent down. When he moves, Brynhild reacts with ruthless efficiency. The spear in her left hand is shoved low, between his legs and into the ground, to halt his advance. His own attack swings wildly, but is clearly out of range. Brynhild steps forward, raising the back half of her spear like a pry bar, tossing the avian off his feet and onto the floor. Where she leaps to follow him, landing her armored backside on his chest. The tip of her sword at his throat. “I yield, I yield.” His voice lashes out in worry. Brynhild laughs and stands up offering a hand to help her sparring partner up.
Brennia has done nothing but watch duels, heal those wounds if the combatants request and venture around Lithrydel between cleaning up Schezerade. The bard is still plagued with nightmares so when she does sleep, it isn’t long and that hint is a little obvious in the dark circles under her eyes. Brennia doesn’t even attempt make-up to cover that up because - who is she going to try to look good for exactly? No one. Her hair is tied up in a high ponytail today and she’s wearing another oversized knit sweater and simple black leggings. The avian is surveying Schezerade to account for things lost, ruined and whatever remains. Today, the journey brings her to the training grounds and she catches Brynhild’s impressive abilities. Brennia isn’t a fighter, herself, but she surely appreciates those skilled in it. Thedez isn’t too far behind her and silently watches as well before letting out the start of a chuckle when the avian is taken down. Brennia shoots the naga an icy look over her shoulder which causes her long hair to sway with the motion before she claps her hands and cheers. “Woo! Go Brynie!”
Brynhild gives a tug to the Avians extended hand, pulling him up and off the ground with nary more than a grunt. The spear she holds is plunged into the ground once more and she lets it go. Her left hand slaps the Avians shoulder with a chuckle. “You aren't bad, but I'm a little unconventional. We should do this again sometime.” Brynhilds thoughts are interrupted and her cerulean gaze shifts to the Naga and Brennia with a smile. “Thanks,” her voice filled with pride. “So did you come here for a little training yourself?” She eyes Brennia's exhausted appearance. “A worn out body might help you sleep a little better.”
Brennia feels her wing twitch a hair when the woman smiles at her and a warm smile is returned. “Me?” She waves a hand, “I couldn’t bring myself to strike someone. It’s just not in my blood,” a glance switches down to the back of her hand where the intricate tattoo pattern that marks her whole body tapers off. “At least, not anymore,” she strides closer to the red. “I’m surprised you aren’t one of the duelist in the tournament. I’d love to cheer you on,” her grin widens and pokes dimples in her cheeks. Her expression falls a bit when her brow quirks, “sleep? I get sleep just fine,” she lies with a shrug of her shoulders. Thedez speaks up for once, “that is why Queen Reginae tasked me to watch over Brennia. All the Flewminati attacks made her vulnerable because they knew she wouldn’t strike them.” The avian simply nods, which seems more respectful than how she used to talk to him. Sure she respected him then, but they had this unique back and forth. It’s just gone now. It's hard to imagine anyone would want to kill or arm the slender avian woman, smiling warmly and extending kindness with compassion first to all she meets standing before Brynhild… That’s politics, I guess?
Brynhild gave Brennia an awkward glance at her explanation and blatant lie. With a shake of her head she responds, “You aren't fooling me Brennia.” She'd had enough of her brushing things off. The avian would go through 'a warriors path to clear the mind.’ She begins to stride over to Brennia. “No woman should be unable to defend herself. All we need here is a little motivation. And I know just the thing. I won't take no for an answer.” Brynhilds sword is handed to Brennia, before she walks over to the wall and snags a wooden one for herself. “Use that, against me, and don't you worry about me. I'll be more than fine with just this.” Brynhild growls once at the sinister thought she has, “I'm going to change form… Into something a little more inspiring.” Those words are ominous and she gives no verbal hints. Brynhilds form shifts and changes before Brennia into the description of the forces that attacked and ransacked Schezerade. Into the villains that destroyed everything she loved. The piano. Her home. All of it gone, and the visage of such memories stands before her now. Take back your honor through this one chance. “Come at me with everything you have Brennia.” Her voice an ominous foretelling of what might happen.
Brennia feels the weight of the weapon and looks wide eyed at Brynhild, “Bryn… I-” Thedez is more talkative than usual as he chimes in, “come on. You can’t just pressure her into something she doesn’t want to.” The avian doesn’t even acknowledge what Thedez says as Brynhild changes and becomes an ogre. Kahran’s forces in Schezerade were made up of ogres, orcs and avians that followed Orra/Vermillion. Feeling her heart squeeze and the tips of her overly long tapered ears take on a pink hue, but the bard is frozen at the sight. “I… uh…” her wings rustling restlessly behind her as her shaky hands locked both her hands on the hilt of the sword. “I don’t know Bryn,” it seems that if The Red wants a reaction, then she will have to make the first move.
Brynhild in ogre form visibly waves off the nagas response. Clearly he didn't understand Brynhilds intentions. By forcing Brennia to face the past and fight, she would be able to confront it emotionally and start to let it go. All warriors knew this. Confront it Brennia. When she notices Brennia's hesitation, the ogre bounds forward with that wooden weapon grasped in a white knuckled grip. With a sneer, she hated doing this, she raises that weapon and swings it horizontally in a lazy strike towards her ribs. It wouldn't maim or knock her over if it hits, but it would certainly bruise should it collide. “Come Brennia.” The Naga would recognize Brynhilds lazy form and lack of intent, but Brennia, untrained as she is, would most likely not see this.
Brennia still doesn’t even glance to Thedez, so she doesn’t see his expression change when he realizes what Brynhild is trying to do. The naga takes up his weapon to play along and charges for the ‘ogre Brynhild’ to allow himself to be knocked aside by her charge, thus, leaving Brennia wide open. Teal eyes go wide again and she drops the weapon as she starts to rapidly back up in attempts to get away from the fight being brought to her. Thedez pretends to be knocked out on the other side of the grounds and Brennia begins to beat her wings, trying to fly away. They don’t seem nearly as large when they are folded so close to her body, but when she opens them up and they catch the lights to beautifully reflect hues of dark blues and greens, it could be a little hypnotic. With only two beats of her wings, she’s lifted off the ground at an impressive speed while inadvertently kicking up dust in the forced air, but the blow lands at her hip during her ascent and Brynhild has a good chance to grasp the avian by the ankle and pull her back to the ground.
Brynhild wanted to smile when she caught the Naga giving into the ploy. And held back with her counter blow to keep from seriously injuring him. Brennia's attempt at escape is met with more convincing role play. Brynhild latches on to the Avians ankle, even through the kicked up dust, with the brute strength of an ogre, pulling her back down to earth with monstrous fervor. Luckily when the two come down, they are nearby that dropped sword again. Brennia would be able to snatch it and defend herself. With a roar that might shake the foundations of Brennia's sanity -spittle flies freely perhaps splattering Brennia in the face, dies she once again continue the fight. This Ogre was going to kill her or at least Brennia might believe so. That wooden weapon is raised once more, this time to lash out at Brennias wings - to injure them enough that she can no longer fly, until she is healed.
Brennia lets out a yell as her ankle is grasped and she's pulled back down until shes a crumpled mess on her back. The avian is breathing heavily and trying to scurry backward on her elbows when she feels something hard under her arm. It's the sword! While she had been trying so scoot away while on her back, the large sweater had slipped from her because the make of it had to have a v cut in the back to allow her wings comfortable protrusion from her back. This was lucky since it is hindering to her movements and with her left hand, she grasps the sword to block the strike from the wooden sword and with a much might as she can muster, she trusts the wooden sword away from herself so she may stand up again. Left in a form fitting black tank top and her black leggings. The Red can see how lithe the woman is, save for her hips and chest, and how the avian’s caramel toned skin is indeed covered by that intricate tattoo pattern from her neck on down, but it also kisses her hairline. She’s still shaking like a leaf, but her wings stay up high and arched like a bird on the offence.
Brynhild noticed the struggle Brennia was having. Saw that she was shaking, visibly. This wasn't the time to let her ruse down. Right here and now, Brennia needed to attack her, with everything. It was the only way that she would realize that she is capable. The soldiers had all stopped training, watching this fight with curiosity. Perhaps Brennia has never before been seen swinging a sword around? With one more push Brynhild moves forward again snatching a table that happened to be at their side. It's simultaneously launched into the air above Brennia to block off her flighty escape, while that weapon sails in hopes to collide with Brennia's midsection.
Brennia feels an urgency about herself to move from under the friggin table! What, even!? It is just then, Brennia feels it. Panic brings it on and that intricate tattoo pattern flickers on her skin, as if curling in on itself above her supple skin. ‘Crap, crap CRAP!’ Is this -really- going to happen all over again where she loses control? Then she has to temper this power once more to just leave her alone and stop?! Brennia uses her wings, alright, but not in the sense that Brynhild expects. With a slight crouch and a push off the ground with the balls of her feet while using force from her wings, the avian effectively executes some sort of flash step to bring herself right into the ogre's attack while holding up the sword to block it. A slight hum coming from the bard can be heard, but what Brennia starts doing is sending out a steady note to reverberate against any and all things which is acting as a sort of sonar. This way, Brennia can feel the next attack if she doesn’t necessarily see it.
Brynhild let loose a proud smile. No matter what Brennia had done in the past, like losing control, this is what was needed. There would be no more strikes against her. She finally charged in and met the British ogre head on. Brynhilds disguise fades and switches back into her humanoid shell. A single hand raises and pulls Brennia into a hug. Even if it's awkward. She whispers once “I'm so proud of you.” Just between the two of them. “You finally stood up for yourself.” A glance is given to the surrounding soldiers and then Brynhild let's go. The threat is completely gone. “Seek out Emilia, and join her clan with me. I will take the time to teach you any weapon you choose. I promise, no more ogres.”
Brennia is surprised by the sudden contact and Brynhild might feel how rigid the avian was before she melts into the hug, but as usual, the wings follow suit in their velvety softness. Brynhild’s favorite scent may be intensified by the bit of sweat making the avian’s supple skin dewy and she can feel how heavy the woman is breathing, but when the hug finally Breaks, Brennia’s cheeks, neck and ears are flush. Inside, Brennia is just relieved that The Red didn’t notice her ink flickering because that is just… a long story. “Just… be patient with me Bryn? I can’t justify striking someone. Maybe I can just learn more defensive abilities,” she said softly and she looks drained. “I think… I am going to head to the hot springs.”
Brynhild nods once, "I can be patient with you and you'll never be required to strike, but I will ask you to defend yourself and meet their attacks head on, like you just did." Brynhild moves over to the Naga and nudges him with her foot, letting the protector know it was over. "Thanks," she whispers to him. "Enjoy the hotsprings, Brennia. I need to clean up around here." With a nod the Dragoness sets off to help the training grounds.
Brennia starts to head out, but stops and turns to Brynhild again, “and Bryn… Thank you.” A subtle smile curves her full lips before she picks up her sweater and leaves the area.