RP:Corbin Gives Kuzial a Knuckle Sandwich
Dirt Road
Dust rises in a golden shimmer as your feet tread along the widened path. To the east looms the elven village of Kelay, built into the forest so as to become one with it. The dense foliage blocks the view north, but you can just make out an older building through the trees southward. The great Xalious Mountain range dominates the western view, a pass cutting its way through the lower foothills below.
A Beetle named Stabitha is here.
Kuzial stalks through the town of Kelay, glaring at any citizens who happen to glance in his direction. Since meeting Kirien in the depths of Trist'Oth, the drow has been in foul mood. God damn elementals and their interfering ways. Unconsciously the languid warrior's hand clenches the dark hilt of the whispering E' et-Nilah Blade; bound to Kuzial by hell-forged chains, by hate-filled circumstance. A growl comes from him, then, and he speaks to the weapon in a voice which is euphonious and lyrical, stark contrast to the hideous words which usually come from his ebon mouth. "We give denizens of this damned world cause to tremble and flee when they hear the name of Kuzial and his sword... We are one... This world has deserted us... it is time again to give it reason to hate us!" The rest of his words are quiet and muttered, though even when speaking to the weapon his smouldering scarlet eye never stop roaming back and forth. He is like a hunting animal, ready to strike at any who threaten him... or any who look good to eat.
Corbin lives in Kelay, you know. In a house right over there with his parents. Mom stays home all day and does stereotypical mom things while Dad works in the mines. Not rich. Not poor. But comfortable enough to afford material for the new duds the boy is wearing today! So what if Mom took an old bedsheet and sewed it up to look like dark blue robes for her son? So what if that pointy hat is made of an old pant leg? A mother does what she has to do when it comes to making her son happy. And boy oh boy is this boy happy! Wand and all, he too stalks through the town of Kelay. There is no glaring, though. Yet! You never know about kids. "Woah..." The boy stops when Kuzial is spotted. Crazy men talking to themselves and their weapons should be avoided. Sane people would avoid them. Experienced people would avoid them. This is probably why Corbin runs right up to him, keeping one hand on his hat so it doesn't fall off. "Your sword is awesome!"
Kuzial stops dead in his tracks when he sees the young human running towards him with all the vehemence of a puppy chasing its tail... Kuzial hates puppies. But nevertheless, he doesn't react with typical violence when someone is near him, instead, in an altogether atypical move for a drow, he simply glares; the single scarlet eye promising death and dismemberment if the young boy is foolish enough to attempt to touch either himself or the blade. Satisfied this will probably not happen, Kuzial snorts as he eyes the boy's clothes up and down, before he speaks in a voice as hollow as cold wind blowing through a graveyard. "You like my sword, do you? It tells me it likes you also... it thinks your hat is... terrific." It's clear Kuzial is rather unused to saying any words which even slightly resemble a compliment. "It tells me," He cocks his head to the side for a moment, as if listening to whispered words, before nodding, "Yes, it tells me that it wants me to introduce you to it... would you like to meet my sword?" He attempts a friendly smile, then. Clearly his face is not made for such things.
Corbin doesn't dare touch the stranger. You don't just go around touching people's things! That one time he nearly got his hand bitten off for attempting to pet this guy's llama. It was all sorts of chaos. There was yelling and pleading for forgiveness and that sound a llama makes. Luckily, the boy got away with only a bit of llama spit in his eye. That same eye is peering at that sword in awe. "It is the coolest sword ever made..." he breathes out in barely a whisper. Kuzial heard it, though. Just look at those ears! Pretty drow ears. "Oh!" The boy comes out of his trance and perks up with a wide grin far less forced than the drow's smile. "My mom made my hat! I bet she could make one for you and your sword too!" Because swords totally wear hats. He nods enthusiastically, making the hat flop and lose its point. "I never had a sword before." And he bounces a step back, swishing his wand around like -stab!- -stab!- -stab!-
Kuzial spends a long time simply staring at Corbin, thinking back through the centuries to when he too was just a young child. Beaten mercilessly by his sisters and the matron of House Stavret. A slave to them for a decade, followed by servitude and sorrow in the schools which train drow warriors. He decides then and there, after but a moment in the young magelings company, that the drow have the right way of raising young. Beat them senseless so you can replace what was there originally with proper sense. Idly he ponders giving this lesson to the child, seeming to be in a battle against enemies only he can see, before, with a slight shake of his head and ignoring the boy's earlier words about his weapon, he speaks again. "I would face down a demon of the dark with nothing but a toothpick before I let your... mother..." he spits the word, "make a hat for me. What the hell is wrong with you, boy? Do you not know who I am?" Kuzial is unused to this treatment. Generally people avoid him like the plague.
Corbin hops around, fighting his invisible foe until that final thrust is made. "Haah!" One hand pushing his hat back on his head properly, he straightens all proud like for conquering the beast. How the heck do wizards keep their hats on anyway. Must be some sort of magic. He turns back to Kuzial and laughs. "How would I know who you are? I just met you." He shakes his head. Some adults are so silly. And then it hits him. He stills for a moment before lifting those big brown eyes up to stare at the drow. "You..." This man with his sword and spitting words. "... can fight demons." Shimmering eyes have never shimmered so shimmeringly as they are right now. "With a toothpick!?" The boy takes a slow step forward, closing the gap between himself and Kuzial. "You are the coolest ever!" Robes fly everywhere as his arms are thrown in the air with excitement. "Will you teach me to fight! I wanna fight demons! I'll be all 'back off demon! this guy taught me to fight!' and the demon will be all 'onoes I'm scared!' and I'll win!"
Kuzial again is brought to a stunned silence by the young child's words. For just a moment he closes his eye, letting his other senses draw in the sounds and smells around him. If someone was planning on killing the drow lord, this would be how to do it. But he senses nothing out of the ordinary... beyond the child himself, who is quite far from what Kuzial would consider normal. As his single gaze again opens, he notices Corbin taking a slow step towards him. Instantly Kuzial follows the motion but in reverse, ensuring there is distance between them both. That would be just like Kasyr, or some other idiot trying to get him. Make themselves look like a child then try to kill him. Fools who cannot face him blade to blade! This thought causes a dark scowl to be born on ebon features, which is broken only by the last words Corbin speaks. "First, many know me and I have no idea who they are. I kill people... frequently... or I cut a piece off them and eat it before their eyes." This almost causes Kuzial to gag; god damn furballs! But he doesn't; he carries on in those same tones. "Secondly, idiot child, I cannot teach you to fight. Clearly you've decided to go down the queer path of throwing pretty lights at other people," He motions with his hand, the move unconsciously languid even for such a simple gesture. "Those who do so cannot face demons. They instead prefer to hide in towers reading books and telling each other how amazing they are. Fools, all of them. Just like you."At that, Kuzial reaches behind his back and draws forth a well-crafted dagger, engraved with the insignia of House Stavret: Two huge spiders circling a blind drow female. "You couldn't even stop me stabbing you... go ahead, try it." With that, Kuzial lazily extends the dagger in a thrust at the boy. If he doesn't move, Kuzial will stab him in the face - though the blow intentionally isn't delivered with the dark elf's usual quick surety.
Corbin wrinkles his nose. Not because Kuzial kills people. Not because he cuts them up. Not because he eats them. "You don't even cook it first?" Gross. Can't you get diseases or something from eating raw people? The boy's face puzzles over for a second as he wonders what people taste like. What a weird guy! That puzzle face quickly saddens. "I can learn to fight! I don't even know how to read!" That little bit of information probably won't win the boy any points, but it does make him take a step back. Convenient steps of convenience place his foot right on the back of his robe for even more convenient stumbles of young mageling toppling. Yet to the untrained eye, this little maneuver looks like a purposeful avoidance of that well-crafted dagger. Corbin turns oh so slightly, just enough to watch that dagger slip by his nose. His eyes cross as they both try to look at the insignia at the same time while regaining balance. "You have the best weapons." Ah ignorance. Such sweet bliss.
Kuzial lifts his single eye to the sky, before speaking in the drow tongue, "If any of you Gods are doing this to punish me, I swear on the souls of every follower you have that I'll climb up that ivory tower which separates you from mortals and cut your heads off out one at a time, before pissing down the opening!" That said, he looks back at Corbin. His face is dark, cold, and any sense he might have been impressed by the child's evasion of face-stabbery, be it skill or the whims of fate, isn't shown in his dark look. "Think before you speak, idiot child. You think I'm going to cut off some god damn feline's tail, then ask her to stop flailing around and crying long enough for me to light a fire, roast it, then stand and tell her to pretend nothing had happened so I can make my threats while I devour the flesh?!" He draws in a sharp breath. "What the hell is wrong with you?! You can't even read?! Were you dropped on your head?!" Kuzial's grip on the dagger is causing white mountains to appear on his ebon flesh where knuckles strain against the incarceration of skin. "I kill demons, I kill children... I'm starting to wonder which one you are." As he speaks his muscles grow tight, as if he's straining not to just to leap forth and cut the kid's head off. "Tell me your name. I swear to all the Gods benevolent and malevolent that if you're some kind of freakin' demon sent to punish me with your stupidity, your's will be the first head which rolls across the ground!"
Corbin really shouldn't tell lies. Of course he can read! He learned at a very young age. That is just what mothers do when they stay home with their children. They teach their children to read and make costumes for whatever whimsical thing might be happening that day. Or. You know. Beat them. Whatever. What Corbin's mother has never done is look at him the way this drow is now. So angry. So full of violence and hate and ew he eats cats too? Instead of asking about furballs, he does the most sensible thing he has done since approaching this very dangerous man: he shows fear. "I'm not a demon. I'm just Corbin." Now this fear doesn't make him flee or cower or (gods forbid, how embarrassing) soil himself. The fear just forces him to use a little restraint. No sudden movements. No loud noises. His wandless hand reaches up to his scrawny throat and then drops as he takes a breath and uses the bravest, most confident voice he can muster considering the circumstances. "I just wanna know how to fight."
Kuzial spends a long moment staring at this child. The ocean of anger within him is almost a tangible thing between them, filling the air with sparks of danger and death even as it threatens to entirely drown the drow's reason. But with a snarl as he slams the engraved dagger back into its sheathe and speaks again in a voice tight with supressed emotion. “Corbin... stupid name.” The last two words are muttered. “You want to know how to fight? Take off the dress and ridiculous hat. Only idiots wear stupid pointy hats, and if I ever see anyone else wearing one, I'll cut their damn head off and use the point to stick it back in upside down.” He nods, then. “Go get your mother to make you a set of armour, and then come back. Get rid of the twig you call a wand and... here.” In a gesture of true benevolence, the dark elf pulls forth a different expensive looking dagger and tosses it on the ground before Corbin. “Practice using that instead... preferably on your friends... And if when I next see you you're looking less ridiculous, I will teach you how to fight.” After a slight pause which thankfully he doesn't spend contemplating too much on this child, he carries on. “But if you disappoint me, I will hunt you down, find your parents, kill and eat them in front of you, before chopping you into tiny little pieces and feeding you to my beetle. Do we have an agreement?” The drow remains motionless after he speaks. He is sure he will regret this; usually he just kills people who piss him off. Or people who don't piss him off. Or people who aren't even people – he takes great pleasure in chopping down trees, even. Yet, the young mageling threw him entirely off with his ignorance, and childishness, and, until the last, lack of fear. He will blame that when explaining his actions later... probably to a special friend while he lays back on a couch in a comfortable office, if this first encounter is any indication.
Kuzial gave 1 jewelled dagger to Corbin.
Corbin drops his wand -which was just a plain stick with no magic at all- and picks up the dagger, knowing just which friend to practice with. Ahun is very strong and won't have any problems with fighting. Dagger in one hand, the other pulls off that hat of his. "Dagger!" He drops the hat and holds the dagger up in the air with both hands like some sort of He-man or Thundercat or someone else with better abs than himself. "It needs a name! I'll call it... Knuckle Sandwich! Yeah." Such a fierce name! He has a little trouble swinging the blade, being so tiny and all. "Don't worry. I'll make you proud!" Maybe out of accident or foolishness, he swings his dagger at the drow.
Corbin gave 1 Knuckle Sandwich to Kuzial.
Kuzial watches the young human wave the dagger around with a dark look on his ebon face. Regret, so rarely an emotion which troubles this drow, yet he cannot help but feel its touch now. Nevertheless, he offers a twisted grin at the name, finding it somewhat appropriate. "A fine name. You can cut their hands off and force your enemies to eat them." This amuses Kuzial to no end. So much so his gaze isn't on the young warrior-to-be when he swings his dagger, and the viciously sharp edge slices across a gap in his chainmail leggings, causing a deep cut to begin to leak sluggish blood. The shock of pain snaps his gaze quickly down, yet he doesn't respond with vicious anger, nor does he simply cut the idiot child's head off. Instead he speaks in a voice which is rich in cruelty. "Attacking me when I'm not looking." The drow lowers a hand to run it through the blood, before flicking it off to the side. "Perhaps there is some hope for you after all..." He appears like he's about to leave, before he erupts into quick movement. He steps forward quickly, grabbing Corbin's wrist as he does. He easily has the strength to twist the limb around, until the sharp end of the dagger is less than a hair's breadth from Corbin's eyeball. There he pauses while he whispers in a voice colder than the grave and sharper than sin. "But if you ever draw my blood again, I will finish this strike here... so you only have one eye to watch me butcher everything you've ever loved." The dark elf tenses for a moment, as if he's going to kill him anyway, before he releases the child with a slight shove, "You go stab your friends. Or your parents... that's a good way to become a demon slaying warrior. I have things to do and you've wasted enough of my time."
Corbin freezes when that dagger meets flesh. He's never really cut anybody before and he isn't quite sure Kuzial is the one he should be practicing on. He barely has time to yelp before he nearly takes a Knuckle Sandwich to the eye. "I promise." The boy stumbles from the shove, slight as it may be, and he gathers all his things. Practice and armor and somehow he's gotta figure out how to get that dark skin like his new teacher! "What do I call you?"
Kuzial doesn't bother answering Corbin's question. He was sure the young mageling/warrior could ask anyone who the rather angry dark skinned warrior with far too many weapons was... they would know. Instead he turns and stalks off, his movements only a shade awkward due to his new injury... one that mixes with a thousand scars which already stain his dark skin. And in the depths of his mind, he cannot help but hope Corbin trips over and stabs himself with the dagger... that would be a story he could tell others. Stabbing without even being there... the thought of it is almost enough to improve his mood... almost.