RP:Heroism And Heels

Summary: After a long day of shopping for accessories and a pair of high heels for the upcoming ball, Natianara leaves Cenril and proceeds to Kelay, where she has been renting a room for the past week. Several bags are in her hands, and upon coming to the bridge at the stroke of midnight, she pauses to take a rest. A trio of thieves had been tailing her for the last mile and they are intent on robbing the unsuspecting half elf of her gold, newly purchased goods, and perhaps even engage in some sort of foul play or inquire in Larket about a bounty on the head of any witches. The men are so certain that this will be an easy feat, though they have underestimated the qualifications of the hero that springs from the shadows and rushes to the aid of the captive woman. Kyori uses his blade on the first male who is sent running to the nearest healer, and he knocks the other unconscious, while Nat comes to her senses and attempts to take out the third. Kyori is the perfect gentleman as he helps the stranger gather her belongings, as they make their acquaintance, before they both part ways and have a safe journey home.

Natianara is heading back to her room at the tavern in Kelay, mentally scolding herself for allowing time to slip away, as it was nearing the midnight hour. The woman wears a stylish white romper, leather sandals, and has a backpack resting against the middle of her back. Piercing periwinkle hues keep a watchful eye on the shadows that seem to grow nearer with each step she takes, and were her hands not holding tightly to several heavy bags, she would be clutching the pentacle that she proudly wore around her neck. The witch was as cautious as one could be at this hour, though she naively ignored to take an occasional glance behind her, and so she has foolishly placed herself into the path of a trio of thieves. Nat’s feet ache from the foreign shoes that she’s forced to wear in these lands, and so she pauses just before the bridge for a brief rest, lowering her goods to the ground and rubbing her sore wrists. After a moment, she picks up on the footfalls of those that were tailing her, and a chill runs up her spine. “Lookit here, Boys! We found ourselves a pretty little lady! She spent ALL DAY shopping… Maybe she has some gold left in that backpack of hers?!” A meaty palm circles Nat’s wrist, and she shakes her head and tries to take a step back, but his grip tightens and she’s forced to remain still as his cronies scour the bags at her feet. “Please… Just let me go. You can have my stuff… I, I, I just don’t want any trouble.” Tears well in her eyes, as this was the first time she was ever accosted in her entire life, and she helplessly looks around the area, for a weapon or a passerby that would come to her rescue.

Kyori wasn’t lost but he didn’t know where he was either. That’s the trouble with new places; it’s easy to get turned around. That polite orc took off in this direction, at least across the bridge as far as the warrior knew, and it was the first decent lead he’d gotten since stumbling into this strange place. The man wears dirty, lightweight riding leathers and boots. Across his back is a single sword snapped securely into its scabbard. Several stones along the weapons handle blink in the moonlight, drawing attention to his position. Golden hair and sapphire eyes separate him from the backdrop of dark woods along the path’s edge. As luck would have it, he’d been bringing up the rear in this spaced out train of people heading towards the bridge, so he had a front row view of the thieves accosting the overburdened woman. His pace quickens but his demeanor does not appear rushed or ruthless. He advances into the circle of men, aiming to lock his gaze with frightened periwinkle, before calling the attention of all present. He hasn’t reached for his sword yet and makes sure to position his body so none of the men are at his backside. “Go about your business elsewhere.” His gruff, disinterested voice silenced their chatter and the rustle of her bags. The warrior survey’s the brute holding the witch’s wrist and scuffs. “I don’t think her clothes will fit you, by the by.” One of the other men draws his dagger, grits his teeth and charges. Kyori quickly pushes himself back a few paces while simultaneously drawing his sword. In an instant, the black steel weapon cuts through the air without resistance. The thief that charged him is stunned and silent. His dagger hits the ground a second later, followed by both his index finger and thumb. The man shouts in pain, balling up his injured hand in his ragged shirt. Kyori can't help but grin. Not for the bloodshed, he didn't revel in hurting anyone, but he clearly had the upper hand in the situation. "Let her go and leave with your lives."

Natianara fulfills the expression ‘damsel in distress’ as she pleads for her life, sensing the malice in the thugs intent, as well as in his grip. Fingertips begin to go numb, and were she facing only one opponent; the odds may just have been in her favor, given the blood of the wolf that runs through her veins. She was stronger than an elf or human, but defending herself against three brutes wouldn’t bode well. “Please… I-I won’t tell anyone. I promise!” Trembling, Natianara forces her gaze to lock with that of her assailant, hoping that her words would reach his heart. The woman wasn’t a fighter, that much is for sure, and she swallows hard, blinking back tears that continuously trickle down her pale cheeks. “Huh. She’s already submissive! Looks like we hit the jackpot, Boys!” A raucous laugh escapes him, though it’s cut short as his hues fall upon the pentacle. “She’s one of THEM! We should cart her arse to Larket! Maybe there’s a price on her head!?” Thankfully, it’s at this precise moment that Kyori steps into view, and were she not shaking like a leaf and in jeopardy of losing her head, Natianara would have burst into a fit of giggles at the perfectly timed pun. The carnage means little to her, as the male’s actions were an act of sheer heroism, and she dares to peer in his direction. Lips part as the male’s grip on her wrist lessens and he removes a dagger from his pocket, only to sprint in the direction of Kyori. “No! Don’t hurt him!” Hoping her warning reaches the male’s ears, she awkwardly stands rooted to the ground, watching in horror. Would Kyori be injured? The man with the missing fingers is still howling in pain, spraying her shopping bags with crimson, before he turns tail and runs in the direction from which they had come. He needed a hand… And not just the hand of a healer, either. The third stands there, continuing to rifle through her bags, as though his two buddies weren’t even in his peripheral. Upon finding a silver high heel in one of the bags, he lifts the shoe, noting that it’s an expensive find. Natianara, the kind hearted damsel, normally would allow her belonging to be stolen and let the man escape with his life. But… She had a ball to attend! And this night was –not- going how she had imagined! So, as Kyori faces off the thug with the dagger, she literally launches herself onto the others back, and aims to force him into a chokehold. “Put. That. Down. Or it’s going up your backside!”

Kyori repositions his body towards the next attacker. He’s relieved that the woman was out of that man’s grubby grasp and hoped she’d escape. Her cry is heard even though he offers no comforting words in return. Narrowed blues settle on the bumbling oaf and without missing a beat, he again executes the simple but quick maneuver of step and swing. The thief’s arm was extended, the dagger point aimed at the warrior’s ribs before the cheap metal thuds into the dirt below their feet. Kyori pivots in a blur, circling around the man’s back and tugging the dull edge of his blade against his windpipe. The thief's face turned purple and the man thrashed with increasing violence until he went limp and Kyori dropped him to the ground. He wasn’t dead, just passed out. When he looks up, the woman has positioned herself like a backpack on the remaining thief and they appear to be fighting over a shoe? No, that can’t be right. That woman wasn’t risking her life over a shoe. That was ridiculous. “Oy!” He calls to the man wrestling against the witch on his back before trotting over and watching the scene unfold with interest. That thief didn’t look particularly dangerous and the woman was holding her own against him. Who was he to step in to a fight without permission? “Miss? Need a hand?”

Natianara isn’t one of those materialistic broads that hoards overpriced articles of clothing and handbags, nor is she the type to pounce on a stranger’s back and wrestle in the middle of an often busy travel route. Had she gone mad? No. She was merely overexcited about attending her first ball, making a good impression on those that would be in attendance, and trying her damnedest to fit into this new place she was ordered to call home. Plus, she couldn’t exactly go barefoot, could she?! Nat digs her nails into the males shoulders, as her long legs circle his waist, and she continues to grumble about a ‘blue dress’ and how there was only –one- pair of silver heels left on such short notice, in her size. The male starts to come to his senses and gets a fistful of the brunette’s long locks, to which he applies a firm tug, only for her to sink her teeth into his knuckles. She doesn’t draw blood, but he sure as hell wasn’t expecting the even tempered, nature lover, to turn into such a feral beast. He drops both the shoe and the fistful of hair, simultaneously, before he goes to work on trying to budge the hold of her legs from about his middle. Those feet were coming too close to comfort to his nether region and he didn’t desire a well placed kick over a robbery gone awry. “Alright! Get off of me and I’ll go. You’re a damn pain in the ass!” He glares at Kyori, as though this was somehow all his fault, and in a graceful motion, Nat slides from his figure and approaches her hero. Keeping his word, the last of the thugs turns tail, leaving no more than some scattered bags, a puddle of blood, and an unconscious confidant in his wake. The witch is suddenly shy, standing there in disbelief over the fact that she had gone haywire over a pair of shoes, moreso than the fact that she had nearly been robbed and possibly beheaded or turned in for practicing the craft. Coming to her senses, she closes the distance between herself and Kyori and peers up at his face, giving him a slow smile, “Thank you… I’m sorry for causing you any trouble. Are… Are you hurt? My room isn’t too far from here… I can stitch you up, or help you to a healer if it’s more severe…” Her brows crease in worry as she closely inspects his form for signs of distress. “I’m Natianara, by the way…”

Kyori lifted his hand, one index finger extended, to interrupt the dance of thief and witch when she bites the other man. The warrior did his best not to laugh. It was a sight to behold. The brute looks in his direction and Kyori shrugs. They started it. Once the fight is over and the heroes are left to gather their wits, the woman approaches him like a startled doe. He blinks at her, the click of his blade falling back into the scabbard acts as an answer to her inquiry. He lifts a palm and shakes his head. “It’s not trouble,” He reassures her, amusement evident in his face. A shake of his head clarifies he’s not hurt but he holds out both hands and turns them over as proof. He’s untouched. “Natianara, I’m Kyori.” He repeats her name with casual authority before side stepping her to gather up a few of her bags. He’s careful to avoid the bag with the mate to the weaponized shoe she’s still holding. “Are you hurt?” He shifts the weight of the bag over his shoulder to optimize its weight distribution. The pendent caught his eye but he didn’t know what it meant. It was foreign to him.

Natianara finishes assessing any would be injuries, watching as his weapon is returned to its rightful place, and he turns over his palms. “Thank goodness…” She would have felt responsible for the stranger if he had gotten harmed while rushing to her aid. The adrenaline slowly subsides and she’s relieved to find that she’s no longer shaking, though she still finds it hard to form words. That was a close call, and she had assured her aunt that she would avoid trouble at all costs. It wasn’t like she asked to be stalked and mugged… Trouble just seemed to always find its way to her door. “Seriously… Thank you… Coyote….” Her mouth is dry, and she’s fumbling to say his name, as he gathers her belongings like a perfect gentleman. Smooth. He was one of the few that she had willingly offered her name, without hesitation. Heroism went a long way in her book. “I’m not hurt, I’m fine, really…” Her left wrist is already purpling from the constriction of the thugs grip, but with her enhanced healing, she would be right as rain in the morning. Drawing the attention away from any talk about herself, Nat smiles at Kyori as he holds her heavy bags, and she swings her hand to motion that she can take it from here, when she realizes that she’s still wielding the silver heel like a weapon. Wincing at the display she must be projecting, she tosses it into the bag with its counterpart and tries to stifle a giggle. “I’m such a mess! I’m so sorry, Corgi! I’m not very good with…” Shopping. Fitting in. Talking to strangers. Adulting. “Kyori… Here, I must pay you for your troubles!” Nat beams, delighted that she –finally- said his name correctly. Reaching into her purse, she aims to place a handful of gold into his hand, if he would accept payment for his services.

Kyori narrows his eyes at the woman. Had she called him Coyote? He waits, about to correct her, when she calls him another name. “Coyote? Corgi?” He repeats. She apologizes and he chuckles. “Not very good with names, Miss?” he finishes before she corrects course at last. “There’s no need.” He hadn’t intervened for payment. At her signal, he lowers the bags to the ground between them, watching curiously as she handles the goods within. Sapphire eyes study her injured wrist. Mostly okay, he decided. The gold falls into his hand and curls his fingers around the cool metal. “Thank you. Be well, Natianara.”