A New Arrival

[Blade]

Seth met Blade’s cut with a parry of quinte and riposted with a feint to the head and a cut to the side of the head that Blade only just met with tierce. Blade attempted an attack straight down on the arm after his parry but Seth retreated. Both were now a distance away and attempting to gauge each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Seth was suddenly surprised by a ballestra lunge that saw him retreating even further. Seth knew he had to counter attack. He feinted an attack to Blade’s right flank and attacked the left. Blade quickly parried prime, Seth took a step back and tried a straight cut to the head, and Blade parried in sixte and retreated.
The left-handed Seth made a compound attack, he feinted left, then right and followed with a cut to the head. Blade missed both parries and retreated barely inches from Seth’s blade. He brought up a parry of quinte to protect himself and tried an attack to the right of Seth’s head. He was short. Blade had to drop to a squat and retreat barely keeping his head intact from Seth’s counter-attack.
No sooner than Blade was back on his feet did he have to parry quinte and seconde to Seth’s quick attacks. Blade saw an opportunity, he lunged with point-in-line only just missing the retreating Seth. Seth was wary of Blade’s counter-counter-attack and retreated even further.
The short-winded Blade saw Seth was nearly as tired as he was and that somehow gave Blade his second-wind. Blade continually attacked the head as Seth parried in sixte and retreated. Blade and Seth were in a rhythm. Whoever changed their tempo first, it was vital they did it right.
Seth changed. He ducked. He gave Blade a deep gash in the right side. It was a moment of pain for Blade, as he followed through his initial attack and cleaved Seth’s head in two.

Blade sheathed his sabre. Blinded by pain and agony, he stumbled through the streets of the nearest town. No one paid him any heed. Somehow he kept going. Blade passed through towns and cities alike only half paying attention to what he could see. He was now numb from the pain but the loss of blood was impairing his vision. Blade saw the sunrise. He was amazed he had made it this far. Although he did not know how far he had made it.
He was on the brink of collapsing when he saw a cottage up ahead. He thought he might find assistance there. He struggled with each ounce of his remaining strength to get there. It was no use, he was several feet away when he lost consciousness.

[Swordsman]

Sweet...exactly what we need, some actual fencing writing. You've got your stuff together man. Schiznet, if you will.

[Swordsman]

After a long and confusing night of running around the kingdom, Nækos parted with various people, and headed alone back to his cottage. The place was empty for the first time in...How long? Two months? Three?

The king had been stabilized, the guard doubled. Zelda was still troubled, but wouldn't say why, and was staying by Arcon's side. He still didn't know what was up with Moonitic, though he had noticed three people attempting to sing at her empty window on the way back. Serana and Fencing Angel and others from the force and the army were still out combing the woods in shifts, and he didn't know or care where Jo was.

Kicking various cots out of the way at four in the morning, he stoked the fire, then stretched out in front of it and slept.

At around eight thirty, the sun hit a mirror on the back wall of the cottage's main room, and around nine the reflection had traveled across the floor and into Nækos' eyes, waking him.

Recharged, he rose quickly, shook his head to clear it, felt his long tied-back hair as it flapped around. I need to get that cut...need to wash it, first. Going outside to pump water to bathe in, he nearly tripped over a pale body clutching a sabre in rigor mortis.

Looking closer, Nækos saw that the figure was in fact moving, barely. In deep shock, however, from a gash on his side, the person gave every appearance of being dead. Nækos' bath was now forgotten for a while more.

Carefully lifting the body, Nækos brought it inside, then pumped cold water and began cleaning the wound. Probing the open flesh made the person stir and begin to wake. Nækos had the cut mostly bandaged before its owner was fully awake.

"Who...you?"

Nækos looked up from his work, startled, and spoke for the first time since the night before - earlier that morning, really. "My name is Nækos Servaya, and I found you just about dead on my step. Now lie back and shut up, and I'll summon a proper surgeon shortly." For lack of a better alternative, his patient complied.

Tying off the bandage - another tunic down the drain - Nækos made sure the man was relatively comfortable on his kitchen table, then left to summon the royal surgeon.

[Blade]

The Royal Surgeon had stitched the injured stranger in Nækos’ place back together. It was shortly after the surgeon had left that Blade came too. Nækos had ran off on another errand leaving Blade to his own devices. Not expecting him to come too until hours later.
Blade briefly wondered where he was and took to idly wandering around. He wandered out of Nækos’ cottage and headed down the road.

He soon arrived at a pub. The tattered sign on the overhang read ‘The Bitter End.’ Blade let out a small chuckle at the implied irony of the sign. He entered.

See Bitter End Thread

[Swordsman]

Nækos returned to his cottage and offloaded the weight of bread and several pounds of meat he'd been carrying. Upon going around the back, he found Blade there again, cleaning a sabre. A very familiar looking sabre...

"Hello, my friend. I see you're still here. Might I ask your name?"

Blade turned, stared for a moment. "I am Blade."

"Blade..." Nækos mused, eyeing the sabre. "Where are you from Blade? Who are your people?"

"I come down from the mountains. I am Talruum."

"I thought so... I have a proposition for you: Do you have anywhere to stay right now?"

"Uhh...no."

"You stay here with me, have all the food you want, as long as you want. In return, you teach me your sabre."

"Alright...can I eat now?"

Nækos laughed. "Surely! Come on in!"

[Blade]

Blade feasted upon Naekos' food like an animal.

"I must apologise..I not ate in days.. Duel many days ago. I teach sabre you in hour. Years practice."

[Swordsman]

Nækos finished, then sat and watched his new companion. "No apologies needed, my friend. Tell me, have you ever been to the village called Nova Zemblar?"

[Blade]

"Novas Emblar...Novas Emblar... That may be near the mountains from whence I came... I can not remember. My memories are scarce. I remember being on the run, in a duel, all because they called me Rogue. I know not what I did. Sabre is what I know. Come now."

Naekos and Blade wandered to the garden to practice sabre.

"Hold now," said Blade, "I remember something of Novas Emblar, a boy training with Talruum, you be that boy?"

[Swordsman]

Nækos was taken aback. "Yes...you were one of the rogues? You are half the reason I'm where I am! It's ones like you who got the Talruum a bad reputation. What are you doing here? What do you REALLY want here? If it weren't for the rogues, I'd still be back there, happy, and Kinkado would still be alive! You need to start explaining, before I train with a Talruum rogue."


(Yes, that sucked. I'm tired, can't think of anything better.)

[Fencing Angel]

it was morning when angelo stumbled into the clearing that naekos had built his house. when he saw naekos and another man with swords in hand he wondered what they where up to.. they (the swords) didn't look sharp, but looks can be deciveing. Angelo had never seen anyone ever beat naekos in a duel before so he assumed that this stranger wouldn't either.

"naekos must be training him.. someone applyed for the strike force. that must be it"

But what happened next made angelo think twice. they started slow and gradualy incresed the speed of the duel. but naekos couldn't hold his ground. angel was agast.

"who could this stranger be.. where is he from.. what skill does he have.."

the accaurcy and speed of this man where asounding. every time that naekos would leave a opening anywhere this man would attack it.. Angelo watched them for what seemed like days.. dueling back and forth. a few times they stoped for water and the stranger looked like he was talking to naekos. but they never saw angelo.
he wanted to stay and watch somemore but he wanted to find Lady Rosalina to ask her to the ball... he back tracked into the forest to avoid naekos and the stranger, and headed toward the city.

[Blade]

(well this is gonna suck too, so don't worry)

"I get the feeling we're being watched," Blade said. He shook his head to shake off the feeling.
"I am of the Talruum, as you know, we are more civilised than we would have you believe. Many many moons ago, we were divided into clans. I am of the Slava sept. This I remember clearly. It is slowly coming back to me now."

Blade pauses. He takes a deep breath.

"There were rogues enough in our camps that did things we weren't proud of and they were cast out. The rogues united and formed their own Septs. None of which we accept. I was accounted a rogue when I wanted to share our knowledge with the world. They cast me out too. I was not accepted by any of the clans and I refused to go to the rogues. I must have set out on my own, I do not recall, I know I had a fight days ago but I know neither why or how it came to take place. I then found myself in your care."

Blade shakes his head. He still had the feeling he was being watched. He looks round but senses no immediate danger.

Blade continues. "Makes me wonder why any Talruum would take you under their wing. Perhaps you too were taught by the rogues?"

Nækos shakes his head in disbelief. "Can it be?" he mumbles to himself.

[Swordsman]

After a moment, he cast the thought away. No, they were too organized to be a clan of rogues. And he'd been accepted after saving one from a rogue. No, he'd been trained by the regulars. But still... "The rogues have formed their own clan? That could be severely dangerous...I think they need to be eliminated, before they cause some serious trouble in the towns, and for the Talruum."

[Swordsman]

Blade thought about Nækos' opinions, but was too busy with the lesson to really comment them. They started with a regular bout, using Talruum sabres with foiled edges. Nækos was continually amazed at the Talruum's un-instructed talent. He had such force and speed behind every movement, but was never carried away by momentum. Nækos tried to find a rhythm, to defeat it, but could discern none. When an amazingly hard parry came, he tried to disengage while it was way off to the side with inertia. But it came right back and caught his blade. And Blade still had the bandage on his side that he'd just applied that morning.

About halfway through, he suddenly remembered the plans for the night. He called off the bout, conceded, and excused himself to Blade.

Pumping more water, he succeeded in bathing this time, the chore having been forgotten that morning. He washed his hair several times, then changed into clean, formal pants. No sheaths sewn in down the legs. He pulled his hair back as tightly as possible, tying it into another loose tail. He had no idea if it looked alright, or what else to do with it. He could cut it, but the rough chop would be even worse.

He donned a formal tunic, with a high collar, and the silver Aiovus insignia at the throat. Two straps of clean, nicely-cut cloth he wrapped around his hands, black with hunter green interwoven. Wishing he could wear the usual sandals, he went instead with the nicer boots. Mid-calf, with no heel, rounded toe. Good for fighting, riding, running, dancing, anything. The bottoms of the pants he tucked in, leaving slack to fold over the tops of the boots, hiding them. So far, the green in his hand-wraps was the only color on him besides black.

He donned a sash next, irridescent black, and from it hung an ornamental dagger. The red-strapped scabbard and rosewood handle added a little color as it hung hilt-down from the rear of the sash.

Next the Talruum sabre went under his left arm, the scabbard-strap over his right shoulder. The strap was blood-red leather wrapped with black, the scabbard matching. The sabre itself was a unique, exquisite piece of bladework, unmatchable by human hands. It was forged from a single piece of silver-white metal, flat except for the hand grip. The blade was a standard convex arc, except angular rather than curved. This created a point not only at the tip, but at the lower corner of the edge. Widest at this point, the blade tapered back to the edged hand guard, which faded then into the pommel-spur. He'd never polished any of these surfaces; they'd never smudged or tarnished.

The hand grip was wrapped first with leather to fill it out, then black fabric. This was covered by dark green fabric, spaced more loosely to show the black through. Excess was also left to hang off the back, ostensibly to secure the work in its sheath.

Nækos tucked the scabbard into the sash as well, so that it was supported by the shoulder strap and held close by the sash. Then he started off toward the city, to finally meet Serana.

[Blade]

Blade had been left the run off the house.

Perhaps Naekos' had forgotten of his dislike of rogue Talruum. Blade dismissed the idea. He had heard earlier at the Bitter End that some function of the sort was happening at the nearby Palace. He thought he might go. Feel out this strange place called Arconia.
Blade sniffed his underarm. He decided it was satisfactory, though it clearly was not.
Blade rummaged through naekos clothes hoping to find something that would suit.
He eventually pulled on some green leggings and a green tunic with some moth-eaten holes in them. This gave Blade a near-comical appearance. He did not seem to mind. The holes gave his bandage and wound room to breathe.
Once attired, Blade began to track Naekos who had left dressed rather lavishly. Blade quickly caught up to Naekos but remained out of sight.