Frelian Knight

Michalis had been minding his own business - stopped in a town not too far from the capital, and disguised for his own safety, wandering the streets while generally avoiding people had become far more a habit than anything. To be interrupted by a stranger, however, was something that caught the king by surprise - he turned to her rather quickly, hood up but his startled expression visible.

Surveying her for a moment, he could easily tell she was a warrior of some kind; Michalis’ own time spent within the barracks of the castle could tell him as much. But to be asking help of a passerby, cloaked and potentially dangerous? The thought that she was lost was a possibility, and he doubted it little.

Holding his tongue for the moment, Michalis took a deep breath and steeled himself for whatever would come next. (Gods only knew how much he hoped she wasn’t a Macedon native.) Lutz was left to graze in a small grove nearby, and at the time, he wasn’t concerned about his defense. “For a moment, yes. What do you need assistance with?”

He looked startled, as though he hadn’t expected to be stopped. Which, well maybe that wasn’t odd usually, but he was the most eyecatching and suspicious looking character around, and Vanessa immediately gave him a solid once over as a routine danger check. No obvious weapons, gloves, etc. Not hard to look at, and up close his hair was even more eyecatching.

Reminded her of Tethys’ own braid, and ah, she was homesick.

Sumia nodded. She didn’t mind being told what to do. She was helping them out after all and Sumia had basically given Vanessa permission to lead them onwards in this place. So she followed her as they continued their descent downwards. She stayed close to Vanessa, still not entirely sure what to expect.

It didn’t take long to reach the bottom and luckily neither of them came close to falling. But that didn’t mean that everything was fine once there were there. Sumia had moved slower than Vanessa did, still trailing behind her, but not quick enough and she had stumbled at the end, realizing she had nearly crashed into something. A creature had slammed down between them and she was nearly screaming herself.

“Vanessa!”

Eyes wide, she scrambled to find her lance and get back to her feet, ready to take on this monster before it got to any of them. She was still several feet away and who knew if she’d get there in time. She was shaky and feared stumbling over her feet once she was back standing, but she couldn’t just do nothing. So she stood up and charged at the Deathgoyle, hoping that this would turn out alright. That Vanessa and hopefully the other knight were okay.

The bonewalker rattled as it advanced, bones clacking at every motion, every movement. Slowly, steadily, raising a rusted sword high- the bonewalker could be ignored for a moment. The deathgoyle had its own lance, and was the more pressing issue. 

The more pressing issue that took her adrenalin-fueled thrust in stride, ignoring the lance head in its side in order to raise its weapon high, and then bringing it down, harshly. It missed, barely, the air moving past her face so harshly that her bangs flew into her vision. 

Yelping out of reflex, she falls back, taking her lance with her even as Sumia impacts the deathgoyle. That gets the creature’s attention, and the monster screams, a noise unsettling enough that Vanessa’s knight (still stuck in her corner, likely injured, no- can’t think of that yet, split attention here could cost her) shakes and Vanessa’s hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Here’s some examples to start you off-

Confess! Are you turned on by [insert kink here]?

Confess! Do you like [insert name here]?

Confess! Is it true that you once [insert odd/silly activity here]?

Confess! Are you scared of [insert fear here]?

Confess! Did you cry during [insert movie here]

    Thought she might find… inspiration? Courage? From a marker on a grave? Zeke regarded her quietly, then lowered his gaze to the earth.

    “There is not much to say,” he admitted. “Sir Camus was a knight of his country until the very end.” Pausing momentarily to reflect on how strange it was to speak of himself in the third person, then looked back up to the young woman. Such a concise answer would not satisfy her, he could tell.    

  “His influence - and his sacrifice - was so great that the famed Sable Order of Grust, the Order of knights by which Grust itself had been founded, disbanded to honor his death. The Knights knew then that their beloved country was no more.”

      It was the story that would go unrecorded, historical texts instead focusing on the events of Marth’s conquests, of Grust’s long-standing corruption. A kingdom of chivalrous knights reduced to the final, cowardly actions of her late king, who allied with the treacherous Medeus in desperation. But clearly inexperienced in talking at length about himself, Zeke quickly changed the topic.

   “And where is ‘home’ for you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

A group of knights, who’d founded a country, disbanding...All because the death of one man had opened their eyes. Her left hand rested two fingers over her heart, and she felt sympathy for these knights. “They must have been very brave, to do that.” She’d seen a similar kind of courage, in the Gradoan defectors. 

She had a mind to thank this man for telling her, to turn back to her quiet contemplation of Camus’ grave, but he spoke again. “The kingdom of Frelia,” Vanessa said, quietly proud. “I came through, a-” Ah, perhaps she shouldn’t...there were hardly defensive protocols in place for the strange gates between worlds.

He worried for a moment that she wouldn’t actually strafe in time, but the sprout was nimble and tumbled back, skidding into the dirt as his swing came down harmlessly against the sod with a dull thump. The ground was packed down enough for sure footing, but was forgiving enough on falls. There would be little else but shallow bruises on skin and pride. But oh, that fire burned in her eyes when she stood again, determined to make him pay for the parry. 

Gerik grinned.

And now, she fought like one of them. There were only so many universal rules to using a weapons, and those governed its effective use. How to make the most of a swing. How to successfully block, and where to catch a blade. Everything else was a mere guideline, and when one was a mercenary, one learned very quickly that anything goes. She snapped forward like a snake, coming in with a jab–then a quick pivot, instead whirling the shaft out at him.

And if Gerik had stayed put, he was fairly certain the wood of it might have just caught him across the throat, and that probably would have been the end of that. But it didn’t; the mercenary threw himself to the ground, barrelling forward with his shoulder to the ground and rolling onto his feet again. He took full advantage of it, sighting well within her distance. 

Distance was everything against a lance fighter, and perhaps it was fighting dirty in his case. No doubt the pegasus rider was more familiar with seeing the battlefield from somewhere several feet higher, where no infantry could dare hope to come within her guard. “That almost felt like you trying trying to kill me,” he joked–only half joked–chuckling as he readied his stance again.

Good.

It was a mounting irritation, that he could stay within the range where her reach was more of a hindrance than a boon. She might have called it what it truly was, an infuriating tactical choice that despite knowing it was a spar had anxiety crawling up her spine, except for her pride. So it was an irritation, and not a thing to worry about, because of course he’d not stay within range for her to bring her weapon to bear effectively.

Of course not. 

Still, that was an impressive roll (a timely dodge, good..she would have hated for this to be over so soon, and anxiously she noted that she’d need to remember to aim...lower, given that might have taken his head if he’d been any slower or if he’d simply...stayed put), and it was with distracted good humor that she retreated a few steps to try to get just...a bit more room to work with. “You noticed?” She said brightly, a touch too much so - a subtle indication she was joking that paired well with the dryness of her follow up. “I suppose I shall try harder, sir.” 

A bit more room, and she fell back into her own stance. Twitching her nose when strands of hair tickled it, Vanessa tired of the wait and lunged again. this time intending to block a returning strike with the shaft of her weapon before closing the distance between them in order to drive a heeled boot into his instep.