Jule
Thief
Anyone can be great.
Posts: 91
Affinity: Dark
OoC Alias: Zach
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Post by Jule on Oct 5, 2016 16:35:11 GMT -6
Once the matter of the township in Ryerde had been taken care of, Perun had invited Jule to come along with him and his band of fellows, as the goons called themselves. With nowhere else to go to and excited to learn the group's tricks of the trade, the girl was more than happy to tag along. After all they had been through together that afternoon, it was clear that she was dealing with some seriously experienced mercenaries.
However, as the band started down the road, one condition had to be put into place. The little bugger had to promise that she would stay with the group, and not wander off like she was prone to.
"Alright then!" Jule proclaimed with excitement, eager to please her new instructors. "Don't you worry, I'll be on you guys like hooves on a horse!"
And at first, she did manage to keep in line. She really did! Even slept by the firelight with the others when the sun went down. But as time went on, distractions piled up one by one in her mind, and soon the tiniest leaves had a story to tell, and every stone hidden treasures underneath. The final nail in the coffin was while Perun, the one good with the blade, and that spindly magical fellow had gone hunting and left the rest of the gang behind. The others were resting, paying no mind to Jule, who, slowly but surely, strayed away from the edge of camp in a prolonged practice session. Sweaty and tired the swordswoman found the closest tree to lean against, and closed her eyes as she sank to the bottom.
Hours passed. When Jule opened her eyes again, the sun was dangerously close to setting and she had a terrible thirst in the back of her throat. More urgently, the girl was not in the clearing she envisioned when she had been practicing. For what seemed like miles and miles around was just thick, leafy towers of tree leaves. How had she completely missed where she had been going before? The girl simply shrugged to herself in resignation, scooping up her effects and setting off to find her way back to the pack.
By the time the sky was turned pink with signs of twilight, Jule finally stumbled upon their camping grounds again. Alone. With no signs of life in sight. The woman could feel the guilt creeping its way up her throat. If Perun found her again, the man would be furious with her for breaking her promise. "W-Well!" Jule called out in a shrill voice, to nobody in particular. "'If' he finds me again! I'll just find his group again, no big deal! Everything's gonna work out just fine, Balin."
That had been a week ago. Things were decidedly not "fine".
Jule grumbled, hacking her way through yet another stupid thicket in the stupid forest she found her stupid way into. The girl wasn't exactly sure where she was, but it definitely wasn't Ryerde anymore. She had followed the path the band of fellows had been travelling down, but she must've taken a wrong turn somewhere, because the little wandered ended up hopelessly turned around in the fields. Soon afterward the girl lost sight of the road again and ended up roughing it on her own. And now here she was in the umpteenth forest she'd come upon, set dead in the middle of Gaea knows where. With a groan pushed aside a large branch jutting in front of her, too thick to be cut through properly. "When I find that big guy again, I swear, I'm never goin' near another tree for as long as I live." The forest agreed with this proposal, thwacking Jule soundly in the back of the head once she was past the branch.
The girl trudged ever onward. As she made her way through the densest area of the woods the trees relented and soon she could weave through the younger, interspersed branches without issue. And yet, Jule felt uneasy. There were no monsters as far as she could sense, and all the animals had probably been scared away by all the racket she'd been making. But it still felt like she was being watched. The child's heart began to race as her hand made its way to the pommel of her sword, slowly sliding the hilt from its resting place. Whether it was born of a fear for her predator or a rush of excitement, she wasn't sure.
A blast of wind brushed by her face, and embedded itself in a trunk just inches away. An arrow. The feather attached was ornate, and the arrow's shaft clearly well crafted, even to an untrained eye like hers. "Now now," a smooth voice called, just beyond Jule's wandering sight. "There's no need for it to come to blows. Drop the weapon."
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Jule
Thief
Anyone can be great.
Posts: 91
Affinity: Dark
OoC Alias: Zach
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Post by Jule on Oct 6, 2016 17:02:02 GMT -6
The girl's teeth clenched. "Just who d'you think you are, anyway? I ain't afraid of you!" But as much as she hated to admit it, the voice's owner had her right where they wanted her. The swordswoman couldn't fight what she couldn't see, much less reach. Begrudgingly, Jule undid her sheathe's buckle, letting the bundle of leather and steel collapse to the ground in a heap. "Good. I was hoping I wouldn't have to bury anyone before supper tonight." The crunching of leaves and loam underfoot stirred in Jule's ears as her arrester closed in. Her hands started to tremble. "And I was hopin' some gutless thug from a backwater farm wouldn't come and try to kill me while I'm doin' important business." The voice chuckled. Its soft, almost reminiscent pitch would've been soothing to the girl if Jule hadn't been too busy blistering with rage. "'Gutless?' I'm defending my home from the likes of brigands like you. It's bad enough you had to go romping through the woods and scared all the food away."
The footsteps stopped just beyond the child's eyesight. What she could see, however, was the gleam of another bolt, nocked on the strip of a bow. Its wood had been delicately carved, even more than the arrows. The sides had been inlaid with metals, as well as intricate markings that Jule couldn't quite make out in the shade. Still, it seemed familiar. It all seemed so familiar. Her voice, her personality, her weapons of choice... "Do I know you from somewhere?" Jule blurted out. The figure snorted, but quickly regained her composure. "You could. I've had a lot of strange bedfellows over the past few years. Been all around Elibe. Although, now that you mention it, your brazen way of speaking's kind of familiar." The woman's tone turned dour, opposed to her lighthearted, almost teasing manner of speech. "No... there's no chance. She died in that village back in Santaruz. Could you really be..."The figure stepped into the drowning sunlight, lowering her bow. Dressed in a blue bridge coat and leather armor she had the look of a veteran warrior, but carried herself with the beauty and elegance of a true noble. There was only one marr in her perfected poise: fearsome scars on her left cheek. Though covered by her bangs, the scar bled out from underneath her hair and threatened to eek onto the adjacent part of her face. For Jule, there was no mistaking who she was."Isabeau!!" "It is! Jule!"Jule hollered, pouncing on her old friend and mentor and she, in turn, dropped her weapon and responded in kind. "It's been so long since I've seen you last! At least a month, maybe more. Time just seems to get away from me. How've you been?" The bowman embraced the swordswoman tightly, patting her on the head. "How have I been? How have YOU been, kiddo?! It's been nearly three months since I saw you in Santaruz, and I can hardly recognize you now! You've gotten taller! And your voice was so surly I couldn't tell it was you! And, by the gods... what are you wearing? Why are you wearing a matted wolf's pelt? I almost shot you on sight!" Disengaging, Jule put her fists to her hips and posed triumphantly. "'S doog's fur! I got it when I saved a town in Sacae from monsters. I'm not a lost traveler no more! I'm a bonafide mercenary now, and I gotta look the part too." Isabeau laughed heartily. "I dunno, kid, you still seem pretty lost to me."
The girl put a hand to her chin. "Well, I guess I am a little lost. Say, d'you know what province of Lycia this is? Wait, wait, we are still in Lycia, right?" "Of course. You're in my home: good old Araphen." "Oh, good. I was in Ryerde not too long ago. Is that far?" The older woman gave Jule a dumbfounded look. "'Far??' That's a trek and a half for a small fry like you. How did you make it so far on your own?""Well, how did you make it so far?""I think you might be underestimating the discrepancies between us.""Oh yeah? I made it here ta Araphen too, didn't I?""Hah! That's for sure. My sincerest apologies for doubting you, O great and mighty wunderkind."
As Jule reached to pick her sword up, Beau broke the silence once more. "Say, how about we find a clearing and set up camp for the night? The sun ought to be setting by the time I come back from hunting, and food tastes much better with a friend." The girl bounced back to her feet, quickly stringing the scabbard's leather straps through her belt loops. "You bet! I'm starving here." "Sounds like a plan," Isabeau agreed, tossing her pack to the young mercenary and turning with a dismissing wave. "I'll leave you to the fire then, small fry. If I'm not back in an hour or two with something nice to eat, don't worry about me; I probably died!""Alright! Good luuuuck!" Jule called, waving as Beau vanished behind the cover of trees as softly as she came. Jule was on her own again. Wow. In a matter of minutes, the evening was already looking up. She had a companion, a location, and pretty soon, a hot meal. "Now... how do I make a fire again?"
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Jule
Thief
Anyone can be great.
Posts: 91
Affinity: Dark
OoC Alias: Zach
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Post by Jule on Oct 7, 2016 10:07:25 GMT -6
With a lot of a little help from Isabeau, the pair quickly had a roaring fire, and a rabbit for each roasting over top. And not a minute to spare; the shadows of the forest hushed the last embers of the setting sun, and soon the Lycians were alone in the dark of the night. Reaching for the spit, the yeoman plucked the twig and snapped in half, passing a rabbit to Jule who greedily starting munching. "Careful there, it's hot." "Mnnbnhgh, bwi knhwo" Jule agreed, swallowing. "Hah... nothin' beats warm food." "Damn straight." Casually ripping off a chunk and popping it into her mouth, the warrior gave the girl a strange look. "You know, you sure do travel light. How did you make it so far without any food or survival skills?" This time, it was Jule dolling out the strange looks. "'Without any survival skills'? Don't be silly. I'm Jule Balin, as survival-y as they come. 'Sides, there's plenty out in the woods to eat if you know where to look."
"So, you've been eating nothing but berries and bark." "Not just berries and bark! A couple times, I found traps with animals in them, and I ate those." "Damn thief...hahaha, I should've known. How did you cook them without any fire?" "'Cook them'?" "It's a miracle you haven't died yet." "You're tellin' me. I'm probably just too tough for any old sickness to get my goat." Isabeau took a bite from her meal. "At least now you know how to make a fire; that's a start. Listen, small fry, you can't just go around peeling things off of plants and munching on them. There's a thousand and one things out in the countryside that can kill you with a taste. And you need some meat on those bones of yours. You really need to learn to hunt. I'd teach you how myself, but..." The warrior turned away from Jule, who was happily gnawing on the last bit of rabbit meat. "Bwhut whut?" she chewed. Isabeau chuckled. "Well, I've got something to take care of while I'm in town, and there's not really much time for me to help you out before you--" "Go wanderin' off again." Isabeau stopped, and laughed again. "Yeah, I guess so."
"So, whatcha doin' in Araphen?" Jule inquired. "Last I heard, you were just a mercenary looking to see Elibe's sights." For a minute, the woman fell silent, plucking at her meat. "Boy, this is good stuff. Maybe sometime I'll quit the hero lifestyle and become a chef." Jule frowned. "Isabeau? What's the big idea? You keepin' secrets?" Conceding defeat, the woman raised her arms in surrender. "You caught me. Ah, well, I guess I can tell you. Truth is, I'm here on a test of sorts. You know the marquess, right?" Jule shrugged. "Sort of." There was that Adonai fellow back in Ostia, and someone before him, if she thought real hard about it, but the girl had never met either one. Her parents always acted a little skittish when they made public appearances, and never actually attended. Strange, if you asked Jule. "The Marquess, good old Darron Porfino Araphen? He's my father."
"You don't say!" Jule exclaimed. Isabeau buckled over laughing, and for once, Jule joined in. Not because she had found what she said particularly funny, it was just... nice to be with someone again.
"So, that makes you a... princess, yeah?" "Not quite, no. But as a lordling, I get a few certain privileges. You see, over the past few years I've been wandering Elibe, training myself--" "Is that how you got those scars?" Beau grunted. "N-No. Well, this one. Right here," she said, tracing a line down the right side of her jaw. "Let's not talk about that. Back to what I was saying: I've been wandering, and training myself, for the day of my return to Castle Araphen. Once I return, there is a trial I must face on my own. And once I've faced it... Sanguineus."
"'Sanguineus'?"
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Jule
Thief
Anyone can be great.
Posts: 91
Affinity: Dark
OoC Alias: Zach
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Post by Jule on Oct 8, 2016 9:55:16 GMT -6
"I'm surprised that you haven't heard the legends, being a Lycian yourself." "I've heard the name before! I just... dunno much about it is all." "Haha, it's alright. Let's see: how much do you know about it?"
Picking her teeth with the bones, Jule contemplated the question thoughtfully. "Weeell, I know it's a... sword?" "It's a sword." There was a particularly wedged tendon right between her molars. "And it's a magic sword." "What kind of magic then, small fry?" "Yow!" At that remark the bone prodded too deep, right into the gums. "I'm... Well, it'd probably be more interesting if you went on with your story than havin' me recap for ya." The woman bore a wicked grin on her face, tearing off a large chunk of meat before continuing. "Suuure. Alright then, suit yourself."
"Long ago, during the battle between man and dragonkind, there was a brave warrior born of the land yet to be known as Lycia. They say the warrior's strength was only matched by his sheer tenacity on the battlefield; some stories tell of how they once ripped their soul from Death's grip right as the dastard was about to carry it off to the afterlife. The warrior was never as legendary as the Divine Generals or as capable of such amazing feats as their weapons, but they were a force to be reckoned with in their own right.
As the stories go, the warrior also brought with him to the battlefield a strange, unworldly sword. No one knows where it came from, or from whom it was created. Some say it was made of a meteorite from the stars beyond the sky. Others swear it's made from the purest orichalcum the land's ever known. I don't think they ever did say. Hell, I'm not sure if even the warrior knew where they got it from. But it had no magical powers to speak of; not on it own.
One day, when the fighting was at its worst, a dragon had been ravaging the fields as they retreated from battle. When they were met upon with resistance by the abbey who presided over the countryside, the dragon slaughtered all the men and women who crossed it, the monster. The monks put up a good fight, but the dragon quickly overwhelmed them, and set upon the castle too.
Just as the dragon was about to destroy the abbey, as well as the people defending it, the soldiers from the battle caught up with them. The warrior slew the dragon themselves and rescued the citizens, but unfortunately, they couldn't stop the abbey from collapsing in on itself. They had done all they can, but the warrior was burdened by their failure and cast aside their sword, considering themselves unworthy to wield it.
But the abbess, wishing to repay the warrior for their heroic deeds, took the blade. It was then that she discovered its true purpose: Its curious make had been constructed with the intent to bind a spirit of magic inside. With the help of the remaining abbey mages, she summoned the most powerful light spirit they could conjure forth in a special summoning rite, and bound it to the blade.
Returning it to the warrior, they took it with the abbess' blessings and, their determination restored, returned to the war. The magic in to the warrior's sword had a strange effect on those near it, bolstering the spirits of its allies while shattering the will of foes in its path. And from that point onward, the warrior's presence on the battlefield grew, to the point where their mere presence could rally a force like one of the Heroes themselves.
The humans eventually won the war, known today as The Scouring. Some time afterwards blade and owner returned to the ruined abbey with its former denizens and upon its grounds built the fortress we know today as Castle Araphen in monument. Some legends also say the abbess and the warrior grew quite attached to one another as the years went by together, but--"
"Who cares about any of that?" Jule interrupted with a yawn. "I wanna hear more about the sword!" "Right, right."
"Even after the fighting had ended, the blade and its wielder were inseparable. It was like a match made in heaven. The two fought together right up until the old warrior's passing, and Sanguineus, as we know it today, has been in the property of Araphen's castle ever since."
Jule, comfortably full of food, couldn't help but stifle another yawn as she tossed her bones into the fire. "Your patience is truly astounding. Don't worry, I'm almost done. Try not to fall asleep on me, kiddo."
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Jule
Thief
Anyone can be great.
Posts: 91
Affinity: Dark
OoC Alias: Zach
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Post by Jule on Oct 9, 2016 13:38:58 GMT -6
"It's been over a thousand years since the sword was created and left in the care of Araphen. The potency of its magic was diluted by the Ending Winter, but its blade and spirit have remained just as sharp as ever. Sanguineus is a finicky beast, only allowing those it deems worthy to carry it into battle. Many of my ancestors and my countrymen before me have tried to wield the sword in the past millennium, but only two have ever succeeded. I aim to be the third. After being told I had the potential to wield Sanguineus, I left my home and traveled around the globe for years, honing my spirit." The pint-sized mercenary perked up. "And that's how you met me! Way back at the edge of Etruria, remember? When I tagged along with your troupe?" Beau grunted as she tore into her rabbit, polishing off the last of it. "Of course. The border guard was practically begging for us to take you away. I don't think I've ever seen another man so terrified of a thing half his size." Jule puffed out her chest. "Give me another few years, and you'll see a whole lot more."
"Like I was saying, Sanguineus requires a will of iron to master, and after so long, I finally think I'm ready. Ready to return home." Scratching her head, Jule tried to imagine what her companion would've looked like younger, but came back nothing to show for it. To her, Isabeau seemed timeless, like a painting on a wall or a story in a book. "How long's it been since you left Araphen?" "About five years. I send letters when I can, every now and then, just to let the family know I'm alright."
Getting comfortable, Isabeau laid back against her arms, looking past the thin canopy to the stars twinkling to life above. "To tell you the truth, I'm not sure why we keep such a dangerous artifact, or why Sanguineus wishes to spend its days locked away inside a castle instead of just fading away like any sane spirit. That bind can't last forever."
"Maybe it's the thrill of the challenge? For both, I mean. This Sang character wants another true wielder, and c'mon, a magical sword that chooses its wielder if they're brave enough? Tell me you wouldn't want that to be true. I'd love to be picked out for somethin' like that! It sounds just like a fairy tale come to life."
"Hah, maybe so. But there's a catch: those who aren't worthy... lose their minds when they perform the rite of acceptance. Every nightmare, every regret, every last anxiety and mistake come back to haunt you in a torrential downpour of fear. Your sanity shatters without any chance of recovery and you drown in your own personal hellscape." The yeoman glanced at Jule, who had both her fists and teeth clenched. "Am I hitting any nerves there, kid? Stop me if you're getting scared." The girl looked at Isabeau and revealed a devilish grin. "Don't be ridiculous. I've never heard something more exciting."
"Alright then, but it's a fool's errand getting close to that thing in person without supervision. Some of my bravest ancestors have met their match in that blade's magic, and no thief I've ever met have taken that sword and returned with their sanity intact. And don't even get me started on the Araphenian noble who tried to steal the thing; that poor fool didn't even get the chance to use the blade before he was cut down." Jule was taken aback with a reproachful glint in her eyes. "Aw, how did you know I wanted to check it out? I already told you, I'm a mercenary now. I don't need to steal things anymore." The bowman laughed, kicking her legs up. "Because you're you, and that's something you can't change. Your past might be a mystery to me, small fry, but you always wear your heart on your sleeve." As the woman spoke, Jule peeked under her coat and glanced at her arms, then back at Isabeau. Still bare. Hmm.
The woman rolled her body over to face Jule again, with one hand on her cheek and another on her hip. "But if it really means that much to you, I'll let you come with me to the ceremony castle. It won't be hard to pull some strings." Jule launched to her feet, bounding over to the redhead. "You'd really do that?!" she squawked. "For me?! You're the best!" Beau smiled. "I know I am, kiddo! But, you can only come on two conditions." "Name 'em. I'd do anything to get my hands on a sword like that!" Beau raised an eyebrow, but let the brewing contention rest. She'd just have to cross that bridge when she got there.
"First, you promise you don't get into any trouble while we're there." "Got it. What's second?"
"You let me clean you up once we get into the city. Frankly, small fry, you kinda stink," she motioned with a pinch of her nose. "Your outfit's not exactly 'regal attire' either." Immediately the thief made a pout. "What's wrong with the way I look? I think it's real fittin' for an up-and-coming warrior like me." But then again, Isabeau did have a point. By now Jule had probably patched more holes in her pants than there was fabric, and her shirt had permanent pit stains no matter how hard she scrubbed, and that wasn't even mentioning the patchwork cloak wrapped around her waist like she was a hobo. She always changed out her clothes when she had the gold for it, but it was difficult to earn money while on the move. "Trust me. You'll look like a real warrior once I'm done with you." Jule relented with a "hmph!", returning to her seat and plopping on the ground.
"We'll be setting out for home bright and early tomorrow, so get some shut-eye while you can. I'll take first watch." With that, the conversation quickly dwindled. Jule yawned, rubbing her eyes. She was tired, but only physically. On the inside of her brain she was in a hurricane of information There were so many names whirling through her mind that it'd be impossible to sort them all out before drifting off. Isabeau, Sanguineus, Araphen, Marquess, Perun, Band of Fellows... the list went on forever.
Sanguineus, Isabeau, Araphen, Marquess, Perun, Band of Fellows... Sanguineus, Isabeau, Araphen, Marquess, Perun, Band of Fellows... Sanguineus, Isabeau...
Sanguineus...
Slowly, the grip of sleep tightened its hold over her raging mind, and the child's tiny breaths turned into fully grown snores. Within minutes, she was out like a light.
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Jule
Thief
Anyone can be great.
Posts: 91
Affinity: Dark
OoC Alias: Zach
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Post by Jule on Oct 10, 2016 9:55:28 GMT -6
Jule awoke to the sound of leaves rustling.
Craning her sore neck to locate the noise, what she found was Isabeau, training in the first morning rays of light. The woman had long since stripped her scarf and coat, and furiously hacked away at the air in a thin undershirt and a wild mess of untamed hair. If not for her effects left on the ground, through bleary eyes Jule would've thought a homeless man had stumbled into the campsite in the night. Still... "How long has she been practicing?" the thief muttered to herself, carefully watching her dance. So elegant, yet so precise and deadly. It was too bad they didn't have the time to spend together tra--
Beau whipped around, staring Jule dead in the eye. At first she regarded the child with a savage, bloodshot stare, but as she reclaimed her senses, her gaze softened. Beau sighed, wiping the sweat from her brow. "My apologies. You slept like a rock, and I had a lot on my mind, so..." Jule gave her a weary smile, and stretched mightily as she pulled herself upright. "'Sokay," she yawned. Looking around her person, the girl made sure everything was still attached. Sword? Check. Doog's fur? Check. Clothes? Check. Jule? Check. Yup, everything still here. "Thanks for the nap. I'll be ready when you are." Isabeau shot the thief a thumbs up, setting the blade on top of her pack in favor of a brush, handcloth, and a vial of a mysterious substance. "Not just yet, small fry. I'm going to find somewhere to clean myself off. You should tag along. Bring your stuff, too." "I don't need ta--!" Jule, undaunted, raised her finger to interrupt, but as she did she caught a whiff of what'd been brewing underneath. "Phew. Yeah, you're right." The girl conceded defeat, rousing herself from the ground and chasing after the yeoman, who had already left with her effects in tow.
In high spirits and squeaky clean bodies, the pair found themselves strolling into Araphen's sprawling castle town before mid noon. Although the two were frequently given strange looks by passerby, no one made an attempt to stop the lordling or her ward on their journey. "It's strange to see how so much has changed in the last few years..." the warrior spoke aloud as she gazed at the unfamiliar faces, but if she expected a response she made no indication for Jule to do so. The girl was too caught up in seeing the hustle and bustle of the square. The pleasantry of human company was just not something you could substitute with a lonesome week of trekking through the woods.
"Well, here we are." The woman stopped suddenly, her companion walking straight into her back. "Right here's the best tailor in the town. We always used to send 'regal messages' for clothes, but I suppose a walk-in visit will have to do." Stepping through the old wooden doorway, Jule felt right at home surrounded by the bundles of fabric and string. "Tyson! Where are you at, you old fogey?" In answer, a tall, yet portly young figure rounded the corner and nearly fainted dead away at the sight of Isabeau. "Muh m-muh my, my Lady Isabeau!!! It's been years since I've heard from youuuu! Give me a ring before you drop in next time, won't you?" Clasping him on the shoulder, the lord grinned. "My apologies, I had to come on short notice. Where's your father, Junior?" The younger Tyson put one hand on his hip and adjusted to let the pair through the door. "He's in the back with mother, mending a pair of trousers. Bless him, the poor man's age is starting to wear on him. Can't hear worth a damn anymore. So now, I front the shop." Bending down on one knee, he motioned towards Jule. "Enough about me. Who's this little wolf you've brought along?" "Doog."
"Eh?" "'S doog's fur." "...I see. What can we do for you today, Ms. Doog?" Isabeau chimed in. "We're looking for something that Jule here can wear inside the castle." "Something practical too, like what a mercenary would wear!" "My, what's the occasion?" "I'll tell you all about it later. Have any ideas?" The man scratched the scruffy patch on his chin thoughtfully. "Oh yes, I can work with this."
"First, I'll need your measurements." Tyson instructed, reaching for a rope on the table behind him and pulling it taught vertical to the scrawny girl's body. Next, around her waist. Then after, an increasingly complex series of angles which the yeoman quickly lost understanding of. "My, you're good at this. Have you done this before?" "My parents were tailors." With one last tug around her collar, the man stopped.
"'Were'?" "Yeah." "I-I see."
The man's grip laxed, and Jule pulled the rope from her head free. "All done?" she smiled, and the man's grim look softened to match. "Yes, darling. Why don't you two come back in... say, tomorrow afternoon. We'll have something to really knock your stockings off." The older woman pursed her lips, but simply shrugged as she dug out a wallet and placed a wad of gold in the man's hand. "Ah well, nothing to do but wait around till then. C'mon, small fry, I'll show you around the town while we wait." The two turned around and headed out, the door's chime clinging as they left. "It's been good seeing you again, Junior. Give the old folks my regards!" "It's been lovely to see you too, Lady Isabeau. You as well, darling. Don't forget to pop by tomorrow, you two!" With a wave, the lordling dismissed the man and the door slammed shut behind her.
"Now, where to first..."
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Jule
Thief
Anyone can be great.
Posts: 91
Affinity: Dark
OoC Alias: Zach
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Post by Jule on Oct 11, 2016 21:05:48 GMT -6
The next 24 hours went by in a whirlwind of new faces and new places, for both Jule and Isabeau. Although it was still the Araphen that the bowman remembered, many people had passed on and came into new life while she had been away. Houses had risen and fallen. And it showed on the woman's face. Jule had never been very good at reading others, but while they traveled and re-introduced themselves to the city, Jule could tell her friend was slowly sinking into a crestfallen state. But, why? That was the important factor she was missing. Maybe she was homesick? Or maybe she didn't like the changes in populace? If Jule were her, she'd jump at the chance to meet new people and see new places. She just couldn't understand. When pestered, the yeoman simply dodged the pressuring with a joke.
Unfortunately, she never could find that answer. When the sun rose on the second morning, Beau seemed to act herself again, so Jule shrugged it off. It was a new day. New opportunities.
The day rolled onwards as they explored, and soon enough, it became time to return to the tailor's. Tyson Jr. greeted the pair's re-entry with a flourish, and directed their attention to the clothes set out in front of them. "Welcome back! Your order is ready for pick up. The needlework's a little shoddy from such short notice, but I u--" Jule bounded across the room, snatching up the shirt and admiring it. "No, it's perfect! The fabric's breathable, plenty 'a wiggle room, tabs for the sleeves, pattern's not too flashy but still catches the eye! You're a real gem, you know that? I owe ya big time." The surly man, clearly taken aback, said nothing at first, but motioned for the girl to take the clothes. "W-Well, thank you, darling. I don't quite know what all this is about," he said with a knowing glance aimed at the older woman. "But wherever you two go, you'll be stunning! Just, ah, try not to hide it underneath that... "doog's fur" of yours. Clothes were meant to be seen!" Jule nodded heartily, paying the tailor no mind as she scooped up the bundle of fabric.
Altogether, there was an undershirt, a sleeveless shirt to go on top of that, a new pair of slacks, he even went to the trouble of picking up a new belt and a matching set of gloves for the girl. "Say, how much was all this?" Jule queried, popping the leatherwork on top of the bundle. "My Lady chipped in a little more than she should've, so I went to the tanners a few doors down and picked up a little something extra." Isabeau chuckled in confirmation. "Like I said, a real gem." "Well, we'd better be off. I've sent word to the castle already, and they expect me there by this evening. Think you'll be ready before then, kiddo?"
"I was born ready!" "That's the spirit. I'll catch up with you later, Junior!" "When they ask, tell them you got your clothes made at Tysooooon's!"
The bell chimed as the door closed behind them. "It's almost time," Isabeau murmured, taking a deep breath. "You're welcome to explore around the rest of the town on your own, just meet me in front of the castle gate when the sun starts to set. Alright?" Jule nodded. "Good! See you in a few hours."
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Jule
Thief
Anyone can be great.
Posts: 91
Affinity: Dark
OoC Alias: Zach
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Post by Jule on Oct 12, 2016 18:53:09 GMT -6
Admittedly, the girl could've made better use of her time. For the span of the several hours given, Jule was posturing in front of a looking-glass inside of an inn bedroom, admiring her getup with wild abandon. When she wasn't posing, she was swinging her sword, getting a feel for her stiffened gloves and fabric. Fortunately no one came upstairs to complain when Jule crashed into walls, but the swordswoman needed to make tracks before someone traced the scratch marks in the wood back to her.
Time flew by, and once the thief was satisfied with her flexing, she hurried over to the castle looming over the town. Overhead the sun grew closer and closer to the horizon, painting the skyline and the city beneath rosy shades of pink. In the distance the yeoman stood on patient watch in front of the open drawbridge, waving once Jule was clearly visible. "Are you ready?" the woman called from afar. "Didn't you hear me earlier? I was BORN ready! Let's go meet San-" Isabeau hissed, cutting her off. "Not so loud!" Once they were reunited, the elder woman leaned into Jule's ear and spoke in a hushed voice. "The public isn't privy to this yet, small fry! This is meant to be a private affair, alright?" "Alright," Jule confirmed, though somewhat reluctantly. "Good. Now let's go have that family reunion." With that the yeoman hopped off of solid ground and onto the toughened oak bridge, her quarry close behind. As the redhead stepped off of the bridge and onto the path into the castle, the guards manning the fortress both took a knee once they saw the hair she wore and the scars she beared. "Hello, boys," Isabeau grinned.
"I'm home."
Inside, the two were met not with the city's hustle and bustle, but with the reception of a true noble. Shoulder to shoulder soldiers lined the carpeted hall in adjacent columns, their spears held high for the lordling. "It's good to see some things don't change," the woman breathed, scanning her eyes across the main hall, adorned with fine woods and murals potentially hundreds of years her senior. Jule was starstruck. "Y'mean they do this every time you drop in?" Beau snorted. "I wish. They certainly know how to make a girl feel wanted. Oh, look, here they come now."
The "they" whom Isabeau spoke of revealed themselves to be a well-built, prematurely graying man dressed in flowing robes, accompanied by a even taller man, a gruff knight covered in silver plate and carrying a powerful presence about him. Their step was formal, perhaps even restrained, like they came to put the bowman on trial. Then again, that did hold a certain truth for the events that would transpire tonight. "Isabeau, my daughter." The marquess spoke in a quiet voice, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and squeezing tight. "You've returned, and in one piece, no less." "Father," the woman smiled, patting him on the back. "You can let go now."
"Father, please. You're getting my shoulder wet." "Ah!" the man recoiled, wiping his moistened eyes. "My apologies. It's just... You've grown so much I hardly recognized you. The letters have simply not done you justice. Oh, if your mother and sister could see you now, I..." The gruff-looking knight stepped in front of the marquess, giving him a soft pat on the shoulder as he passed by. "Isabeau." "Halt."
"I believe some introductions are in order." The marquess' daughter stepped aside, presenting her ward. "This is Knight Commander Berthaldt Porfino, and the tearful one behind him is my father, the Marquess Araphen." "Call me Darron," the marquess said with a clear of his throat. "And you would be?" "My name's Jule Balin, sir. I'm with Isabeau." "Yes, she'll be coming with--" "'Balin', you say?" The Knight Commander interrupted, his face grim. "Curious." "Yeah, that's um... right. Why's it curious?" Almost as if the girl had imagined it, Berthaldt assumed his default, stoic expression. "No reason. Forgive my rudeness; you may call me Halt." "Alright then! Halt, and Marquess Darron. It's good to meet you two." The girl reached with her hand for Berthaldt's. The man took it, his massive gauntlet dwarfing Jule's hand as it clasped around hers.
"Now then," Darron instructed from behind Halt, the man releasing Jule from his stony grip and returning to his position. "Though it pains my heart, I suppose we'll have to save the pleasantries for later. You did not come here to rest. You came here for..." "Sanguineus." "Yes."
"And you're certain?" "I've never been more certain of anything in my life." "I know that, but... Are you truly, sincerely certain? You know the consequences of failure." "I will not fail."
"You've grown stronger." Berthaldt spoke with an eyebrow raised in interest. "I can see it in your stance, and the conviction in your eyes. They're not the ones I saw in that shivering child before she left." Halt crossed iron-clad arms across his broad chest. "You're ready." "I was hoping you might say that."
"Come with us. And you as well, young Jule. As Lady Isabeau's ward, this concerns you too." Without waiting for a response, the armored man turned on his heel and marched down the aisle, the marquess following suit. "The rest of you, return to your posts! Dis-missed!" "Yessir!" the hall replied, dissolving into a stampede of boots and armor clanking every which way imaginable.
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Jule
Thief
Anyone can be great.
Posts: 91
Affinity: Dark
OoC Alias: Zach
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Post by Jule on Oct 13, 2016 16:37:18 GMT -6
The group was led by Berthaldt down a winding corridor through which filtered out into the marquess' private study. Though nothing glamorous, the room was lined wall-to-wall with shelves upon shelves of books, with a large desk and chair in the center the only furnishings. The marquess began to flip through the books of one shelf, murmuring to himself as he did so. The man wrapped his fingers around a drab-looking spine. Was this actually going to be just a seminar? Ugh, she hated lectures. And reading. Much to Jule's surprise, however, when the marquess yanked a book free, he reached into the cavity created and proceeded to yank the entire bookshelf free. The massive construction moved with only nominal effort, revealing a small passageway that sank into darkness about a meter in. "How'd you do that?! Are you one 'a those magic types?" "I dabble. This, however, is just pure human innovation." Darron stood to the side, motioning for the three to enter. "Ser Halt, if you'd lead the way." "As you wish."
The door shut behind them with a thud. The marquess decided to "dabble" a little more, procuring a ball of light from his palm and filling the corridor with an eerie white glow. At least now they could see. "This way." Berthaldt spoke curtly, continuing onward. "Is there any other?" "Seems that smarting wit of yours has only dulled in your absence, lady Isabeau." "Touché, point taken," the woman punctuated with a cackle. As Jule's hands ran the length of the corridor wall, she noticed two things. One, they were smooth, without nearly so much as a scrape in the texture. Two, it was slowly getting colder. The girl felt herself sinking further and further back into her coat with every step. "How far are we from the surface?" Jule blurted out, rubbing her shoulders. "Quite a ways. Don't worry, kiddo, there isn't much further left to go."
But colder still it got. As the darkness of the walls around them seemed to fade in the growing light, Jule was practically shivering. Yet, no one else seemed to feel the chill. Was it just her imagination? The girl shrugged it off. As they pressed onward, Jule could see where the new source of light was coming from: an equally small exit door, with an unearthly light flooding in from outside. Seeking to take her mind off of the chill, the mercenary tried to re-kindle the conversation. "So, why so far underground?" "Many years ago, before the days of my father's father, we used to hold this ceremony above ground, in the castle garden." "You can imagine how much good that did for the people's morale." "Hah, yes. They always had to re-decorate the place too. I can't tell you how many ancient records we have stored away just for ordering new statues and topiary." Jule tilted her head, trying to peer into the bright light. "Just what goes on in there?" "Stay a while, and you'll find out." Halt harumphed. "We're here."
As Jule quickly realized, the ceremonial chamber was filled with a light that harshly contrasted the passageway's darkness. The room was filled with tapestries draped across the walls, displaying pictures of both heroes and what the girl could only assume were former marquesses long past. On the floor, a small crowd had gathered, their head turning when they heard the sound of footsteps. And inside that crowd... An elegantly crafted sword, resting on a velvet pedestal.
Sanguineus. Though her body was chilled to the bone, Jule's heart began to race. She didn't understand why, but it felt right.
"I thank you for your patience," began Berthaldt, silencing the murmurs with a wave of his hand. "My brothers. Sisters. Cousins. Sons. Daughters. Descendants of Araphen. It has been five long years since one of our own was left in the care of the world. And now, she is returned to us tonight, seeking to prove herself worthy of the blade Sanguineus. Without further ado, I present to you: our Lady Isabeau." At the mention of her name, the woman stepped forward. "That is correct. The ceremony has not been... properly conducted in my lifetime, but tonight, with my family and my companion as my witness, I swear we shall do it justice. Knight Commander?" "I agree. My lord, and young Jule, I ask that you would stand aside, so that you are not hurt." Before they left, Isabeau turned to the child, draping her scarf over top of the girl's head. "Wish me luck, small fry." "Knock 'em silly."
The two warriors strode to the far ends of the room, as the Araphenians proceeded to the wall facing the door, Jule in tow. The sword she'd seen earlier, along with its podium had curiously disappeared when the girl wasn't looking. Had she imagined it there? Or was there another marvel of human innovation, as Darron would call it(or as Jule would call it, trickery), that hid it from sight? Once everyone was settled, the knight instructed his liege for one final time. "I'm sure you know the rules of this bout already, seeing as you came without any tricks in that coat of yours this time." "Nothing gets past those eyes of yours, does it, Ser Halt?" Berthaldt said nothing to confirm or deny, but merely stroked his beard in contemplation. "However, for the sake of new ears and old memories, I will recount them."
"There are three rules: Firstly, you may battle in any way you so choose, so long as you use only the weapons on your person that your opponent can see. Secondly, in order to claim victory, you must incapacitate your foe to the point of yielding or unconsciousness. Do not unnecessarily maim, or kill. And thirdly--" "And thirdly, fight to the best of your abilities. Show no quarter." "Correct. Now. Defeat me, and prove yourself worthy of the mettle to handle Sanguineus." In one fluid motion, the scabbard at the Knight Commander's side flew away. In its place was a massive broadsword whose blade glowed a peculiar, unearthly hue.
"The first move is yours, my Lady."
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Jule
Thief
Anyone can be great.
Posts: 91
Affinity: Dark
OoC Alias: Zach
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Post by Jule on Oct 15, 2016 15:57:29 GMT -6
Isabeau charged, roaring. In a flash her sword was wrenched from its scabbard, light gleaming off of the polished blade. Only then did Jule notice where the lights were coming from. The ceiling was a mass of glowing, palm-sized masses of light. "Where are all those lights coming from?" Jule asked with a tap of the marquess' shoulder, careful not to take her eyes off the fight. "Oh. That would be the work of my other relatives who practice magic. As long as they keep their concentration, they won't go out. After all, there's no other way to light up the arena, and it adds quite the dramatic effect." "'S just more magic trickery." she muttered. "What was that?" "Oh, n-nothing."
"Here I come!!" The warrior had bounded across the room, but the knight remained still in the face of her approach. His blade had been poised in front of his face, never moving or wavering. Isabeau launched the assault with a feint, before bounding around to attack from the side. Only when the woman was truly in range did Berthaldt meet her blows with a parry of his own. "Such control..." "It certainly gives his nickname some credence. But it's no surprise that he's a master. Ser Halt has been defending my House for almost as long as my daughter has been alive." "Wait, really?" Jule pestered. "How long ago was that?" Isabeau connected a fist with Halt's face. The man was unfazed. "It's been some twenty years now. My, how the times have changed. When Isabeau was born, I was but an heir to the throne, and he was only a squire to the former Knight Commander.""You're sayin' Isabeau was a kid at one point?""Most people tend to be," he punctuated with a reproachful shrug. "Some people never have the chance to be a child, and others never stop acting like one." "I don't really get it, but alright."The combatants were evenly matched, meeting each other blow for blow despite the seeming disparage between their weapons. Isabeau's one-handed sword moved light as the air, and Berthaldt gripped his two-handed blade with only a single hand. The lord struck left and the knight caught it. The lord struck low and the knight caught it. Isabeau threw a punch in between his defenses and followed up with a thrust at his head. Berthaldt stepped backwards, but remained unfazed. "You've changed your style." Halt swapped his sword's hand and slashed, nicking the side of Isabeau's face. "I would have to!" The woman panted, backpedaling. "I'd never stand a chance against the man who taught me how to fight otherwise!" "Fair point." This time the Knight Commander charged, gripping the regal blade with both hands and slamming it down on the smaller fighter. The force of catching the weapon sent shivers down the woman's body, forcing the breath from her lungs. The woman tucked her sword in, throwing her weight against the man and catching him off balance. Seizing the moment she jabbed twice at her foe's abdomen, not piercing the armor but denting enough to bruise. Berthaldt quickly regained his composure as Isabeau threw him a half-hearted chuckle. "You, on the other hand, haven't changed a bit, have you?"
At first the man seemingly ignored the remark. But with a swipe at Beau's legs, the elder warrior harried his former apprentice across the battlefield. With a dodged kick Halt shoved her away and finally got the space he was looking for. His weapon lowering to the side, the sentinel paused to gather his breath. Beau grunted. "Wait, what's he doin' out there? Is he givin' up?" "Not a chance," Darron muttered as the redhead charged in. Her attack was desperate, no semblance of form or strategy behind it. "Isabeau knows this technique, and she knows that it's too late to run from it. Her only hope is to prevent it." "'Technique'? Standin' still's no technique!""Hush and see."
However, Jule saw nothing. A thin outline of something dark projected from Halt's body right as Beau was poised to strike, and filled the arena. Jule collapsed where she stood. Like a crashing wave, pain flooded her senses, drowning out all other feeling. Her vision clouded into a dark fog like she'd been slammed over the head, and judging from the outlines of the other bystanders, they had felt it too. Even the marquess, who seemed familiar with the Daunting wave, was buckled and clutching his head in pain. The lights dimmed and one by one, shut off. Soon, the intense thrall relented, and the mages started to toss lighting back into the air. "Was that what you meant? W-What was... that?" The marquess exhaled, just as the other . "A special technique. But... Halt only uses those in dire straits. He must be wearing out." Jule never saw the pressure's effect on Isabeau, but she saw the result. The woman was utterly paralyzed with pain. Berthaldt planted his foot squarely in her chest and the yeoman was floored, knocked to the ground like a bundle of stones. "I don't try to fix what isn't broken," Halt growled with great effort. "You'll need an edge sharper than your biting commentary if you want any hope of defeating me."
[Halt: Daunt Used]
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Jule
Thief
Anyone can be great.
Posts: 91
Affinity: Dark
OoC Alias: Zach
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Post by Jule on Oct 16, 2016 15:15:16 GMT -6
Jule could only watch helplessly as her friend lied on the floor, motionless. "What are you doin', Isabeau? You're getting your head handed to you out there! Get back up! You're better than that! C'mon, get back up!"
"Do you yield?" "No." Isabeau coughed, particles of blood dripping down her chin. "Why is it you fight with such conviction?" "You know why." "Still, after so long?" "Yes." "Hrm. I had a feeling."
For a brief moment, Berthaldt stood motionless over Isabeau. To Jule, it seemed as though he was relishing in his victory. However, the victor's chestplate was heaving with every breath he took. He really was wearing down. Which was how Isabeau seized the moment. Propelling herself onto her haunches, the yeoman struck her leg out and swept Halt's feet from under him. She didn't stay behind to watch him struggle. As he lay stunned Beau limped away, unslinging the longbow strapped to her back and nocking an arrow to it. And not a moment too soon; Halt was back on his feet, holding death in his eyes. "Curse this plate of mine. In my prime, I could recover from that in a heartbeat."
Isabeau kited around the knight, peppering him with arrows. Although many had snapped on earlier contact with the ground, and her longbow had bent from being carried. She took care not to aim for his head, but stuck two feathers in his right arm and another in his leg. Halt tossed the claymore to his free hand. He advanced slowly, at first, but as Beau's quiver started to emptied, he charged in. Isabeau dodged around him, kicking at his back. Much to her bewilderment, Halt held firm, bending onto one knee before rising again and slashing wildly. The woman flitted aside again, but a lock of her hair was lost, as well as a chunk of the skin on her shoulder. "You can't dodge forever, and your quiver's nearly emptied. What next?" "You'll see," Isabeau grinned weakly, which would've looked more confident if blood wasn't literally dribbling from her mouth. Halt didn't smile back. The bowman rammed a fist into the side of his face. In retort, the man's blade slashed at her abdomen, carving a shallow cut. Staggering backwards, the woman clutched her stomach in pain. In a chance opportunity, the knight picked the sword up with both hands and swung towards her head in a diagonal crescent. "Yield."
Isabeau had no other choice. The yeoman snarled in resentment, but snatched the blade's descent with the broad side of the bow. The two struggled for a moment, bow wrapped against blade, but the hardened, ornate wood eventually gave way under the unbreakable steel Halt carried, and splintered into pieces. "I said 'no'." The lord slapped her knight with its remains in the longbow's final act of rebellion, before discarding the twig and backing away. The man fumed.
"Don't worry, I still have a plan. I just try to have fun with things when I can." The back of her heel scraped up against her discarded sword, and with a thrust of her boot, the brave sword was back in her hands. "See?" The redhead smirked as she presented it to the knight. "Cleverly done. However, you're running out of energy to pull off more tricks like that. Overexerting yourself like this has led your strength to begin failing you." "Look who's talking, old man. Marquess Araphen must have taught you something of light magic in my absence, because you're projecting onto me pretty hard right now." "Don't overexert yourself like that again, or you'll leave yourself wide open." The woman swung twice in quick succession, one slash finding a chink in his weakened arm. "There's no need for the lesson. I've already learned to always have something up my sleeve."
"Your confidence is telling. Very well then. There's no need for me to prolong this any further. I'll end it now."
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Jule
Thief
Anyone can be great.
Posts: 91
Affinity: Dark
OoC Alias: Zach
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Post by Jule on Oct 17, 2016 17:35:41 GMT -6
"No." Jule turned to glance at Darron, confused. His eyes grew wide with fear, and though the man stood firm, his hands began to shake. "What's wrong? 'S he about to use another one of his techniques?" The marquess could only nod his head at first, watching the duelists with a look of horror on his face. "Ser Halt is on his last ounces of energy, as is Isabeau. But Halt has yet to use the full extent of his strength against her. I fear that, though she may have grown much stronger in our time apart, this last trial will prove to be too much for her." The girl tilted her head back and forth, weighing the marquess' words. On the one hand, Beau seemed like she was getting weaker, but on the other, she was also proving quite troublesome for the Knight Commander. Though his face was transfixed with stoic determination, his breath had grown ragged, and lines of stress wormed their way down across his brow. "I'm sure that she wouldn't've come here if she didn't think she was ready. If she got back up from that last technique 'a his, she can handle anything he's got." Darron sadly shook his head, but could offer nothing in retort.
Halt fended off the yeoman's assault as she drew close again, but only just. With each new strike she took with her a slice from the man's flesh. "Is this what you meant by 'end it now?'" The Commander had no reply, and it seemed he wasn't intent on giving one. Halt swung at Isabeau with a horizontal cut, and though he was repelled, the blade caught on her arm. As she recoiled, the man swung again. And again. Each time pressing closer. The woman's form began to weaken, and her sword began to droop. "You know," she panted. "It's not as fun when you don't even respond."
Again, her remark fell on deaf ears. As Isabeau backed away, something about Berthaldt seemed to change. With each swing of the broadsword the knight's strikes became weaker, but his stride grew harder, and faster. When she blinked, it seemed as though the man was outlined in a supernatural glow of energy. "So that's how it is. I see." Isabeau smirked, though a chill ran down the back of her neck. She knew what he was doing, the tell-tale sign of the calm before the storm. This was it. This was what she'd been training for. She had never successfully managed to defend against this while she was here, but the noble refused to back down now. Isabeau rushed in close with a flurry of blows, locking blades with the man. Isabeau leaned in close to Halt's face, the man's eyes glazed over. "I'm ready for you."
"Good."
Berthaldt's limp arm shot out, grabbing Beau by her collar and shoving her backwards. Once she was out of range, the man paused and took a breath. That instant of clarity gave him all the strength he needed. Halt charged one final time, the sound of his plated boots' clatter against the stone drowning in his war cry. And Isabeau met him. The yeoman bounded forward, bellowing her response as she brought her blade up level with Halt's own. She didn't mean to strike him, the young thief realized. That was clearly a set-up for a parry. Just what was she planning? Though Jule could only just glimpse at it in her confusion, the woman seemed to flicker with a supernatural energy of her own.
Steel met steel, and resolve met resolve as the knight and the warrior met in the center of the arena. The two seemed to stand still for only but a moment, blades sparking against one another, but in the pair's eyes, it was an eternity.
That eternity came to a forceful end as both duelists were uprooted by an unknown pressure, throwing them against opposite corners of the battlefield. Isabeau was flung into the ground, where she rolled to a halt beside her splintered brave sword. Berthaldt, however, was not as fortunate, crashing into the wall right where Jule had been previously standing. His sword clattered to the floor and his head lolled as he slid down the wall, blood dripping down his face.
The room went deathly silent.
[Halt: Smite Used] [Isabeau: Counter Used]
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Jule
Thief
Anyone can be great.
Posts: 91
Affinity: Dark
OoC Alias: Zach
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Post by Jule on Oct 18, 2016 21:10:35 GMT -6
Darron was the first to break free of the room's trance-like state. He glanced at Berthaldt behind him, then whipped towards his daughter's silhouette, crumpled on the floor. Before he could so much as cry out in shock, however, the girl grabbed his shoulder. "Unhand me, girl, my daughter is--!" "The winner! Look!" She pointed to the mass that was Isabeau. It was slight, but as the marquess squinted, he noticed the faintest of stirring. "Halt ain't movin', and she is! That makes her the winner, right?" The noble brushed the thief off, sprinting as fast as his robes would allow, with Jule and two Araphenians in hot pursuit. The rest of the crowd rushed to Halt's side, healers ripping the unconscious man out of his armor.
Marquess Araphen stumbled to the site of Beau's crash landing, falling to his knees. His hand swooped down and propped her head up, cradling the woman with a feather's touch. "My... my daughter, are you well? Truly?" In response the victor reached out and gently rubbed the gathering tears from Darron's eyes. "Don't worry," Isabeau rasped weakly. "I'm only a tad bruised. What of Halt? Is he alright?" The woman tried to sit up, but was immediately accosted by Darron's hand blocking her. Beau grunted. "Father?" "No, not until you've been properly ten--"
"Father." "Isabeau! You're too weak to--" "You're pressing right on my wounds." "O-Oh, right." The marquess relaxed his now bloodied hand, and the woman shot up.
"Halt'll be alright," an elderly healer as she came within earshot. Struggling was an inexperienced young priest, trying, and failing, to keep Jule in check. "The others are seeing to him now. He ought to be roused in a little while. Now tell me, can you--" "Isabeau!!" Jule cried, pushing the two aside. "Howya feelin'? Can you walk? Can you still fight? Can you still--" The old woman put her hand over the child's impetuous mouth. "Leave this to the professionals, young one. Or I'll suture that mouth of yours shut after I handle Lady Isabeau." "Peace, kiddo. As for you, Old Vera." Leaning on her father's shoulder for support, Isabeau gingerly rose to her full height. With a buckle and a sway, she soon found that was the extent of her movement range for the time being. "I can stand. That will be enough for the time being." With a grunt of effort the yeoman sank back to the ground
Vera and her apprentice immediately went to work, Jule squatting adjacent and out of the way. Though she was concerned about her friend, she was more concerned about the battle. Was that really what she was up against in the world? The girl had never seen anyone fight with such raw determination before, or with those... "techniques". And was all of this really for just a sword? It did look kind of nice, and it was magic, but not even Jule would stick her neck out for just a cool sword, no matter how cool it was.
Before the girl could ponder it further, the elderly woman looked up from Isabeau's wounds and gave her verdict. "You'll be right as rain. Fortunately, it doesn't seem like anything here can't be fixed with the old healing touch and a good night's rest. I don't foresee any more scars, either. But be careful from now on. We should be counting our lucky stars that you're still breathing at all after that last blow." Touching a finger to the scars on her face, the woman huffed in agreement. "I can't say I'm the one you should be praising for keeping all of my parts intact." Her hands, lying limp at her sides, suddenly balled into fists. "Damn that old man's soft heart. Even after all this time he's still holding back on me when we fight."
Jule shot up. "You sayin' he's even stronger than you? But that's impossible! I mean, you won, right? Well," the girl side-eyed Isabeau's sword, now lying in pieces on the pavement. "He does seem pretty hard to handle. Maybe I oughta get some pointers from him when he comes to. I wanna break swords like that!" Isabeau tried to laugh, but could only muster a hacking fit of pain as she remembered the pain in her torso. "You're a long ways off from locking blades with him, small fry. Trust me."
The old woman and her apprentice shooed the two bystanders away from their patient as they got to work. The younger woman began to pull several vials of paste from the bag she carried, and Vera raised her staff skyward, chanting in a tongue foreign to Jule's ears. The knuckles on Isabeau's hands tightened to a white-hotness, and suddenly relaxed as the soothing effect of the magic washed over her. Flesh taken by combat grew once more, forming an interlocking mass of muscle and sinew within the cracks of her skin. Fractures in bones mended and fit back into place. Her wounds grew skin and hair once more, and were indistinguishable from the skin surround them, the only signs of their existence the tears in the noble's clothes. "Now, let's hurry you out of that armor and into a bed. You've had quite an evening already." Isabeau grunted, rising to her feet again. For a moment she wobbled with uncertainty, but triumphantly managed to defy her soreness and maintain her footing. "No."
"'No'? But, Isabeau, you can hardly stand. The ceremony can wait." "No, it cannot. It has been long said that Sanguineus does not discern by one's outward appearances, or by one's physical wounds. It only discerns by what's in your heart and your mind. It does not matter how badly injured I am. I am ready. I will not stall any longer." "What of Ser Halt? Would you not want him present?" The Marquess' words pierced Isabeau's defenses, and she reflexively winced. "I suppose... you're right. Very well. Shall we reconvene when Halt is ready?" "No. I am ready."
The nobles turned. Awake and in the flesh stood an armor-less Berthaldt, being tended to by the other clerics. Despite leaving a sizable dent in the wall, he was still kicking. And somehow, without all that armor on, he managed to look just as intimidating for Jule. Maybe even more so, with the limp and the bloodstains on his doublet. "My lord, we must not delay. The entire family is here now, and it would be a waste to squander their time by allowing me to rest. You have use of my strength for as long as you have a need for it."
"Very well." Isabeau paused. "And Halt? You must promise me that when next time we meet in battle, you are to come at me with everything you have. No more holding back." The bearded man nodded solemnly. "Regardless, congratulations on your victory. It was well-earned." On the outside, Halt seemed non-plussed by his defeat at the hands of his former student. But whether it was a trick of the light or the real deal, Jule swore up and down she could see the side of his lip lift in a smile.
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Jule
Thief
Anyone can be great.
Posts: 91
Affinity: Dark
OoC Alias: Zach
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Post by Jule on Jun 27, 2017 15:36:25 GMT -6
"The time is at hand. Everyone, gather close."
The group of Lycians gathered in a tight circle around Sanguineus, with Isabeau, Halt, and the Marquess standing in the center. Despite Jule's initial protests she had been quickly hushed and dragged along into the crowd of family members. From here even she could tell the warriors were worn out from their wounds' sudden recoveries, but as Halt had so bluntly stated, they would be able to carry on as long as necessary. The lights in the hall had once again dimmed with the beginning of the procession, with the remaining magic fractals glimmering throughout the air like so many fireflies.
Berthaldt stepped forward and carefully procured the magic sword from its pedestal, his own blade resting in his retrieved scabbard. The man held it aloft, as if he was giving Sanguineus an inspection of its own, the results of which only known to he. He twirled it between his fingers, with the pommel facing Isabeau.
Halt cleared his throat. "Lady Isabeau Porfino Araphen. Child of Our Lord Marquess Darron Porfino Araphen. My student. You have bested all of the trials I have set forth for you over the past decade, and proven yourself time and time again to be a paragon of Araphen's pride, deserving of the rewards reaped from your hard work. You return home to us now a proud and dignified soul, having honed yourself to a fine point. These are the traits that only a true wielder of the sacred blade Sanguineus may have. From my hands to yours, hold Sanguineus and raise it aloft so that it may judge your previous deeds." The woman, in turn, nodded curtly and grasped the sword's gilded hilt. Her eyes never trembled, her hands never wavered as she lifted the Sanguineus into the air as though she had rehearsed this moment a thousand times before in her head.
"Spirit of Sanguineus, I entreat you. Awaken and determine whether this daughter of Araphen's blood has proven herself worthy of your power."
The runes in the sword's pearly surface weren't visible to Jule before, but as the Knight Commander spoke, they hummed to life with an otherworldly orange hue, like she was staring into the sunset itself. A voice forced itself inside her mind, crackling with war-like intensity yet with the quiet, regal presence of a king. It wasn't speaking, not aloud per se, but it was audible as if it spoke directly into her eardrums. "Very well. Open your heart to me, child, and bear me your thoughts, honest and truthfully. Let me see your desires and your fears as plain as day."
Again the room fell silent, as Isabeau lowered her head and the crowd followed suit. It seemed like everyone knew what they were doing except for her. Jule didn't really understand what was going on, but she promised Isabeau she wouldn't mess this up for her, so she too lowered her head into a cowed silence.
But dang, those sure are some big words. "...dang, that sure are some big words."
What? "What?"
Isabeau let out a confused grunt, her hand held aloft trembling.
"'S she okay?" "What's goin' on?" "That thing looks heavy." "What's with all the fuss over one sword, anyway?" "You can do it, Isabeau! No one's tougher than you!"
"What in the name of Gaea is..."
The mental projection ceased, but the voice remained inside her mind. "Jule Balin. Warrior. Daughter of Larsemer Porfino. Child of Araphen. Your heart and mind are clouded in a hurricane, but you choose to forge on into the future regardless. Your innocence grounds you. Keeps you whole. You feel fear's embrace, but never let it overwhelm in the face of danger. Step forth."
Suddenly, the crowd turned to face the girl, every eye in the room trained on her. Suddenly, she felt very small, smaller than usual. Nobody moved a muscle, they just... stared at her. What was happening? Jule stepped forward hesitantly at first, but with no further instructions from the sword, moved faster until she stood directly adjacent to Isabeau. The trembling woman lowered her arm, presenting Sanguineus to the girl in total shock. "Are you sayin'... you want me? That's not right. Can't be! You're supposed to be for her." She jabbed a finger towards the yeoman. 'Sides, my dad's name is Emer, a-an' I'm from Ostia. You hear me? You got the wrong gal!"
No response.
Jule placed a hand on the blade inquisitively. "Um, you still in there?"
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Jule
Thief
Anyone can be great.
Posts: 91
Affinity: Dark
OoC Alias: Zach
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Post by Jule on Jun 28, 2017 13:07:20 GMT -6
"I see a city. War. Fire. Destruction. Disaster. Evil unearthed in the wake of bloodshed and violence. Tragedy and grief. Refuge for the body but the heart knows no peace. Escape in the midst of yet more bloodshed. You walk the earth to quell the heart and steel the mind. You tame your emotions, yet you still cannot escape them."
"Yes. I see now." Immediately a pulse of energy ran through her palm like she'd been the final component to complete a circuit, its electric pulse free to run along its path. Sanguineus shone with a previously unseen intensity. "I can use you. Temper you. You are what I have been looking for, child of Araphen. I have made my decision."
With the sword in Jule's hands, Isabeau dropped to her knees, pale as a ghost. She sat in stunned silence. Everything she had been working towards for the past decade, every night she laid awake with the burning desire to make her family proud, everything she had ever wanted and more, ripped out of her hands by a child she had always seen as just another pebble in the road to greatness. How could this be? Was fate so cruel that it would place another child in her way? She'd always been fond of Jule, her attitude, her rough-and-tumble style, they were all so like another girl she'd admired. But that was a lifetime ago, when she was young and foolish.
Gloved hands tightened into fists. Indeed. How foolish of her. She should've known it wouldn't have been so easy. This too, was a trial. Another obstacle in her path to overcome, inexorably fated by the stars since the day the two had crossed in their paths. "Listen, small fry..." Isabeau stood up, visibly shaking. Looks like it was time to cross that bridge. It was funny. She expected the girl would try something, but never this. "I thought I told you--" her hand curled itself around Jule's scarf, gripping her neck in an iron-clad vise and lifting the child free from the ground. "Don't get into any trouble while we're here."
"Isabeau--!" "Unhand that child! Have you gone mad?!" The Marquess was the first to react, stumbling forward with his Knight Commander in hot pursuit. "Don't interfere!" She spat, clamping both hands around the girl's neck. "None of you! This is between me and Sanguineus." All Jule could say in her defense was a muted gurgle. "I've spent years of my worthless life hoping to appease you, sword. Was my mother not enough? Nor my sister? Did you decide that watching her life-- Viola's life --bleed away before my eyes a crueler fate than death for my indiscretions? Or was sparing me an act of mercy that day? Is your ego so over-inflated by what you once were that you can't see all the cruelty you've caused in your wake?"
No response.
Isabeau's face pressed against the girl's, her streaming tears intermingling with Jule's own. "I've had enough of your blasted self-righteous prattle! Damned specter, all you've ever done is take from us! From me! Do you hear me?! You're nothing! Less than nothing! You're a pox on the House of Araphen!"
"i-is-beau... please... hurts..."
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