|
Post by Vincent on May 16, 2015 6:51:04 GMT -6
It had been a long time coming but Vincent had at long last reached the sandy shores of the Western Isles. He stood in awe at the edge of the pier as he gazed out to sea. It was incredible, never before had he seen such a sight. Surely any back home would be jealous, if a tad skeptical. The breeze here was a constant presence and the air smelled and tasted of salt. The only drawback Vincent could find with this place would be that of the sun. There was nowhere for one to escape its watchful presence and beaming heat. With that in mind he shrugged his bags higher and strode into town with the confidence of a first rate mercenary. He decided to relish this time in such a pleasant locale while he could, for soon he would be in the far off northern lands of the uninhabited and permafrost Illia. As the young man rounded a corner he saw the tavern where he would meet the rest of the crew and the men that would be setting up shop after they landed. According to the information he was provided, there are a number of others already at the settlement and he is to be part of a supporting group. Ilium certainly wants the materials that can be found in that area, he thought. The Hogwash: convincing name. Entering the tavern he was assailed by all manner of noise and people: Sailors and pirates, merchants and locals, no matter who it was finding the man in charge looked to be a daunting task. He decided to simply start with the basics and ask for the man in charge, Davian. “Eyy, I may know a Davian, course I may not, as you can see I deal wit a lotta folks here. But my mind is usually nicely jogged by the clinking of coins. Funny thing really.” The barkeep was ever so helpful. He knew the man but was out for an extra coin or two. Vincent did not relish in dallying around and relented to the crook. “You’re a cheat, you know that.” He offered his jab and turned over a silver. “Oh hey, ow you expect me to hear the klinkin if ya don’ give me more than one?” Vincent frowned at the persistent old coot. As he reached into his wallet once more he was about to produce silver when a small hand clasped down onto his shoulder. “I can take it from here Gareth,” it was the voice of a woman. Vincent looked to see a young shaman standing beside him. She was slightly shorter than him with a hooded cloak concealing her frame and face. Vincent must have made a bewildered face as she continued with, “Don’t worry, I’m with Davian… oh, you were wandering the tavern with the flier so freely it was hard… not to notice.” Her face was obscured but Vincent was fairly certain she was smiling at him beneath her hood. Was it warm, condescending, strained? He had no clue. "I see…" he felt a tad embarrassed for being so obvious and felt his face flush. Clearing his throat he turned to face the woman squarely and offered her his armored hand. “My name is Vincent Clark. I wish to join the expedition as a marine and then to further this as a hired hand and guard for the new colony. At least until a road can be established.” The woman looked at the hand for a moment before offering hers in a shake. Vincent noticed her hand had a ring with cloth sleeves attached part of a bodysuit perhaps? “Well, you do appear to be armed to the nines and you’ve got the eye scar going for you. I think Davian may just hire you. Come with me and I’ll take you to him. He is in a room upstairs.” Almost as if gliding across the floor the woman turned and began to lead the way.
|
|
|
Post by Vincent on May 16, 2015 8:02:23 GMT -6
Vincent obediently followed going up the wooden and creaking staircase. For all that this tavern left to be desired he had to admit that the place was rather nice. It was well lit and decorated, and the wood was all sanded and polished. The Hogwash had his recommendation on those things alone. “So, what kind of man is this Davian anyway?” Vincent inquired. It was always best to arm him with knowledge beforehand and prepare a counter strategy for all occasions. But he never did have to do much talking, well save with Near… that was a whole other kind of talk though. The woman spared a glance back at him before humming to herself as if thinking on the matter. How complicated an answer could it possibly be? “Well, he is a man that adapts to all things that come his way. He is a loner and a leader. He is a weary man and a strong man that keeps the people dear to him close. He is the last man I’d ever wish to see angry, never have I seen his ire raised, nor have I ever seen him lose in combat. Or take it seriously for that matter.” The answer was not quite what he was expecting but it was acceptable he decided. It sounded like the shaman saw a number of faults but still respected him greatly, perhaps that would be a good sign. It was now that he realized he had yet to get the name of this shaman. “Oh, I just realized, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of your name yet.” The two leveled out at the top of the stairs and the shaman kept going. Vincent paused briefly expecting a reply but she remained silent. To this he frowned before hurrying to catch up. The two stopped outside an oak door with the number 8 carved into the doorframe. “Davian is inside. Wait for me to let you in. I’ll get him ready for you.” The shaman cracked the door open as though to keep Vincent from seeing inside before slipping in and disappearing. Left alone with his thoughts Vincent crossed his arms and looked around. What was the point of all this secrecy, should not they just be happy to have a volunteer to join their mission? Across from him was a bust of an ox head. Its marble eyes starred at him blankly leaving him feeling uncomfortable. His foot began to tap on instinct and his head swiveled to and fro. He needed something other than that creepy bust. Moments passed painfully and Vincent grew impatient, placing his ear to the door he attempted to listen in. “-enough people- … -fruit-… -space-“ was all he could make out. They must have been talking logistics. In which case he’d need to prove he was a necessity, not just a boon. How should he market himself? Perhaps gloating about the siege would do it, but he’d much rather leave that to history and not have his name known far and wide for it. It was bad enough people were calling him Heelcutter. He stepped back from the door not a moment too late as it opened wide, the shaman girl standing before him. His face betrayed him as it showed with all his surprise before he regained his composure. “Alright, he’s ready for you.” The shaman stepped aside and waited by the door as Vincent entered. Eyeing the room he noticed two men in the far corner, one was smoking and wore a hat and the other? He was a giant. They must be some major muscle for this Davian. His gaze falling now to Davian himself he saw a man not too different from any other, except for the white hair. Davian was slightly taller than Vincent by two inches and had a stronger build with a trimmed beard. He sat with one leg over his other with a large map over the table. Vincent stood tall trying to appear dignified. “Take a seat headband,” the very first words of this Davian reflected those of many others, headband. Vincent was growing tired of that name, perhaps it was well due time that he adopted a new headpiece. Regardless he did as he was told and sat in the chair provided. Davian lifted a kettle of tea from his side and poured himself a cup before motioning a questioning gesture to Vincent. “Yes please,” he did not want to be rude. As he poured the second glass he spoke bluntly, “I’m told you wish to join our little… voyage as a guard; and that’s all well and good but, we don’t need any more people. We head out on the morrow and you so happen to show up last minute expecting the job? Sloppy work ethic is what I get from that.” Vincent clenched a fist in annoyance but kept his mouth shut. Davian slid the tiny saucer with the cup of tea to Vincent. “Now, I’m not going to refuse you outright. You’re young and that tells me inexperienced and stupid, but you have a look about you. A look that says you’ve seen a lot of s*** all the same.” He leaned back in his seat propping his boots onto the table. Vincent could not help but notice how clean the bottoms were, surprising. “So, the deal is you give me a rundown of your experiences and you fight me in a duel. If I’m impressed then you get the job, if not, then goodbye.” “That seems fair enough.” “It is.” Vincent mentally stumbled at the rapid and sharp tongued man but kept his composure. He began to recount his journey up until now, being careful to downplay most of his adventures. Come to think of it he had quite the unique life up until now. He made no mention of finding Phoenix Heart or the entire ordeal avenging Neil. When he mentioned the Siege on Hero City the man leaned in closer clearly taking an interest. “What was it like?” “Pardon?” Vincent was unsure what he was asking. “What was it like to see that monster Hargus? I’ve heard tale of his monstrosity.” Why did he care about that particularly? Then again, it could be morbid curiosity or the fact that he had a firsthand account of such an infamous legend. Vincent looked down at his hands and twiddled his thumbs, “It… it was like looking into Hell itself. I would much prefer not dwelling on such a time if that be fine by you.” His hands shed so much blood that day. He had killed so many, so freely, it was unlike him normally. Davian nodded as if in sympathetic understanding. “Well, you have quite the tale to tell. If you came out of that hell hole on the better half of it than I hope your skills will live up to that.” He stood which prompted Vincent to do the same. Vincent looked at Davian and realized he intended to head into the dual immediately. They were afforded no time to waste he supposed. “Alright, I just have one requirement for this match.” “Want me to fight with a hand behind my back?” Davian taunted the boy, not approving of conditions. Vincent smirked and shook his head, “No, unless you really want to. My condition is this, hold nothing but the killing blow back.”
|
|
|
Post by Vincent on May 17, 2015 9:54:52 GMT -6
All who were present in the room followed out to the outskirts of the port town. Davian and Vincent stood 30 meters apart. Davian was accompanied by his two guards and for whatever reason Vincent could not fathom the shaman was by him. Perhaps she felt pity for him and thought he needed a little support. It did not matter, he was not going to lose. “Hey Davian, why are you doing this? Why not just let the kid join?” Jace, the man with the hat inquired. Davian ignored the question and proceeded to adjust his shield so that it would fit his arm comfortably. “I’ll have this matter settled shortly and we will be back in time to enjoy the night to its fullest. I think I saw a young barmaid that was quite easy on the eyes.” Jace sighed exasperatedly, “You never take things seriously do you?” “He’s nothing more than a, snot nosed kid that somehow managed to survive this long. I’ll humble him quickly and send him on his way. It will be better for him than to go north with us.” Davian’s words were full of disdain, like someone talking about a swarm of maggots bursting forth out of their food. Jace had no idea why Davian cared so much but the man was known for his fickle moods. “Alright, alright; just keep an eye out for any tricks.” Pulling his hat lower he began to set his pipe. “He’s going to destroy you, you know?” the shaman spoke with certainty as though it were fact. There was no hint of malice in her voice. Vincent gave a sideways glance to show his irritation as he refitted his gauntlets. “You never did give me your name and now you’re talking down to me. I should call you miss sunshine.” The shaman did not appear to react but looked over towards Davian. “He never did say your goal was to win, just to impress.” The woman looked back to Vincent before approaching him. “I can offer you a few pointers on his style if you’d li-“ “No thank you,” Vincent cut her off. “He does not know my skill, and I don’t know his. It is a fair fight and I would like to keep it that way. If he’s as good as he fancies himself then I will test my strength on him.” With that declaration he stretched and grabbed is blades. “That is an odd arrangement you have there. The swords do not seem compatible to any sound style.” The shaman observed. Vincent decided not to indulge in the argument in lieu of stepping into the ‘arena.’ Relaxing with both blades at his side he stood ready to go. “Ready when you are Davian.” Davian grabbed his sword and faced the young mercenary. “Your words were hold nothing but the killing blow back correct? Don’t be too angry if I add a new mark or two to your face.” He was egging Vincent on and Vincent knew it but it did not make him any less intolerable. “Now come, let me show you how a real man fights.” He offered no warnings but quickly rushed forward giving little in the way of time to react. Vincent lowered his head dissatisfied by the action and twisted his body right revealing his Gargoyle Tusk dagger. It whizzed forth with a whoosh prompting Davian to quickly raise his shield. The blade struck with a thud and would have fallen to the ground if not for the leather binding it to Vincent’s blade. With a sharp tug at the right time it came right back. That was… unexpected, what kind of material was that? Davian had no time to dwell on that matter as the boy was quick to charge him. Davian braced himself for the impact and pushed his shield forward against it. The boy hit harder than he expected but he’d still held out against far worse. In a moment the hook at the end of the one blade peaked over the top and taking the opportunity he raised the shield catching the sword and twisting his body he took it from his hands. Davian took Phoenix Claw from him but he left his flank wide open in doing so. With Phoenix heart Vincent quickly thrust his blade with a lunge in an attempt to strike his left leg. It was a clear shot and ought to have been an easy blow to make but it was not to be so. The man had ripped it away and continued the spin redirecting the thrust with his own blade moments before impact. Vincent’s body moved entirely to his left and then…
|
|
|
Post by Vincent on May 17, 2015 11:16:54 GMT -6
Vincent woke with bleary eyes and an intense pain that threatened to send him back to sleep. He could not cry out in pain, he could not say anything, he merely groaned. “Oh good, you’re still alive, but I think your jaw may be broken. Should be able to get that MOSTLY taken care of.” The shaman was looking him over as events came back to him. Oh yeah, he lost. He was now lying flat in the grass with a distinct taste of blood. The shaman aided Vincent in sitting up as Davian came with a local cleric. The break was mended but the process threatened to take him out again. His jawbone shifted and grinded back in place before a loose sealing could be felt in them. His mouth ached and caused an intense migraine. “Don’t eat anything too hard for a while but you should be fine to talk and go about daily activities again.” With that advice the cleric went about their business. Vincent did not bother to stand, his body was still too weak for it. He looked up to Davian to see what the victor had to say. “That was a pitiful display kid. It was over in what?” He looked at Jace, “Less than a minute?” “I believe so.” “Right,” Davian looked back at the boy. “You fight like a wild barbarian. There is no sense to it and it’s completely wild and reckless. Have you ever trained a day in your life? Have you ever won a duel with a SKILLED combatant? I don’t mean some no name bandit leader either.” The words were harsh to hear, Vincent prided himself on his skills despite never being taught formally. But he had to admit he had never won any duels. He lost every time to Neil, Near, Duma, and even James was beaten by Phoenix Heart more than himself. The boy looked down at the grass as though it had the answers for him. It was like he was being scolded by a parent. “Well… I am self-taught and no, I have never won any duels.” Despite all his efforts his opponents were better at conserving their aces than he was and would always lose out to them. Most recently Duma’s blade technique was truly something incredible. “I see. If you keep this up then you’ll simply get yourself killed. Believe me, there are a whole host of men that could kill me without any effort. But, I guess this just means someone will have to train you properly. That is my condition to let you join us.” Vincent looked up in disbelief and confusion. “I thought I was meant to impress you.” “In a way you did. I was impressed you managed to LIVE THIS LONG!” Davian bellowed a laugh that the large man joined in on. The boy still carried a dumb look however and Davian sighed. “In other words you’re hired, but you’ll have to pay your taxes.” He turned to the shaman, “Take him to the ship so he can drop his pack. After that have him meet back in my room. You want in so badly, then you’ll be my er, ‘squire.’” Vincent was in disbelief still. Should he be angry or glad? Before he had time to decide he was on his feet and walking towards the docks. His haze was clearing as he was finally realizing what was happening. “Frankly, I don’t know what to say to all this.” “What is there to say, you got the job AND a new instructor.” The shaman carried a hint of jealousy in her voice. “This trip is going to be many times harder for you now, you sure you don’t want to run away? I hear Davain’s ‘squires’ never last long.” Normally the boy would argue but he DID take this job in order to get stronger. “I don’t very much LIKE him but… he is at least someone worth having as a teacher. I’ve never been beaten that badly and well, if I learn from him maybe I won’t be ever again.” The docks sang with a kadunk kadunk kadunk, as the two walked. So the shaman didn’t actually float. It was an absurd thought to begin with but confirmation was a bit more easing on the mind. “I suppose I owe you my name since we’ll be seeing a lot of each other now.” The two were just outside the ship as the shaman turned and faced him. “Yeah, that might be for the best, calling you shaman girl would be a mouthful and likely insulting.” “A little. My name is Lavinia, and like you I am also Davian’s apprentice.” “But you’re a shaman and he’s a swordsman. Doesn’t that only get in the way?” “Well, apprentice may not be too accurate when compared to you but you know, I used to have spells blow up in my face and I’d get sent into seizures every so often. Davian helped me work through all that despite not knowing any magic himself.” The same as Neil… “Sounds like a good guy. You sure that was really Davian back there?” “Don’t tell him I told you but he’s only trying to intimidate you. He’s really a good guy.” “He broke my jaw!” “Eh, details.” The shaman shrugged. “Anyway, tomorrow will come quickly so I suggest you set your things in order now. Ship work and training WON’T be easy.” The shaman waved and ‘glided’ away. It dawned on him, would he ever see her face?
[End Thread]
|
|