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Snippet #1474258

located in Norr, a part of The Gift: Chapter Two, one of the many universes on RPG.




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The observant deep human sat back and tried to take his mind off the last crossbow. Of course, when they drew sharpened swords fresh-from-the-armory, the man got a little worried. Training was fine and all, but hacking at each other is a bad idea without blocks. However, he decided to remain on hold. The human looked like he knew what he was doing. After the initial blow, he was not so sure. Kisikoni was never truly a weapons fighter. He knew that weapons were an extension of the hand, but he felt more at home up-close and personal. A fist-fight was where he really excelled, which is why he watched with fascination when the beserker contorted his body to block the back-shot from the Assassin Elf. He knew the reasonings behind body mechanics, which is what his fighting stems on- the knowledge of how limbs can move.

As the third contact took place Kisikoni began to worry for the healing Beserker. Instructional fighting was fine and all, but with the Assassin taking advantage of his weak spots with her blinding speed, there might be blood. Of course, he trusted the elf not to intentionally harm, but if Caine didn't react quickly enough even a dulled weapon could hurt him. And that'd just be trouble for the medics.

Spectating the fight began to put a little hop into Kisikoni's own hands. He wanted to get in on this, but this was an instructional fight. If anything, he could probably teach them a thing or two about hand-to-hand combat, but when it came to weaponry, he was only at about the same level as them. Give or take. He was beginning to get an idea of how the two fought in combat. As pertaining to their names, Talae often relied on her speed and agility to attack weak points. Caine liked to force opponents into submission. Kisikoni began to think about his own habits when fighting, and decided to try and correct them- as habits often lead into patterns, and patterns could easily be predicted by a dextrous enemy.

The Nightmarian Spider giggled at the remark. "Oh yes. Grim little bastards, no?" She replied. Neira, huh? She could get used to her. She was only half-serious with her remark about the ants, but her eight eyes did catch the subtle reaction. She remembered fondly the many denizens of the hive-city. She wondered if the Queen was still alive.

She decided to answer the Dragonfly's question. She saw no reason in enlightening her, especially after her fifth glass and her vision was already blurred as hell. "Me? Dear, I haven't seen Ecclavaria in over ninety years." She said, almost amused at how much time had passed since her expulsion. "I was exiled. Didn't want to fight in a war against other races. I was an idiot, because what am I doing now? Fighting." She laughed. "The one thing I haven't forgotten was this." She held her glass up to the sky, sloshing some liquor onto the bar table. In an instant, the liquid had gone down her throat. She paused. She almost forgotten her manners.

"My name is Murecialga Yan'vega. Mercy for short, dear." She hesitated slightly, her voluminous red eyes returning to the next glass. "Tell me, dear. How were things in the little Hive City before you left?"