Oh drat, dramawulf ended up on here. Maybe killwulf will too sometime.
Well, nobody died, but I hope fightwulf will suffice.
(23:58:56) Wulfar stands, stripping himself of shirt and arm wear until only his legs and feet remain covered. He drops his items by his saber and tria, and tips a nod to Tanosn while he walks over to Mariana.
(00:00:39) Mariana frowns a bit at the menki's display, puzzling over it. She takes an automatic step back, arching a brow, but then seems to get the better of herself and plants her feet. "Well, however you like to fight I suppose," she says. "Are you ready to begin?"
(00:00:45) Wulfar tightens the leather strips on his hands, flexing them as he does so, claws sheathing and unsheathing as he fixes them carefully."
(00:03:13) Wulfar relaxes into a relaxed, natural posture, his feet forming a slightly curved "L" shape. He raises his paws slightly in front of them, making almost indiscernible motions with them. He begins to circle Mariana to the right, every few feet attempting to make inroads of a few inches on the fenki. His eyes are fixed between the fenki's hips and her blades, and his ears fall flat. His tail swishes slowly back and forth while he moves.
(00:04:37) Mariana observes Wulfar's actions curiously for a moment. She frowns slightly. "Doesn't seem like a fair fight," she admits. "I don't think you can get through my armor with nothing but your paws." Voice trailing off as she watches him, the strength spell she'd infused herself with flickers and dies away, and she too sinks into a comfortable, natural defensive stance. She pivots on the balls of her feet smoothly, following Wulfar with both body and eyes, so that her back isn't facing him.
(00:06:14) Wulfar shrugs, his words coming out as a soft lulling reverberation from the back of his throat. "You'd be surprised." He feints to the right /hard/, his natural speed and the ease of the movement suddenly reversing as he ducks, and jabs with some strength at the fenki's left shoulder
(00:09:53) Mariana falls for the feint, in the process of shifting her swords in anticipation of a block. She leaves the shoulder open in the process, unintentionally, and the blow connects at full force. For a moment the fenki's jaw grinds in pain, the color leaving her muzzle, but she makes no sound whatsoever save for a sharp intake of breath. She recovers and swings her blade towards Wulfar in a counter-attack, aiming to unbalance him with it by going for the knee. However, the power of the blow seems both weakened by her own lingering fatigue and by the pain of the blow the clamod just managed to land.
(00:11:47) Wulfar's face doesn't react as leather and paw connects with hard metal, and his pupils widen when Mari swings her swords. He attempts to use the momentum of his feint-and-hit, lowering his shoulder and leaping off the ground to avoid both the blades and working to bulldoze the fenki over. One of the blades connects with his shin, and he lets out a small yelp of pain.
(00:15:23) Mariana barely has the time to admire the blow she actually managed to land, though she does observe the quick motions of the clamod, with a keen and attentive eye. However, her motions still seem retarded from her last violent death, and though her eyes widen and she moves to step out of the way, she has no way to stop Wulfar short of risking impaling him on her blade with his own momentum. She doesn't try. She takes the hit to her right side and loses her balance, landing on the ground with a whoosh of air escaping her lungs and a muttered obscene adjective afterwards. Instantly she begins scrambling to regain her footing.
(00:19:24) Wulfar lands with a thud, and pushes himself up to his feet with his hands, his eyes still locked on Mariana's body. Realizing the urgent need to stay within reach of the fenki but too close for comfort and blades, he propels himself with both hind legs at her, then brings an elbow up and drops it down swiftly, aiming at the fenki's right knee with force to imbalance with armour, and not near strong enough to cause anything short of causing the fenki to lose her balance once again. As he drops his elbow, his eyes switch to the swords and he attempts to move the legs swiftly from their movement at the fenki to a clamp on the left one, in essence leaving his torso open while working to control Mariana's limbs.
(00:24:00) Mariana snarls, though probably out of frustration rather than anger, as Wulfar's elbow connects with her knee. She stumbles back again, but manages an upright position. She's lost her grip on one of her swords, and she simply leaves it, as it is now out of conceivable reach. Using the other sledge-hammer like, unable to move her legs, she swings it at Wulfar's torso, not hard enough to cause any internal damage, but enough to hopefully stun him so she can regain her footing. There is a strangely frantic air to her motions, her pupils fully slitted not in anger but in terror, and tremors not entirely caused by exhaustion begin to creep slowly like an infection into her limbs as she moves.
(00:25:57) Wulfar lets off a soft smile, but his face remains focused as he sees Mariana's reaction to the blows. Too late, he sees the sword descending, and while he tries to twist out of the way and away from the fenki's body to the grass on her right side, he is still hit, causing him to grimace and let off a small yowl. He works to get up, his hand moving to the side that was hit, and feels at it, working to regain his earlier, relaxed posture while watching Mariana closely for movement.
(00:28:22) Mariana curls her legs into her chest and then hops nimbly back to her feet. She wavers for a moment, but a stubborn shake of her head eliminates the dizziness. She waits for Wulfar again, returning to the same posture as before, patient now. The creeping hysteria seems to have left her for the moment, and again her eyes take on the hard edge, glinting, watching the menki and anticipating what he might next try. She feints to the side to retrieve her lost blade and grips it loosely in her paw, as though the arm that was struck at earlier is experiencing some inconvenient pains.
(00:30:48) Wulfar lets out a whuff of air, and straightens, with obvious signs of real pain. He begins circling Mariana to the left this time, and his hips swing out and then down, his right foot kicking out at the fenki's legs in a sweeping motion. As he moves through the motion he also attempts to launch out of it at the end, in expectation of swords descending. He may not be fast enough. His eyes remain focused on the torso of the fenki he spars with, eyes narrowing.
(00:35:02) Mariana's eyes catch the motion from Wulfar. Her reaction is swift as her eyes shift with every twitch of his muscles, and she moves to her left, with the strike, reducing some but not all of its force. She stumbles noticeably, and instantly her swords swings at the menki's arm, aiming to give a blow with enough force to knock him to the side or at least away. However, as he anticipates her blow, they whiz past him, successfully leaving her torso open to attack.
(00:39:10) Wulfar's elbow bends, and his torso doubles over while he spins out of Mariana's blows. His body is now situated low a few feet away from her right torso, and his stance is almost crouched because of the leverage used to avoid her swords. From this position, he cocks back with his elbow and drives a closed fist directly at the plate armor covering the midriff of the fenki, aiming to knock the wind out of her. The blow, while well-aimed, does not have typical force behind it because of Wulfar's awkward footing.
(00:42:14) Mariana grunts at the blow, wincing slightly as her bruised ribs complain loudly. She takes a step back as a result, a calculating look in her eyes now. She tries to take advantage of Wulfar's already unfamiliar stance to further unbalance him by aiming a second blow at his bent legs, shifting her sword in a quick flat-side slap at the weaker area of the menki's knee.
(00:44:37) Wulfar buckles at the knee, his other one splaying out to brace with the impact. He lowers even further and his upper body straightens. He attempts to hobble backwards, his left-side arm rubbing at his knee softly while his eyes scan the fenki in front of him. He sends her a quick smile and a dip of the head, attempting to maintain a semi-safe distance; "You look well, Mari." he flicks his ears, "And fight better."
(00:47:29) Mariana blinks at the praise, a ghost of a frown flickering across her face for a mere second before she slaps on a mockingly cocky smirk. "Same to you, though it's hardly a fair fight. Fists against armor can't do real damage. Though I have to admit I'm already feeling some bruises...I imagine your paws aren't happy with you either." Shifting hesitantly to a more relaxed stance, she lets her blades dip to touch the tips of the grass blades at her feet. "You're observant," she continues, a certain tightness in her eyes. "Something very important in a fighter. It can give you a win against opponents who might have more experience than yourself."
(00:50:15) Wulfar shrugs, "You still don't trust me." he says, simply, and ducks left, bobs right, and attempts to work his way directly at Mariana's midsection, movements quick and concise. Near the end of his second move, he pauses for a millisecond, his ribs and knee causing a hitch in the otherwise would-be fleet-footed moves. At the end of the display, jabs once with his left at Mariana's right shoulder across his own torso, and once with his right at the lower right sternum of the fenki.
(00:54:57) Mariana's eyes widen in surprise, not having anticipated the attack. She takes an instinctive step backwards, realizing she's just left herself totally open to the assault. Raising the blade in her left paw, she manages to parry the attack to her sternum, albeit awkwardly, but she is not able to raise the other as effectively. A pained grunt is heard, and her paw unclenches as a tremor of reaction travels down it, causing her to drop the other weapon to the ground where it sticks firmly in the soil below. She spins herself to the side, but it's clear that weariness is growing on her, and the motion is slowed by this fact. She faces Wulfar again, holding her single sword with two paws now. "I do trust you," she snaps back, forcefully.
(00:58:38) Wulfar again grits his teeth as his fist connects with dulled blade instead of armor. Though impact is expected, his eyes still close to slits momentarily. Seeing Mariana's sword drop and wary of her other one, he side-steps away from the fenki and begins circling her again, as if prowling. Hs tail flicks back and forth with apparent agitation, and each step is slowed with a hitch, pain causing ripples of taut muscle to run through his legs and side, all the way up into his arm. "You do not. You look at me as if I am something /unholy/" he snaps out, pain apparent now in his eyes as well. He continues circling, tail swishing even faster. "I do not feign to know you as well as you perhaps know me, but there is something you do not let on." he fakes an attack, a swift jab with his right fist, although it is probably apparent that it is not nearly far enough to penetrate the fenki's defenses. "I believe I have some sort of right to know."
(01:03:15) Mariana reacts automatically to Wulfar's motion. There is a flinch, and a raising of her sword in anticipation, but when no blow comes near enough to to damage, she switches to circling Wulfar, countering is motions simply by mirroring them. Her own tail twitches, along with a telling tic in her left eye. "It's not you," she explains shortly. "It's got nothing to do with you, Wulfar." Frustration seems to be growing in her, at having been read to apparently easily, and it shows in the tremor that begins to shake her armor, radiated from the muscles beneath her skin. Her steps go from smooth to somewhat choppy, jagged, her breathing harsh and labored as the exertion of the fight takes its tole. "The knowledge is not relevant," the fenki asserts with forced coolness. "What's past is past."
(01:05:59) Wulfar shakes his head, his own movements coming slower and without as much of the grace he seemed to possess earlier in the fight. He feints another jab at the fenki, this time plunging downwards and then a sharp up at her midsection, heedless of the blade she carries. "The knowledge is /relevant/, Mariana. I will never begin to understand you without it." he lets out with a grunt as he makes the move; "I /trust/ you! Yet you deem me worthless, I might say." breath coming hard.
(01:09:24) Mariana's breath leaves her lungs. More than just tired, she seems entirely distracted now, distress evident on her face from the content of the conversation. She loses her grip on the opposite blade and lets it, too, sink into the soft earth, while she herself back-peddles away from the agitated menki. She flexes her fingers and shifts back to a defensive stance, watching him concernedly, ears pinned flat against her head and muzzle twitching. "Fine," she retorts, a hard edge evident in her voice. "Have it as you will, I will tell you, but not here." Feet carrying her another pace back, she maintains her prepared position, eyes growing glassy.
(01:11:58) Wulfar's jaw muscles grow tight, and as Mariana backs away, he lowers his fists and his posture relaxes. He still seems almost prowling, his eyes narrow and locked onto the fenki. Soon, he gasps sharply, but attempts to hide it with a stamp of his foot and a cough following shortly after. He gives a nod, pride evident in his stance as he straightens regardless of his multiple bruises.
(01:14:25) Wulfar grits his teeth, and his nostrils flare, several more sharp breaths escaping like bars being rattled at a prison through his nose. "You will." he states, and then walks over to his clothing, pulling it on roughly over his bruised body. He gathers his tria bag and saber, strapping them on with almost no care or thought given, and turns to face Mariana; "You could've done much better, you know." he half accuses/querys, and walks back to near her and Sarras.
(01:11:07) Sarras throws her arms out to the sides. "What?!" Agitatedly, she shouts, "You'd rather figuratively spill each other's guts than literally?! What's wrong with you people?"
(01:16:00) Wulfar turns to the elf, pain flitting in spasms as his welts pain him off and on. "You can spar with me tomorrow, if you please. I'm more than willing to test my luck again." he watches the elf shortly, expression still stony. "If it's guts you want, I have them plenty enough to spill. I don't give a damn if I do, either."
(01:17:41) Mariana stoops to pick up her blades, sheathing them quickly and moving with a lethargic, agonized slowness. When she straightens, her expression bears a strange blankness, and to Wulfar's implication she gives a gentle shrug. "I've found that beating people down doesn't always teach them much about the fight," she replies calmly. A smile creeps into her voice. "And if I'd knocked you on your ass I could not have gauged accurately what fighting prowess you might possess." She reaches up to grip at her shoulder with a grimace, rolling it very cautiously to assess the bruising and damage done to the sensitive tendons. She does the same to the other, and slowly brings to gaze around to the flustered elf. "Sometimes words are harder than steel." A statement, spoken with utmost confidence.
(01:21:49) Wulfar nods, a slight smile forming on the corners of his otherwise hard mouth. "Without your amor, perhaps next time. Maybe sometime you'll pit just paws against me?" he trails off his last few words, then shakes his head as if realization is striking him. He then turns from Sarras to Mariana, and gives her a long, hard stare - amber/orange eyes deeply tuned into the fenki's expressions and words. "I apologize if I hurt you, Mariana." he finally lets out, walking slowly and with obvious pain to the fenki. He grins, although it is less a smile than an attempt to lighten conversation. "Do not expect it to get you out of telling me anything."
(01:22:48) Sarras drops her arms to her sides. "All you two do are talk, talk, talk. Cry, cry cry. Whine, whine whine." Her mouth is twisted in disgust, and her head tilted as she gives the two condescending glares. "I swear. You're practically married, with the way you... do... all that dramatic, emotional rivnak shit!" A stomp on the grass ends her point.
(01:25:21) Mariana cranes her neck slightly to look up at the menki. Her eyes are hooded and dulled, no hint of tears in her eyes, despite the elf's rant. "I do not fight hand to hand. I prefer to keep my opponent at arm's length." Tail twitching, the fenki takes in Wulfar's words with a soft, subtle nod. At his statement a faint detection of frustration and anxiety appear, and she merely affirms her agreement with a dip of her chin. "I've had worse than a few blows with fists. It's nothing terribly novel." There is a small space where she stops speaking, thinking, slowly, over her next statement. "I give you my word. I will tell you what you want to know."
(01:30:24) Wulfar's ears flatten at Sarras's statement, and it is obvious that he is wrestling to control his emotions towards the statement for a few minute moments because the muscles in his neck and arms bulge ever-so-slightly. Finally, he is calm; breathing normal, relaxed, and the only indicator something is wrong are the bruises on his hands, side, and the hitch in his gait due to his knee being struck. He nods slowly when Mariana speaks first of her combat, answering in turn; "There is something less personal about swords. They kill too quick, and it does not let you know who you fight. Why they fight, and what gives them the will to struggle against you to stay alive." he pauses at this statement, eyes hooding for a few moments. Finally, he again speaks. "When will you tell me?" he asks, shortly and respectfully. With these words, he dips his head and defers to the fenki with a sense of respect offered in the movement.
(01:33:31) Sarras's face droops, and she closes her eyes. Disappointed that her outburst had little effect, she lets out a short, high-pitch growl. When she's finished her miniature fit, she begins muttering a colorful string of insults about furry people.
(01:34:35) Mariana's eyes flick to Sarras, and then back to Wulfar. She breathes in deliberately, perhaps somehow perturbed by the elf's insult, or maybe struggling already to uphold her end of the bargain due to Wulfar's apparent eagerness. Her eyes shift away from the clamod's face and to her bracers, absently, tracing the minute red and orange lines, and the detailed filigree, letting her thoughts wander upon aimless tracks and thus recover some of its composure. She finishes and forces her gaze to hone itself directly back on his face, a quick motion not unlike peeling the gauze off a wound whose blood has tried tightly to the fabric. "Not now. You and I both need rest after our little bought, I should think. Later. Tomorrow evening, do you know of the tower, the way to the top of the Laanx temple?" A smile passes over her features to hide veiled disgust at Sarras' words, but she makes no comment. "I will lead you there if you do not. And you can pose your questions to me freely, then."
(01:41:29) Wulfar shuffles his feet, looking down for a few seconds. His hands move to his injured side, and he knuckles again at the once freshly-healed ribs that rest gently under his leather. He starts a braid in his left arm, the pattern swooping up, down, and around in a simple knot of velvety fur as his fingers swiftly twine the pattern. His gaze also appears perturbed, and the emotion lies deep in his eyes, like a sallow lake finally exposed to air and the rancid truth rising to the top. Finally, he nods, once. "I can wait. I am not hurt." he lies, a breath hissing through his teeth at the end of the words; "But tomorrow would be good. I do not know the top of this tower at all. . . You will have to show me." A look of concern then flickers on his face, "Is it safe to leave the tavern you think? If I want to look around a bit, in Hydlaa?"
(01:51:28) Wulfar runs his left hand through the fur on the top of his head, the motion slow and almost rough. He looks around the green of the arena for a few moments, but soon enough his eyes return to rest on those of Mariana, and his brows drop into a worried line at the fenki's grin - obviously spotting it to be something other than jovial. As he notes this, his own smile forms on his face, kindred to the fenkis, but his appearing more real as a dry reaction to hers. "I do not think," he starts slowly, words fumbling from his mouth; "That I will leave Kada's until you come." he finishes with wavering certainty. "I feel eyes watching me even when I step into and lock my room." he purses his lips in thought, "But I will be good until tomorrow, I think. A bed does sound good." he makes a motion at Mariana as if playfully nudging her across the air, but intakes swiftly with a 'eep' as pain instead sweeps across his bruised ribs. He retracts the movement ruefully and instead sends a swift, almost imperceptible smile. "We have a deal, then. And I would not mind another spar. You fought something else tonight, and I do not think I learned much other than your armor is as solid as it looks."
(01:55:32) Mariana lets out a wry chuckle at Wulfar's last statement. "Hard as steel, as it were," she states rather dryly. She hesitates for a second, seeing the effect her reactions have on the clamod, watching his parroting of her facial expressions. A two way street, as it were. "You need to get that looked at. I am sorry, I didn't mean to damage you." Advancing, she lowers herself to a crouch, out of eye level, and moves to press her paw lightly against his side, considerate of his tender bruising. "I'm no healer, but I can mend the little things, sometimes," she whispers. Light twinkles in the palm of her paw, forming a concentrated ball, as she tries to send these warm, healing energies into the damaged tissue in Wulfar's side. If nothing else, it might at least alleviate some of the soreness and the pain. Her eyes close as she works, and a soft, familiar humming can be heard, a strain constantly looping quietly, subconsciously.
(02:01:15) Wulfar blinks as Mariana moves to touch him, but grits his teeth and allows it, ears only flattening a few millimeters from their original position, then flicking back up. He watches her form the ball of light, curiosity mixed with something akin to disdain crossing his features, but he drops it and appears stunned for a second at his own thought process. He chuffs softly as the light enters his side slowly, and stretches as a subconscious response, surprise again crossing his face when pain, thought felt, is not as apparent. He reaches up his right paw to scratch a line across his muzzle gently, and begins to hum along. At first, his humming is muted and patchy, but as memories are resurgent and Mariana's voice continues in the tune, he catches on, the song emanating from deep in his throat, low and resonant.
(02:01:36) Wulfar says: I'll be alright, I promise. . . Though I didn't know you could heal.
(02:05:25) Mariana smiles faintly as she stands up again. Something about the melody seems to have relaxed her, and now she looses her tightened muscles from their nearly tetanic tension, her feet flat on the ground rather than poised and prepared for sudden and swift movement. She stops humming, reluctantly, and cranes her head to the right in thought. "Not nearly as accomplished as Teshia, no. I barely grazed the surface of how to heal. Bumps and bruises are about all I can do, all things considered. But if you break a bone or lose a limb all I can do is hold your paw and coo soothing things at you." Laughter bubbles in her chest to show the situation described is only a jest, and she studies the change in Wulfar's posture, searching his eyes for traces of undue pain. After a span of silence, she prompts, "We should go rest, now. Back to the tavern. I will go with you. You've had enough excitement for one day, I think, and some ice, perhaps, would be nice for those blunt blows." She walks towards the tunnel and turns to peer over her shoulder expectantly, the smile on her muzzle less forced and more genuine.
(02:09:51) Wulfar nods softly, returning the smile. He stands for a few seconds, a searching look in his face. When it is seemingly apparent to him that he will not find his answer, he strides after the fenki, slow, measured steps no longer halted by the hitch or pain felt earlier. He laughs softly again, more this time at himself than anything, and flexes his paws for a few seconds. As he walks, he begins to undo the leather strips bound to his hands and deposits them in his pouch. His knuckles in particular appear a deep, raw red, and his skin is still, if not moreso, bruised than before. Catching up slightly to Mariana, he turns his head to her, tilting it ever-so-slightly. "Thank you. For sparring, and healing." he says, leaving something unsaid hanging in the air. At this, he speeds his pace, and makes his way towards the tavern, a bed, and the warm waters that Allelia could provide.
