Atharen, A Fantasy Roleplay Forum

Posted: **Thu Nov 04, 2021 6:30 pm**

15th of Ash, 4621

A simple enough task, he supposed. An utter waste of his abilities, but he supposed it had to be done. The things he could do in the time it took him to walk to the market and back if he wasn’t made to serve some pig… he sighed, releasing his frustrations into the air around him. Why did he care what he was made to do? His compliance was all a front, regardless of how demeaning and annoying his tasks were. He was only in it for the Veir’s necromancy. Once he had that, there was nothing holding him to the fortress.
To say that he didn’t care much for his position was an understatement. If anything, he hated it. He looked back on the years he spent in the frozen woodland outside of Nivenhain, lumber camps, coal mines, smelteries, and thought of how the nobility had extorted his labor for their own unduly lavish lifestyles. It was their misuse of their power that started the young rath on his anarchies, but he was at least given an unlivable wage for his time.
This, the life he lived now, was debatably worse. He received no payment, he worked every waking minute of the day to clean and sweep, he ate table scraps, and addressed anyone who wasn’t dressed in the same burlap rags as him with the utmost respect, even if they trampled his cleaning equipment or shut doors in his face. Hard labor was one thing, but service? All the work he’d put toward controlling his rage was being tested; he wanted nothing more than to assert himself as stronger and put the ignorant mortals in their places. But he didn’t.
If anything, his walk did him well. He had the chance to breathe some fresh air and take in the sunlight that always seemed to shine on Valtoria. It was a brief respite from the hustle and bustle of the kitchen and the cleaning of dormitories. He had a while to just enjoy his own company, and reflect on what was important… outside of revenge.
He wondered while he walked the dirt road to town from the fortress, why did his thoughts always circle so vindictively? He often found himself caught in a circle of grief and rage that spiraled out of his control whenever he had the time to think. He looked up from the road, then brushed his dreadlocks from his face with his given hand. The peppered white clouds appeared to pop from the bright blue sky, as if they floated on a layer of their own, far away from the endless tapestry that surrounded their world. Arkash came to a halt before the town, and he wondered. Did he like being angry? Did he like hurting people?
He didn’t like the alternative, that much was certain.
A deep breath filled his lungs, and his eyes fell to his bare, dirty feet while he exhaled. There, he lost his train of thought and focused on how strange human toes looked. What were they even good for? He couldn’t grip the grass when he ran with those stubby claws, and the balance they provided was so much less effective than a tail.
A roll of his eyes dispelled the mix of thoughts in his head, and he trudged into town. The dirt path became paved with stones as he approached the gate. Upon entering, the Helemire posted gave him the order to halt, and he produced his writ before he was allowed passage.
It was busy. He’d been able to hear the chatter of gathered people in conversation for some distance before he entered the town, but he hadn’t imagined it would be as packed as it was. It strained his sensitive ears, and Arkash grimaced uncomfortably as he made his way through the streets toward the market. Superior prowess saw him bob and weave through the crowd, sticking every footfall… Until he missed.
His next step was swept out from under him by the force of a kick that he hadn’t seen coming. It was so sudden, so public, and so loud. He'd been trying to ignore the sounds around him to a point that he hadn't noticed the adrenaline spike in the heartbeats that had closed in on him. Why would he have paid attention to his surroundings? He had nothing of value, what reason could anyone have for attacking him?
Perhaps they just liked being angry? Perhaps they liked hurting people?
Was he still a person?
The moment his back hit the floor, his own adrenaline kicked in. The startled gasps of some women in the crowd rang loud in his ears, along with the frenzied shouting of some power-tripping human. That same human came in, swinging his foot in a broad kick for Arkash's downed body.
Instinct urged him to evade, but he willed himself to take the strike. In place of allowing his reflexes to carry him out of harm's way, he braced for impact and tensed his arms and legs to protect his vitals. He was too slow to block the first kick, which met with his stomach.
He didn't feel the pain, but he wasn't senseless. He watched with one eye as two other men joined the maniac, then bared his teeth subconsciously as they brought down their fury on him. Strike after strike left the muddied impressions of their boots in his ragged burlap clothes, and were sure enough to leave marks of their own in his skin.
He focused on protecting himself; it wasn't the first time he'd had his shit kicked in on the road, it probably wasn't the last. All he knew was that he couldn't hurt them, or he'd be put to death... Just like the last time.
He caught another glimpse of them through the gap in his fingers as a boot to the face split his lip. Three men; One short and stocky, another tall and lanky, and the last looked to barely weigh more than the first. Pigs. He curled his nose, knowing weaklings like them got something out of attacking him drove him wild. He clung to the notion that in a split second, he could knock them all dead through the storm of their rage.

Posted: **Fri Nov 05, 2021 4:32 am**

♅ 15th of Ash, 4621 ♅
Company: Slave Boy| Thoughts: Fuck Off your pissants| Mood: Annoyed

♅ It was rather mundane. Watching the people as they carried out their daily tasks was something that I did to pass the time. I sat on a rooftop overlooking the market below. The scene of humans moving about reminded me of the days in the village, watching the children play and the people I came to know and protect come and go. As sweet and nostalgic as it was, it all led to the shattering reality that this kind of peace was just a dream. There are no happy endings, not in his world. The gods force their greatest creations to suffer, just so they will know that they can't survive without them.

Upon having my fill of the scenery I gathered myself and began to descend from my perch. Leaping from the rooftop down onto the awnings below then to the ground, I dusted myself off and began to walk the streets. To be honest, it was nothing special, it reminded me of the markets back home, if not just a different caliber of people. As a foreigner, I knew I would be regarded with suspicion, but it seemed no one was foolish enough to try me, for now at least.

That being said I knew I had to be careful, making sure not to draw too much attention to myself. After all, I came here to hunt Dranoch. When I arrived in Valtoria it was on the suspicion that there were creatures that resembled Dranoch seen around the coast of Valtoria, and so I came ahead of Haldir to investigate. It wouldn't surprise me given how far from civilization the reports were coming from. It was the perfect breeding ground for them, and with so much open space they could multiply unencumbered. But as long as I drew breath I refused to allow that to happen.

Walking the streets I was met with man smiles from women shopping or tending to their stalls, something I came to become accustomed to as It was my exotic looks that drew their attention. Even some enamored looks from men were thrown my way. It was flattering but even I couldn't force myself to lay with the peasantry. But I was polite and returned a smile to them all as I strolled by. As I continued my patrol, I started to feel a little better about the citizens of Valtoria.

From what I had experienced for myself, not all humans were nice people. Somewhere vile, far more so than many would want to admit to. But with every bad came the good, and these townsfolk were definitely showing me that. I would continue to garner quaint nods and waves, smiles and hellos, and return them in kind. The people only saw the Ebon armor and believed me to be among the military of the land. It was definitely a nice feeling, even if they weren't seeing me for who I was. But even the good bunch has some bad apples among them. I could tell from those that walked by me that something, someone seemed to be upsetting them.

Every face I happened to glance at had that same look, one of disdain and disgust, as if they had seen an abomination. Not skipping a beat I found myself going in the direction of whatever was causing the disturbance. I wasn't really sure where it could have been, but when I scanned the area of the faces around me I used that as a compass of sorts to navigate the area. As I came around a corner, my eyes flared in shock at what I saw. A trio seemed to have surrounded someone, and as I peered through the crowd Ie could see the lone man that was being harassed.

The poor kid seemed to be on the lower end of the totem pole even among the townsfolk given his clothing, but that didn't give anyone else the right to pick on him. It seemed from what I could gather that he was a slave, and they didn't like him cause he was a foreigner too. Scoffing at the insults they were hurling at him he waded through the crowd until he was right on the edge of it, and as the slave faced them down, I could see it.

The look on his face, the way his eyes scanned the three assailants, he was a trained fighter, but he wasn't going all out against them. That was what intrigued me the most, the killer intent in his eyes, and the fact that he wasn't using his full strength against them. So taking the initiative I moved around the crowd that had formed until I was facing the back of the slave, and when they were going to move in for another assault I stepped in.

With shrivenflame growing in my hand, I pointed it at the three. "If you know what's good for you, you'll go bout your business and leave my property alone. I don't take kindly to those damaging what belongs to me." I threatened, trying to be as convincing as possible with my Gentevarese. "Now if you know what's good for you, you'll fuck off you pissants." I was hoping they would see me as a threat and leave as I would rather not have to use my fist to make them leave, especially in front of all these people. ♅

"Common Speech"
"Silvain Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

Posted: **Sat Nov 06, 2021 11:23 am**

It wasn't much of a fight, to say the least. Arkash was on the floor, being kicked with such force that his lithe frame actually moved an inch or two across the ground with each subsequent strike. They weren't very strong; Arkash had been beaten worse by better. But that didn't mean he would be without his abrasions and scrapes. He doubted he'd break a bone, at least until he tasted his own darkened blood on his split lip.
He didn't know why, but the addition of a coppery taste on his tongue made any bad situation so much more severe. It was like a reminder that he wasn't immortal, that he could be injured, even seriously by these goons that he'd normally consider a joke. Hell, if he didn't somehow find a way to tire them out or disengage, they might even kill him.
Was that possible? Could he really be killed in some random encounter on some street, an urchin's death? He supposed that was how his story had started, it could someday be how it ended too. But he'd survived too long and through too much to wind up killed by some weaklings hiding under the protection of the law. No, if it really came down to it, he would release a blast of bloodfury and wipe out everyone in the vicinity. After that, he'd just have to kill every single survivor and witness individually... Or flee. Fleeing was an option, but then the secret would be out for Derek Egon. The game would be over.
He spied the three men through the gaps in his fingers; the slobs were so out of shape that they were starting to tire from beating him. Pathetic. Even as exhausted and as injured as he was, he was certain he could roll to his feet and beat them all to literal death with his bare, useless human hands. The worst part of the encounter was that those three pigs would never know just how inferior they were to him.
He'd weathered the storm of their rage, and all the adrenaline in his thickened blood kept the pain at bay. He was a little sore on his arms and legs, but knew the sensation would only worsen once his adrenal high came down. Everything in his mind and body willed him to move out of the way, to use his superior athletic ability to avoid their strikes, but to do so would give away just how skilled he was. He had to blend in, and because Raphael refused to alter his appearance to a point that he looked like a native, he had to blend into the role of the downtrodden slave.
Fortunately, Arkash was very familiar with that role.
Even if they were tiring out on him, he couldn't let them damage him too severely. Breaking a bone would be both hard to explain to his master when he returned to the fortress, and hard to explain when it healed over a couple of weeks as opposed to a month.
But there they were, screaming things in that language that he didn't understand between their breaths, utterly trampling his frame with their boots. He'd begun to wonder if his forearms would break before their stamina when the stranger stepped in; the unexpected element to Arkash's planning. The three men had stayed facing Arkash's front, desperately trying to break the defense around his head that was his arms, so to approach them head-on, the element had to approach from Arkash's curled back.
His external focus was still on his guard, but he felt the heartbeat in the man's chest, the vitality of what he'd otherwise consider being prey... If not for the spine-chilling glow that was shrivenflame, which grew from the presence. At once, the burning hatred and confidence in the rathor's eyes snapped to unspeakable fear. An ebonknight had found him. How? Did they find the remains of one of his meals? Were they just in the area and recognized the darkened hue of his blood? Did some sort of quirk that the mage possessed alert him to the presence of dranoch?
He'd been content to lay down and take the beating, knowing that baser mortals could do little to nothing all to permanently injure him. But an ebonknight? Such a mage could easily slay him.
As the three men backed off, Arkash pushed against the floor with his raw, beaten arms and kicked off the ground to throw himself away from both parties. He brought his legs overhead and threw them behind himself, away from both the ebonknight in a sort of ground-bound backflip, and landed crouched on one hand and both feet, his spare hand poised, ready to leech from his own lip.
He'd do it. Everything within him roared for survival against the unbridled fear the Ebonknight's presence brought. If it came to revealing his blood magic and culling the entire population of Valtoria by hand to survive, he was prepared to do it.
Unknown to him, the knight was actually on his side. The man had swept in to try and help him. Arkash hadn't anticipated such kindness or consideration; he fully expected the people of Valtoria to watch contentedly as his skull was crushed beneath native boots.
It wasn't at him that the shrivenflame pointed, but at the three men. Sharp eyes darted between both parties while he assessed the situation, and several indicators led him to believe that the ebonknight was unknowing of his disease. Arkash's furrowed brow softened a little while he caught his breath. His limbs still shook with adrenaline and his whole being was poised to fight, but he recognized an ally in the madness that was his morning errand.
If only the sigil-bearer knew what sort of monster it was that he was protecting...
The three men backed up further and further from the fire. The leader of the three held out his flabby arms with open palms to indicate that he was done. A mixture of his exhaustion, the realization that Arkash's guard was far too impressive for a mere slave, and the fiery threat were all enough to make the humans realize that they had been bested, and they cut their losses with a swift retreat down the street.
Arkash looked on as the ebonknight stood. His broken lips stayed curled in a sort of snarl while he gathered his senses, then he carefully lowered his poised hand to the dirt before he pushed with power to throw himself upright. He stood, then stepped back to break his momentum. His eyes stayed affixed on the ebonknight through his movements. "...I've never seen such magic," he lied, focusing his deep brown eyes on the terrible flame. "Thank you for your help, Milord. I cannot swear my life to you, for my life is not my own."
He felt so fancy with his articulation. Even if he was covered in dirt and forming bruises, he tried to maintain the Rien elegance he'd learned under his caretakers.
While his eyes moved to the Ebonknight's, whisperings and confusion broke out in the crowd behind him. Some claiming to know that magic, others claiming impossibility, some struck in awe. Before the commoners of Valtoria was what they believed to be an impossibly rare, extinct magic. Before Arkash was the seventh, maybe eighth practitioner of Sigilic pyromancy he'd met in his life, but was made to pretend by his own forced character that he didn't know better.
"You've wasted your ether, I'm afraid. I have nothing to repay you with."

Posted: **Tue Nov 09, 2021 1:39 am**

♅ 15th of Ash, 4621 ♅
Company: Slave Boy| Thoughts: Fuck Off your pissants| Mood: Annoyed

♅ It was no surprise they would falter in my presence. Watching them flee gave me some form of satisfaction if only a tiny bit. It was just another reason I found them disgusting. Humans always had a knack for acting all high and mighty until someone showed them otherwise. It was also the reason I held such disgust for them too. They were morally ugly beings, flawed and full of contradictions.

Extinguishing the shrivenflame in my hand, I finally noticed the look on the crowd that had formed. I forgot that my magic was not something particularly seen. It was a rumor, and fantasy, and treasured thing that many sought for themselves. No doubt word would spread about this and the upper echelons of Valtoria would be on my scent. Not to mention the fact that Haldir will never let me hear the end of it, as we were supposed to be keeping a low profile while here.

Turning I eyed the slave as he spoke, thanking me for my assistance. I scoffed when he apologized for not having anything to offer me, sorry for the fact that I wasted my ether. As if, It was simply a means to an end for all I cared. "I didn't do it to gain your life.......human." an obvious tone of disgust in my words as I regarded him in his entirety.

Scrawny and unimpressive to the eye was what I was looking at, yet I could see the semblance of muscle beneath his rags. It allowed me the inference that he was at least in good health, so much so to come out with the minor damage he seemed to have sustained. "I did it to see whether or not your ilk would stand against me and fight. But like all humans, they run." I spat at him as I walked up to where he stood. Inspecting him I could tell he only sustained minor injuries, things that could be slept off. It was odd now that I looked at him, how even slaves were at the mercy of peasantry.

"Come, let's get you whatever it is you came for so you can go back to your master before they come back with more pissants. I rather not inhale the smell of burning human flesh." I rushed, forcing the man to move along. Breaking through the crowd I could still hear the murmured whispers of the onlookers as they still seemed to be amazed by my display. I'm sure this was going to come back and bite me on the ass, and not in the good way either.

"Why did they attack you in the first place? Do they hate your master or something? How did you even end up a slave?" I was curious if only a little bit. I was certain whatever the response it would only make me pity the poor bastard. ♅

"Common Speech"
"Silvain Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

Posted: **Tue Nov 09, 2021 5:17 am**

He did his best to hide it, but the disguised rathor wanted nothing less than to spend more time in the Ebonknight's presence. The longer he waited in the hunter's shadow, the more time it gave for him to be recognized. Granted, the rending of his born flesh made him look even more mortal than his original flesh, but he was unsure if the Sigil gave the knight the power to identify him regardless of his looks. He couldn't be sure, and he certainly couldn't be more careful.
Despite what Arkash wanted, though, the knight had decided himself Arkash's protector. Though it was a kind gesture, it was not what the dranoch sought. He supposed it would help him get his chore over with, though. No doubt he'd probably be attacked again if he tried alone. So, the disguised rathor did his best to smile, despite the disgust in which the knight called him a human. The pull of his lip only strained the split that one of those thugs had left, however, and Arkash was made to wince.
"You're too kind, Ser," he spoke in praise, but only because they were in public. Something about the stranger felt off, he realized when he had the urge to speak in a more casual manner to the knight. No, not something vague or incomprehensible, it was glaringly obvious. While a Sil'Norai in Daravin wasn't all that uncommon, he thought it much too close a coincidence that a Sil'Norai with the black sigil was there in Daravin; both originated in Sil Elaine, a province bordering Daravin. The knight was a foreigner, just like him!
Arkash's eyes widened a little when he realized such was the case, but the knight had already closed some distance with him. Instead of fear, Arkash found himself overcome with some sort of brutish confidence. Was it the man's arrogance? How he thought it weak that all humans run away in the face of magic immolation? Something about the way the man held himself screamed 'Superior', in much the same way that the nobility he'd encountered did. He grinned with his good side once he'd consciously appraised the man.
A nod was all he offered the mage, who declared that they would get whatever he'd come for in each other's company. Arkash was intrigued, but he'd no doubt find terror if he saw that flame again.
Arkash listened to the beating hearts around him while they moved through the crowd into less-populated spaces. Arkash looked over his shoulder as he was led away, and for some reason, didn't feel as though he was in danger. Perhaps it was because he felt he held the upper hand in terms of knowledge, and if it really came down to a fight, he thought himself strong enough to obliterate just about any single target... Except maybe that one from so long ago, the one who rent houses in two with a single spell.
Arkash couldn't help but laugh at the man's confusion, especially when they were away from the crowd. The knight was so very obviously not from Daravin! "Cuz I'm a fackin' forina' like 'ew, tuff guy." he switched dialect on a dime, it seemed. "Only diff'rence is 'ew's a maej, 'ew won't get pist on or nuffink, jus' don' go startin' sheet wiv uva' commona's, innit?" Arkash grinned, as if he was flashing his fangs. He found knowing things that others didn't, to a degree that gave him an upper hand, a thrill. He held the power in their dynamic, despite how appearances told their story.
"Betta' plan, me't, how's 'bout a scrap? 'ew's rewa'd faw saevin' me, I'll give 'ew the tussle 'ew's looking faw?" Sorted. He could just knock out the mage and be on his way. "Only rule; jus' fists. No magic an' no kebabin' me neiva. Fair?"
With that, he took a sharp turn into an alley, and turned to motion the knight to follow with a wave of his hand. It was a short run, with the open sandy riverbank just a couple-dozen meters out. "Of course, that's unless you're afraid of losin' to a human?" He swapped dialects again, grinning as he did so. Truth be told, Arkash had some tension he needed to vent, too. Perhaps the ebonknight would suit his needs for a punching bag?
That being said, the elf was taller than him, more muscular too. Arkash had to be quick, and given the bruised state of his arms and legs, he was bound to have a hard time. Maybe he'd end up as the punching bag?

Posted: **Fri Nov 12, 2021 5:31 am**

♅ 15th of Ash, 4621 ♅
Company: Slave Boy| Thoughts: Fuck Off your pissants| Mood: Annoyed

♅ This slave seemed to be a lot smarter than he led me to believe. He switched between a prim and proper speaking manner to his foreign accent with ease, something he obviously practiced a lot. That was the first red flag, and I couldn't help but think there was more to him than what he was leading me to believe. For now, however, I would give him the benefit of the doubt, but something in my gut was telling me to be careful around him.

His explanation of his enslavement, as hard as it was to understand the manner in which he spoke, caused my brow to raise in shock and irritation. "Who are they to call anyone a foreigner when this isn't even their land. They stole it from my people, the elven people and we are the only ones who can truly call anyone foreigners." I spat, a look of utter disgust washing over my facial features as we continued on our way.

The true nerve of these humans, to call someone a foreigner on land that didn't even belong to them in the first place. I could feel my blood starting to warm the more I thought about it, but my focus was recaptured by the slave and the way he was carrying himself. He was far more confident now than when I first came across him, a sense of bravado and arrogance oozing from the way he walked now.

It was concerning, to say the least, and intentionally, a ball of shrivenflame formed in my hand as we continued. My mind was thinking he was a spy for the Dranoch, and if it turned out he was, I would surely remember this man for his strange behavior, even for a human. What he spoke next, given how difficult it was understanding him in this foreign way speaking, truly caused my brow to raise a bit as it wasn't something I was expecting from him.

"You aren't serious are you, I don't beat up the weak." I denied, watching as he began to change course, leading us down an alley and towards a riverbank not too far from where they were. He could tell by the grin that the human was serious. Part of me was on edge now, as we had left the confines of the city. The safety left me wanting to turn around and return to the city, tell the slave boy to fuck off but something in him itched.

If there was one thing I liked to do was fight.....well fucking too, but boy I loved a good fight. And this slave seemed confident to challenge me. I still wasn't sure about this, but if the worse came about, I could just simply burn my way out of it. With a sigh, I extinguish my flame. Shaking my head I began to remove most of my top armor, down to my pants and boots. I figured the less I had on the easier it would be to fight.

With a crack of my knuckles, I looked at him with a smirk on my face. "Just remember, you asked for it." I stated, getting in a fighting stance, keeping my body loose, but my stance firm. ♅

"Common Speech"
"Silvain Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

Posted: **Fri Nov 12, 2021 6:56 pm**

The plan was simple; knock the pretentious elf out with a few quick hits to the noggin, then leave him there to wake up alone. Hell, maybe Arkash could even loot some of his coin purse and buy himself something sweet from the bakery? That was a good idea, he thought. Already, he was spending the ebonknight's coin in his head.
It wasn't his original intent when he challenged the elf. No, Arkash had seen a man who fired himself up for a fight and was sorely let down. Being the good samaritan he was, who was he to deprive the ebonknight of a good thrashing? Only that was so far from the truth. Arkash had been trampled to a point that his bones were sore, and his bruised arms and legs ached with every motion. Through the whole ordeal, he didn't once strike another. It left him furious.
All the 'guised rathor wanted was a punching bag, something to let off some of the coursing adrenaline that shook his beaten arms and legs. The sting of his knuckles after striking something really hard was almost addictive, and the sensation was only stronger when it came attached to the pain of another.
Despite his urges, however, he knew he was playing with fire. He could feel the Shrivenflame's heat while they walked; it was almost unbearable from where he stood, and he couldn't imagine what it might feel like to actually touch it. He had to suppress his nerves, though. If the sigil-bearer became aware of his fear for the magic it might alert him to what he really was... If the darkened blood of his lip hadn't already.
Despite the high of fear and boisterous confidence, he did listen to the elf, who spoke something about Valtoria being his homeland. Arkash rose a brow at that but didn't inquire further. Were Sil'Norai the native settlers of Valtoria, but driven out by humans? He didn't know, nor did he really care. "Gee, yeah, tha's ruff, maet," was all he spoke on the matter between his all-but-frantic glances and quickened pace. He was full to the brim with violent intent and had to expel it quickly; the rest was background noise.
So he challenged the ebonknight in combat, challenged his honor, and challenged his bravado. Would he be able to take on a beaten slave in single combat? Arkash knew he couldn't.
The disguised Rathor walked out onto the sandy riverbank barefoot, stretched overhead, and pulled back to breathe air into his core muscles. His ragged burlap shirt lifted in the motion, and returned to its default drape as he lowered his curling fists. A glance over his shoulder was cast to the Knight... Who'd stripped when he wasn't looking. Arkash spun on the spot, and turned to face the elf with a glance of confusion and fear. it knocked the wind from his sails. What in Bel was the knight doing?
"...Why's you'a clo'es off?" Arkash asked with an obvious mark of concern to his furrowed brow. Well, whatever. Clothes or not, Arkash wouldn't hold back. If anything, he supposed it would be better if he wasn't striking armor at full force. it was then that Arkash realized the knight's tactic; it was to distract him. It did seem to work, too... At least in part. His eyes lingered on the larger male's musculature while his mind wandered. Often, he brought his eyes back to the knight's, then examined his stance when he assumed it.
The false rathor rose a brow. He hadn't seen a stance like that before, but maybe it was some Sil'Norai fighting style he hadn't heard of. Then again, Arkash wasn't the best on just his bare hands. Maybe he was looking at a Master, and just didn't know it? "Tha's 'ow elve's fight is i'?" he asked as he moved one foot back and turned slightly to the side to streamline his form. He made himself a smaller target and spread his weight between both feet for superior balance and transition of force. He knew he could throw his own meager weight into the strike if he followed the right form.
Before he began, however, he took his burlap shirt at the rim and lifted it overhead, pulling the ragged fabric off the length of his arms and tossing it to the sand. His lithe form was almost devoid of scars or marks, bar a few that seemed shallow in their prime, like blades that had only just caught him. A fresher-looking mark laid almost fully healed on his upper arm, some deep stab-like wound that seemed to gnarl the skin in the area. Despite the obvious lack of body fat on him, he did support some muscle on his skinny frame. It was clear that he wasn't nearly as strong as Ellasir, but he could certainly hold his own against average mortals.
The Rath's eyes continued to examine his opponent. Ellasir's height was a significant advantage, Arkash had to quickly close the gap and keep it closed if he wanted to stand a chance, else he'd hang around in a danger zone that Ellasir commanded without being able to reach the Elf in turn. "Ready?" he called across the bank, then lowered his posture before he kicked off the sandy bank and threw himself toward the knight in a shocking display of speed. His burlap pants slowed him, if only a little, but Arkash was much too experienced a runner to even notice the drag they provided.
Without pause or hesitation, Arkash dove low to tackle the larger male around the waist, and wove his legs between Ellasir's in an attempt to knock his legs out from under him. If he could get the giant on the floor, he'd be in a much more advantageous position, and prime to kick the giant's head.
He was heavy though, Arkash wasn't sure if he'd be able to wrestle the man off his feet. He would soon find out, it seemed.

Posted: **Tue Nov 30, 2021 2:19 pm**

♅ 15th of Ash, 4621 ♅
Company: Slave Boy| Thoughts: Fuck Off your pissants| Mood: Annoyed

♅ I could only smirk at his confusion. It was clear he had never had to fight in full armor before, and it wouldn't be fair to wear it in a simple fistfight. Regardless I waited, watched as he matched me in removing his ragged shirt, and got ready. I couldn't help but feel like this was a waste of time, as he could have simply declined the invitation to slug it out but it was too late now.

The silence between us as we sized each other up was palpable as I could feel his eyes analyzing every bit of me just as I was doing to him. His lithe form meant he had speed where he lacked strength, it also meant he was going to try and take me out quickly. The one thing I had on my side was the off chance his previous injuries were affecting him at all. If he was indeed feeling the pain of his beating from earlier, this would be a quick match.

I almost felt bad for him, but the slave did ask for this, so I didn't feel all that bad for what would transpire here. Seeing the lithe male coming in at me I braced my footing, as I was ready for him. What I wasn't expecting however was the speed at which he cleared the distance between us. It was like watching a living breathing bullet rush me and It startled me for a brief moment. When he collided with my stomach the initial impact took some wind from me, the guy had a hard fucking head, to say the least.

The collision between me and slave cause me to stumble, and instead of fighting the fall to the ground, I went with it. I knew how dangerous it was to be pinned on the ground so I decided to keep him off me by fling him. Using his own moment, I planted my foot on his stomach as I went down, and the moment my back hit the sand beneath us, launched him off of me. Rolling off to the side, I stood and braced for another encounter. ♅

"Common Speech"
"Silvain Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

Posted: **Sat Dec 04, 2021 10:48 pm**

They didn't slow him down, not even a little. Arkash was almost conditioned to the wear and tear on his limbs; the ache in his bones that followed a beating was almost comfortable to him. The forming bruises to his arms only hindered him in one respect, which the stronger-looking male seemed to make use of.
It was indeed his goal to take the elf to the floor, then simply choke him out, but the elf didn't intend to make it so easy. On collision, the taller man put his foot to Arkash's stomach, then broke his grapple with ease. Arkash's core tensed as he was booted off, sent flying like a springboard from his target as the man hit the floor.
His teeth clenched, and he ducked his head as his own back met the floor, but carried through the momentum with a pull of his form to roll back across the ground. He threw his legs overhead and rolled over the back of his head with his feet and hands poised to catch his weight in the sand. After sticking the landing on all fours, he looked with wild eyes at his opponent, then kicked off the ground in an all-out sprint.

The rush that was being thrown seemed to ignite something inside him. Like gasoline, he reacted in ways most explosive and volatile, difficult to maneuver or contain.
It was difficult to run on sand, but that didn't stop him from kicking up sprays of the stuff as he hurtled toward his opponent, and made a jerk to the right in an attempt to throw off the larger, heavier male. Showing his feint, he kicked off the ground and bolted to the left, oh-so agile. In his bolt, he tried to maneuver under Ellasir's arm, then drive his foot into the back of the elf's knee to put him on the floor; buckling his supports.
Arkash bared his teeth at the clutch of the strike, the narrowness of whatever strike he'd evaded to pull off such a maneuver.

Successful or not in buckling Ellasir's legs, Arkash would wait a moment for the man to recover or turn, then promptly slap the man's face with his fingers outstretched... In what was surely an underwhelming and confusing display.
Arkash himself seemed confused after the strike, but not for making it. He'd intended to strike the elf with his claws, to rend flesh from bone with those keratin points. What would have surely ended the fight in his true form was reduced to a laughable slap in his human form.

Embarrassed, he put his posture lower and spread his legs wide. "Thought 'ew liked fightin'?" He asked with a curl to his lips. "Are you not entertained?!"

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Posted: **Wed Dec 29, 2021 5:08 am**

♅ 15th of Ash, 4621 ♅
Company: Slave Boy| Thoughts: kicking his ass| Mood: Annoyed

♅ I had to give the scrawny guy some credit, I didn't expect him to last this long. He was definitely a tenacious little bastard but I was starting to feel as though he was accustomed to fighting, the question being if his opponents were just common rabble. That and the fact he was a fast little bugger kept me on my toes, watching as he came sprinting at me again.

It seemed he was fired up from that throw, as his movements changed, more sparatic in nature as he came darting at me, faking to my left side. Whipping around I managed to brace myself for what I thought was a going to be another tackle, but instead he surprised me by striking at the back of my knee, causing my to kneel into the sand. Then he slapped me and it took me by surprised.

As he taunted me I was still trying to wrap my head around what just happened, all that momentum just to slap me? I didn't understand the reasoning, was he trying to insult me? Was his goal to simply piss me off? Whatever It was he would soon find out it had worked. Standing up, my toes clenched into the sand as I cracked my knuckles and neck, a serious look on my face as now it was turn to go on the offensive.

There was no hesitation in my movements as I came at him at a full sprint, a flurry or coordinated jabs and kicks, ensuring to fling as much sand as I could off my feet with each one. If would run i was simply determined to stay on top on him, not giving him a moment to breathe or make his next move. ♅

"Common Speech"
"Silvain Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

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