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Post by Boo Ghostie on Feb 25, 2020 18:49:31 GMT -8
"If she so wishes to dive into the flames of battle. Then that is her choice. She shall learn as we have." Roland let out, cutting one last slice into a lead ball before placing it on the table. Wrapping a nearby cloth around his right hand to cover up his censor burns.
"Faith is purest when it is humble, Sister." Roland replied with high-spirited venom, a small smirk appearing across his face. Taking up his arming sword and shield, forgoing his armor for the simplicity of gambeson. If a Penitent was destined to die, what need of he of armor? He marched to the sparring ground, methodically clanking his sword against his shield in a playful display of sportsmanship. Before hopping over the wooden fence, waltzing his way to the other end.
"Come then," He clanged his shield one last time before setting up his form. Shield held aloft in front whilst his sword arm laid back, the tip of his blade poised to riposte. "Show me what passes for fury among the Apelion Order."
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Post by relentless on Feb 26, 2020 10:58:07 GMT -8
"Wrath and righteous deliverance is a broad stroke difference, Roland. Best hope you're not on either."
Harina warned with neutrality perceived in their facial structure, their mace raises above and around the shoulder, their shoulders and elbows unlocked, followed with their feet to be somewhat springy, like a dancer almost. Their left hand stuck out, arm half cocked as their palm is held in front of the man, where the womans fingers seemed to be folding into the palm in a manner that seemed all too structured and concise.
"Tell me, Roland, you keep Miss Toustain at your beck and call, perhaps you seek to squire her? Come, might as tell me what you see in her soul. Inner heroism? A kindred fury? What ever could it be..."
Harina crawled on, and afterwards, their lips began to move slightly, as if whispering to herself. The battle pilgrim would then prance to the right, maintaining solid footwork as to apply territorial pressure to Roland.
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Post by rosallora on Feb 26, 2020 11:11:43 GMT -8
She feels cold nervousness shoot through her at Harina's words, but Roland mentions her choice, and she relaxes slightly. She had just gone out to the woods, and was lucky to escape with her life and all limbs intact. Perhaps it would be wiser to remain a while. To train and to remember that a hero wasn't made in a day or a month, but in a lifetime.
Harina and Ser Roland moved a certain way around each other. They traded small barbs, there was a sort of humor that wasn't lost on her but that she couldn't imagine making herself. It was special. Perhaps it was because they were both soldiers of the Light, pious and unrelenting. She sits, watching, thankful that they weren't insisting that she join.
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Post by Boo Ghostie on Feb 26, 2020 15:48:03 GMT -8
"She has potential." Roland let out simply, "Would you rather tend a flame or allow it to die out?"
His footwork simply shifted for his shield to follow the direction of his opponent. His body always slanted to a side, remaining a smaller target. However he refused to allow her the privilege of taking ground. Roland's eyes taking note of her muttering lips, deciding to tap the tip of his sword against the top edge of his shield. An act intended to break whatever form of concentration she was mustering.
Roland soon began to march towards her, shield remained aloft while his pace was stalwart and methodical. Using his shield to mitigate her breathing room. However as he began to get into range his sword arm would noticeably raise upward. A scorpion poised to strike. A foolishly telegraphed attack to draw the eyes. Only for his shield to quickly jut forward, hoping to bash his opponent's face while focused on his blade.
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Post by relentless on Feb 26, 2020 16:58:54 GMT -8
/Harina/
As the knight aimed to close the distance, the vestal would not let the man seek the opportunity he desired. She'd prance back to the left, pivoting as to extend the distance as he closed in, with the hand movements becoming more, and more concise until a form of hand gesture was created, the womans iris flashing a momentary spark of ember, the hand raising up partially as the Judges brow furrowed.
"Cumque eum misisset! Alliges proditor!"
("Cast him down! Shackle the traitor!")
In what could only be described as religious brilliance, from the tips of Harinas fingers would threads of a hot, fiery visage begin to mould and form at an astonishing rate to form what could only be perceived as a burning hot sword that danced in the air in front of Roland. In what could be perceived as a wind up, the blade would curl back, and them come crashing down into Roland's shield as he pushed it forward, the heat searing into the shield to leave a red hot streak upon the shields front. All the while, the vestal, Harina, continued to dance as a wicker flame grew in their eyes, along with the grip upon their mace growing looser and more flexible as they aimed to keep more agile than the knight.
(25% DMG+, +6 ACC)
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Post by rosallora on Feb 26, 2020 17:03:00 GMT -8
She watches them, entranced by the way that they move. Metal against metal, will against will.
And then Harina summons a sword of flame, and she feels she's never seen anything so brilliant in her life. Such things were possible? Her mouth is left hanging open a bit, stunned at the display. She could feel the heat from here, the waves that the weapon threw off. How much concentration did it take, how much holy blessing, to make such a holy weapon?
Toustain leans forward on the bench seat, her hands holding onto it to keep her balanced.
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Post by Boo Ghostie on Feb 26, 2020 21:44:35 GMT -8
Her zealous words were met with silence and purpose. Roland's legs knelt down to brace his shield. Receiving the scorching blade as it began to sear the air around him. His shield now marked with the Holy Flame's wrath. He glared at the sister, now within the trance of battle. With gritted teeth, his bent knees were in the position for him to lunge towards his opponent. His shield held forward whilst his body huddled behind.
Roland's intention being to deny her any more room to call upon the light. Using the sudden momentum to surprise his opponent, hoping to catch her before she could side-step his advance so he may ram her. Or at least pressure her with his shield.
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Post by relentless on Feb 28, 2020 9:10:50 GMT -8
/Harina/
A snicker formed on the lip of Harina, baring their teeth in a mocking and almost taunting fashion toward the knight as he charged. The time to act, was now, and the wrath of Apelion would follow through as pupils dilated to tiny pips with two threads of the light training as the woman moved their footing. Eventually, such an expression would morph into a tensed fury, as the womans wrist would curl, arm whipping round as they take a step forward, utilising their momentum in their step along with weight. The glorious mace would be swung diagonally toward the shield, downward with impressive might, where once the strike was made, and if the might of their blow would deter the knight from pressing forward, the vestal would press forward with interlooping swings, interchanging in directions, whilst having enough time to react to blows that may have been cast her way.
"I'll cast you DOWN!"
Harina threatens as the blow is cast, and the dice is rolled, the motive behind her aggression and bravado was clear.
She would reign victorious.
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Post by Boo Ghostie on Mar 1, 2020 8:44:13 GMT -8
"You call upon the light for a spar? Pitiful."
Roland taunted at her previous strike which left a hot streak in his steel. He braced his shield to take on the blows. Left foot forward and knees bent, and right foot planted behind. A bulwark that would endure. He allowed her to let loose her flurry of interchanging swings, knowing that it requires less energy to press his body weight into his shield to deflect the incoming blows. The penitent knight was patient, waiting for a lapse in her assault for himself to strike. Wishing to strike whilst she tired out. His eyes staring her down with tranquil fury.
And as the right moment presented itself, he made his attack. Both shield and sword moving in unison. Stabbing at what he hoped was an opening. Whilst his shield guided his way, walling off the direction between him and her mace.
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Post by rosallora on Mar 2, 2020 20:24:30 GMT -8
It was nice. She had to admit it was nice, watching them. She was... worried, still, though. About this expedition, they were going on. If she was... well. Strong enough for it. They apparently wanted her there. Well, Sister Harina did, which was quite the surprise. And Ser Roland, well. He just wanted her to be better. But maybe she could prove herself. Maybe she could show him how useful and brave she really was, granted she was able to act as much in front of them.
Yes.
She'd be able to tell Grace. Say goodbye to Roard (Eliot?) before departing. She'd pack her things because the Light called, because others of the Light called. They wanted her. She couldn't resist.
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Post by relentless on Mar 7, 2020 5:09:57 GMT -8
/Harina/
The quick successions of her attacks, were all but apparent, the interweaving swings upon the shield, were heavy and leaden with rage. Even a shield bearer, cannot ignore the force that she was applying to every blow, with such concise motions as they weaved diagonally, comboing between one another. As the third strike connected with the frame of the shield, that would be where the stab would begin to take place.
However, with the battle pilgrim interweaving their swings, their arm was already poised to strike down from the opposite diagonal direction. The stab would come forward, and the nimbleness of the vestal, along with the repeating motions, would allow the fourth mace strike to redirect, to bat the sword stab out of the way of their person.
"The Light is but a tool for my own conquest!"
The womans footing would change, a swift sidestep, the soles of Harina sandals grinded against the straw patch sparring area, and the Vestal was to Rolands side, their swing reeling to come around, the fire was apparent in her eyes, and her motions were fierce, and lucid. If the strike were to connect without reaction now, it could spell the end for this fight, thanks to her previous dabbling in the lights ways, as to boost her own strength, and cunning.
((tl;dr harina was already concisely swinging diagonally in combo vibe, fourth swing would come around and deflect the stab with a swing. harina nimbly steps to the left side, their arm coming round to prepare for a fifth, and perhaps final strike. it could end in a draw, with either of them hitting each other, or otherwise if rolands feeling epic)
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Post by Boo Ghostie on Mar 7, 2020 10:38:31 GMT -8
His strike was deterred, however a new opportunity presented itself at that moment.
Harina's new position was in the direction of his shield arm. As she committed to her attack, Roland retracted his shield to his body as he ducked low. Forcing her upper body onto his shield as her strike swung overhead. While simultaneously pushing forward at her waist. Using the forward momentum of her attack and the sudden spring of his legs to vault her over his shield. Sweeping her off of her feet and onto the ground behind him. His sword now pointed down at the battle-priest.
"We are in service to the Holy Flame, the sword arm against heretics. We are its tools, not its master." Roland let out in a mocking tone while sheathing his sword, a simple jest. His hand now extending to the sister at his feet. "You have been humbled this day, Sister."
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Post by relentless on Mar 7, 2020 11:39:37 GMT -8
/Harina/
The momentum of battle was to be expected, and in the heat of the moment, it appeared the Battle Pilgrim had been bested by that of martial arts. They allowed the fall, the shield hitting them in the chest, air wheezing outward as they are tossed overhead, their back hitting the ground hard, with a slight 'oomphf' echoing from them. They simply lie there, eyes closed for a moment, before letting out a wry chuckle.
"Silence, Vagabond... My specialization is in the light made manifest, yours man made martial arts. It was a clear decider. At least my role holds greater merit..."
The vestal scoffed, refusing the hand. A sign of pity, one she would not accept, as she stood to their own two feet, turning around, they simple take the sword into their palm, lifting it up quietly with a tip of their finger, a slight drip of blood on the finger itself, before they grip the blade near its tip, where she allowed the light to momentarily scorn it with its heat, a flash of red in the metal could be seen growing as she held it.
"Wisdom is for the foolish. Displays of action, make more than words. Speak not of 'humbling', I am not of your cloth, and to endorse myself into this 'wisdom'... tch, weakness, a fools game."
They calmly retort, though its clear that the ember within their eye displayed their bitterness and hostility toward such pityness. Was she angry about the defeat? No. The act of mockery, when one has yet to prove themselves in a true setting, is but a pitiful display.
The vestal lets go of the blade, allowing the metal to cool in its reddened state. They adjust the sling of their mace, tightening it, and letting it hang as they switch their book. They'd begin to walk slowly as the book is opened, moving their attention to the other Vestal, and addressing them with a slow nod, before readjusting their gaze to the book.
"Yes yes. I'm sure you enjoyed the fight- Now, do you have anything else to say, Sister Toustain the me-... kind?"
Harina inquired, a brief flicker of a glance toward the Vestal signals for a reply, with Harina in themselves ignorant of the Knights presence. Pity was a fools weapon, a wooden club. A primitives tool.
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Post by rosallora on Mar 7, 2020 11:57:35 GMT -8
They are flashes of metal and fabric, reinforced and hardened by time and effort. She's in awe of so much of it - Harina's speed, Roland's power. And throughout, how they mock each other, how they goad. It was so different than training with Roland alone. Perhaps this was what equals looked like; that only told her how much she was below them. But this was to be expected. It had to be.
We are its tools, not its master. It rings true for her. She was a vestal, a vessel of light. It moved through her - she couldn't demand it nor control it. She could only ask that it appear. And now that it had once, there was the question of whether or not it would ever again. To say the Light was below you was to commit some foul heresy to her, but she'd never say that to the other vestal. And she wishes Harina had taken his hand - it was a brother's hand, a companion's hand - and accepted his honorable offer. She feels a slight burn of anger as the vestal ignored the Ser's words, as well. He was wise, and should be listened to. She knows that - didn't the other? They were both so capable, should they not know to listen to each other?
The vestal straightens her posture as Harina ventures over. Her mind fills in what she was going to say, and Toast wishes it lit fire in her instead of putting cold water on her spirits. The meek. Not the kind. The meek. Little lamb, or dove, little... docile, thing. Meek.
Toustain knows she won't find any pity in Ser Roland's eyes for the small jab. He'd given her more than enough in merely saying he'd train with her further. "I'll... I'd try to join you, yes. If you give me the day." She wishes that she didn't want to impress Harina so much. The feelings she felt for Ser Roland she understood more. He had given to her, and she wanted to give back. He was wise, and she wanted to learn from the wise. But Harina gave scorn, yelling, fear, and now some kind of mockery. And yet. She wanted her to think well of... Toustain, the meek. "I have some business to attend to, and I need to ensure that my wound isn't going to burst. And I'd like to re-read some of my training passages -" she glances to Roland with an encouraging expression "-but it would do well for me to learn in the field. And when perhaps you see me, Ser, you'll be able to better see what I lack. We can train with more targeting." That sounds rather reasonable to her. She stands.
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Post by relentless on Mar 7, 2020 13:44:07 GMT -8
/Harina/ "Splendid. Now..."
The vestal takes her hand, more of a quick, but gentle snatch of the hand, eventually turning soft as the woman kneads it in her palm, looking it over. They nod, smiling for but a moment. "Strength. I embody it as such, for we are the vessel in which the light may possess. You are strong, I see it, but in ways that I am not familiar with." Harina smoothes their fingers over the top of the womans hand, for a brief moment, until they apply a singular digit to the top of their palm, a slight sting would be applied to the Vestal, a partial singe of hairs being applied to the womans hand, though the light in truth, flowed through their body, to provide them with more energy. The battle pilgrim relinquishes their grip, returning to the book, with the attention swaying back to the scripture.
"Trust yourself, and only yourself, Sister. That is what separates the competent from the incompetent, and why the competent still live on, like Ser Roland the Pentient. I call you... kind, as it befits you better. Not one from the crusade, but from hospitality, and growth." They click the book shut with moderate force, the weight of the book could be felt as its closed, where they now stash it close to their chest, facing the woman. "Go with glory, Toustain the... Kind, the Truly Kind. I will find you when the time has come, to plunge into the depths below." Harina sheds a lukewarm smile toward the woman bowing their head, though they would arc their head up slightly more. "Lest you have more questions? More... discussion?"
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