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Philippos had only ever been in the right place at the right time a couple occasions in his life. One had been being in the right place of the battlefield to run into the Prince and then a few others dabbled in there. It was more often than not he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Tonight had been one of those nights.
The soldier had stripped down to his regular linen clothes to be free of the confines of the armor. Sure, it kept him safe, but what kind of dangers would be in tavern. He hadn’t even planned on staying there that long. He perched himself at table, perfectly happy allowing the lady serving drinks to bring him all that he wanted. Philippos’ look lingered on the curves of her body the fabric clung to and spent plenty of time imagining what was hidden. She didn’t seem to mind.
It had to have been the fourth, fifth, maybe even the sixth drink of the night where he had completely lost track of the time. Bursts of laughter erupted between moments of pseudo-intense storytelling. Philippos had accumulated thousands of stories over the eighteen years he had served in the Colchian armies. They ranged from tame to completely obscene. And as one could imagine, when the night drew later, the stories became raunchier and with even a few embellishments added on.
Not everyone is always pleased with the loud voice of Philippos, or the havoc that manages to corral around him. He had grown quite the crowd as another wave of laughs escaped at the end of a story. He slammed down an empty glass and stood up to see if he could spot the girl with the drink again. He needed more, more like wanted. Philippos edged his way through the people so he could come out into the open. That was where he was presented with a beautiful lady that definitely deserved a wink. ”Evening, m’lady.” The words spilled out thick in that charming tone that made it obvious he was going to perhaps hit on her.
”I think you should move on.” There was no time to move or change targets. A gentleman, dressed rather nicely - must have been a merchant, stepped up and place a large hand on Phil’s shoulder. He was just as tall as Phil, but that meant nothing. The soldier turned around and gave him a once over. The man had been there for a few hours. He had eavesdropped some of the stories, but since he was quite the grouch - he didn’t appreciate any. And he even more so didn’t think that the jokester should have been speaking with his sister. What she was doing in the bar if she didn’t want well, one thing? That was beyond Philippos’ comprehension. He had to deal with the brother anyhow.
”Whoa, whoa. I intend no harm. Is she already taken by you, sir?” That only made the man’s face redder. ”Of course not. She is my sister.” Philippos crooked grin only grew bigger. ”What did you bring your sister to the tavern for?” There was a laugh added to the last words of the sentence. And just then, Philippos’ cheek was met with a hard punch.
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Staff Team
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This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
Philippos had only ever been in the right place at the right time a couple occasions in his life. One had been being in the right place of the battlefield to run into the Prince and then a few others dabbled in there. It was more often than not he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Tonight had been one of those nights.
The soldier had stripped down to his regular linen clothes to be free of the confines of the armor. Sure, it kept him safe, but what kind of dangers would be in tavern. He hadn’t even planned on staying there that long. He perched himself at table, perfectly happy allowing the lady serving drinks to bring him all that he wanted. Philippos’ look lingered on the curves of her body the fabric clung to and spent plenty of time imagining what was hidden. She didn’t seem to mind.
It had to have been the fourth, fifth, maybe even the sixth drink of the night where he had completely lost track of the time. Bursts of laughter erupted between moments of pseudo-intense storytelling. Philippos had accumulated thousands of stories over the eighteen years he had served in the Colchian armies. They ranged from tame to completely obscene. And as one could imagine, when the night drew later, the stories became raunchier and with even a few embellishments added on.
Not everyone is always pleased with the loud voice of Philippos, or the havoc that manages to corral around him. He had grown quite the crowd as another wave of laughs escaped at the end of a story. He slammed down an empty glass and stood up to see if he could spot the girl with the drink again. He needed more, more like wanted. Philippos edged his way through the people so he could come out into the open. That was where he was presented with a beautiful lady that definitely deserved a wink. ”Evening, m’lady.” The words spilled out thick in that charming tone that made it obvious he was going to perhaps hit on her.
”I think you should move on.” There was no time to move or change targets. A gentleman, dressed rather nicely - must have been a merchant, stepped up and place a large hand on Phil’s shoulder. He was just as tall as Phil, but that meant nothing. The soldier turned around and gave him a once over. The man had been there for a few hours. He had eavesdropped some of the stories, but since he was quite the grouch - he didn’t appreciate any. And he even more so didn’t think that the jokester should have been speaking with his sister. What she was doing in the bar if she didn’t want well, one thing? That was beyond Philippos’ comprehension. He had to deal with the brother anyhow.
”Whoa, whoa. I intend no harm. Is she already taken by you, sir?” That only made the man’s face redder. ”Of course not. She is my sister.” Philippos crooked grin only grew bigger. ”What did you bring your sister to the tavern for?” There was a laugh added to the last words of the sentence. And just then, Philippos’ cheek was met with a hard punch.
Philippos had only ever been in the right place at the right time a couple occasions in his life. One had been being in the right place of the battlefield to run into the Prince and then a few others dabbled in there. It was more often than not he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Tonight had been one of those nights.
The soldier had stripped down to his regular linen clothes to be free of the confines of the armor. Sure, it kept him safe, but what kind of dangers would be in tavern. He hadn’t even planned on staying there that long. He perched himself at table, perfectly happy allowing the lady serving drinks to bring him all that he wanted. Philippos’ look lingered on the curves of her body the fabric clung to and spent plenty of time imagining what was hidden. She didn’t seem to mind.
It had to have been the fourth, fifth, maybe even the sixth drink of the night where he had completely lost track of the time. Bursts of laughter erupted between moments of pseudo-intense storytelling. Philippos had accumulated thousands of stories over the eighteen years he had served in the Colchian armies. They ranged from tame to completely obscene. And as one could imagine, when the night drew later, the stories became raunchier and with even a few embellishments added on.
Not everyone is always pleased with the loud voice of Philippos, or the havoc that manages to corral around him. He had grown quite the crowd as another wave of laughs escaped at the end of a story. He slammed down an empty glass and stood up to see if he could spot the girl with the drink again. He needed more, more like wanted. Philippos edged his way through the people so he could come out into the open. That was where he was presented with a beautiful lady that definitely deserved a wink. ”Evening, m’lady.” The words spilled out thick in that charming tone that made it obvious he was going to perhaps hit on her.
”I think you should move on.” There was no time to move or change targets. A gentleman, dressed rather nicely - must have been a merchant, stepped up and place a large hand on Phil’s shoulder. He was just as tall as Phil, but that meant nothing. The soldier turned around and gave him a once over. The man had been there for a few hours. He had eavesdropped some of the stories, but since he was quite the grouch - he didn’t appreciate any. And he even more so didn’t think that the jokester should have been speaking with his sister. What she was doing in the bar if she didn’t want well, one thing? That was beyond Philippos’ comprehension. He had to deal with the brother anyhow.
”Whoa, whoa. I intend no harm. Is she already taken by you, sir?” That only made the man’s face redder. ”Of course not. She is my sister.” Philippos crooked grin only grew bigger. ”What did you bring your sister to the tavern for?” There was a laugh added to the last words of the sentence. And just then, Philippos’ cheek was met with a hard punch.
Even out of the battlefield, Nike of Acaris, Commander to the Red Knights and personal bodyguard to the crown prince of Colchis, was rarely seen out of armor. Even if not in the full iron and chrome armor that the men of infantry and military would wear, at the very least the slender Commander of the army would be in her leather vest, hair tied back, eyes always watchful. Having lived a life which required her to always watch her back, the woman found it difficult to not be careful at any given time.
Given the circumstances that surrounded her existence within the Red Knights however, it was rare that the Commander would join her comrades and brothers to a tavern. She preferred to keep to herself - the lesser people she mingled with, the easier it would be to retain her secret, really. Besides, it wasn't everyone that was happy with the position she had gained. Skill or no skill, many saw her as a weak link.With her small size, it was easy for Nike to be underestimated and in the process, ridiculed that she had gained her rank through shoe licking and a honeyed mouth.
That is, until she soundly thrashed whoever it was who said so.
Still, that meant that, like it or not, she would have to socialize once in awhile. To recluse herself completely would mean to arouse even more suspicion. So it was on one of those nights, the night before the Red Knights were due to take off on another military campaign, that the short-haired Commander found herself nursing a pint in a large congregation of military males all having their last hurrah before another long, arduous stretch of time on the field.
The laughter and energy was raucuous in the tavern - as was expected. Nike had come to enjoy the camraderieship between her comrades and friends, even if she still kept to herself. Smiles came easier now, as did her occasional sarcastic remark to her friends. Granted, she still felt most comfortable around Vangelis... but she was relenting.
Always one to ensure her wits were kept (she had too much to risk, really), unlike the rest of them, Nike was only on her second drink, as Philippos jumped on what was likely his tenth or twelfth story by that time of the night. The fellow commander was one Nike would call a friend, but even she scoffed at his stories, sometimes wondering just how far truth she could call it, or if they were heavily embellished.
Taking another swig out of the deep mug, it was when the loud laughter died down just as a loud crack echoed across the suddenly silent tavern, did the alert commander look up. Her sharp, honeyed gaze caught what was her friend flying to the ground, and it took little for Nike to take stock of the situation.
With a few groans from the remaining men of the Red Knights, Nike abandoned her drink and all but jumped up. Her legs carried her quick, reaching the side of Philippos in a couple of long strides, just in time for her to catch the larger man's fists as he prepared to swing down. The woman grunted, but held her ground by a widening of her stance, speaking through gritted teeth, loud enough so she could be heard above the deafening cheers of drunken men eager for a tavern brawl.
"Forgive my friend, sir. He... does not have his senses about him." Her shoulders groaned, but held strong even despite the other's strength. With the heel of her boot, she kicked Philippos, hissing at him. "I'm sure he'll apologize, won't you Pos?" It was obvious in her tone, Nike was giving her friend no choice, and hoped he wasn't so deep in his cups as to not recognize what she was obviously hinting at him.
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May 18, 2019 10:55:44 GMT
Posted In Nike, Save Me on May 18, 2019 10:55:44 GMT
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Even out of the battlefield, Nike of Acaris, Commander to the Red Knights and personal bodyguard to the crown prince of Colchis, was rarely seen out of armor. Even if not in the full iron and chrome armor that the men of infantry and military would wear, at the very least the slender Commander of the army would be in her leather vest, hair tied back, eyes always watchful. Having lived a life which required her to always watch her back, the woman found it difficult to not be careful at any given time.
Given the circumstances that surrounded her existence within the Red Knights however, it was rare that the Commander would join her comrades and brothers to a tavern. She preferred to keep to herself - the lesser people she mingled with, the easier it would be to retain her secret, really. Besides, it wasn't everyone that was happy with the position she had gained. Skill or no skill, many saw her as a weak link.With her small size, it was easy for Nike to be underestimated and in the process, ridiculed that she had gained her rank through shoe licking and a honeyed mouth.
That is, until she soundly thrashed whoever it was who said so.
Still, that meant that, like it or not, she would have to socialize once in awhile. To recluse herself completely would mean to arouse even more suspicion. So it was on one of those nights, the night before the Red Knights were due to take off on another military campaign, that the short-haired Commander found herself nursing a pint in a large congregation of military males all having their last hurrah before another long, arduous stretch of time on the field.
The laughter and energy was raucuous in the tavern - as was expected. Nike had come to enjoy the camraderieship between her comrades and friends, even if she still kept to herself. Smiles came easier now, as did her occasional sarcastic remark to her friends. Granted, she still felt most comfortable around Vangelis... but she was relenting.
Always one to ensure her wits were kept (she had too much to risk, really), unlike the rest of them, Nike was only on her second drink, as Philippos jumped on what was likely his tenth or twelfth story by that time of the night. The fellow commander was one Nike would call a friend, but even she scoffed at his stories, sometimes wondering just how far truth she could call it, or if they were heavily embellished.
Taking another swig out of the deep mug, it was when the loud laughter died down just as a loud crack echoed across the suddenly silent tavern, did the alert commander look up. Her sharp, honeyed gaze caught what was her friend flying to the ground, and it took little for Nike to take stock of the situation.
With a few groans from the remaining men of the Red Knights, Nike abandoned her drink and all but jumped up. Her legs carried her quick, reaching the side of Philippos in a couple of long strides, just in time for her to catch the larger man's fists as he prepared to swing down. The woman grunted, but held her ground by a widening of her stance, speaking through gritted teeth, loud enough so she could be heard above the deafening cheers of drunken men eager for a tavern brawl.
"Forgive my friend, sir. He... does not have his senses about him." Her shoulders groaned, but held strong even despite the other's strength. With the heel of her boot, she kicked Philippos, hissing at him. "I'm sure he'll apologize, won't you Pos?" It was obvious in her tone, Nike was giving her friend no choice, and hoped he wasn't so deep in his cups as to not recognize what she was obviously hinting at him.
Even out of the battlefield, Nike of Acaris, Commander to the Red Knights and personal bodyguard to the crown prince of Colchis, was rarely seen out of armor. Even if not in the full iron and chrome armor that the men of infantry and military would wear, at the very least the slender Commander of the army would be in her leather vest, hair tied back, eyes always watchful. Having lived a life which required her to always watch her back, the woman found it difficult to not be careful at any given time.
Given the circumstances that surrounded her existence within the Red Knights however, it was rare that the Commander would join her comrades and brothers to a tavern. She preferred to keep to herself - the lesser people she mingled with, the easier it would be to retain her secret, really. Besides, it wasn't everyone that was happy with the position she had gained. Skill or no skill, many saw her as a weak link.With her small size, it was easy for Nike to be underestimated and in the process, ridiculed that she had gained her rank through shoe licking and a honeyed mouth.
That is, until she soundly thrashed whoever it was who said so.
Still, that meant that, like it or not, she would have to socialize once in awhile. To recluse herself completely would mean to arouse even more suspicion. So it was on one of those nights, the night before the Red Knights were due to take off on another military campaign, that the short-haired Commander found herself nursing a pint in a large congregation of military males all having their last hurrah before another long, arduous stretch of time on the field.
The laughter and energy was raucuous in the tavern - as was expected. Nike had come to enjoy the camraderieship between her comrades and friends, even if she still kept to herself. Smiles came easier now, as did her occasional sarcastic remark to her friends. Granted, she still felt most comfortable around Vangelis... but she was relenting.
Always one to ensure her wits were kept (she had too much to risk, really), unlike the rest of them, Nike was only on her second drink, as Philippos jumped on what was likely his tenth or twelfth story by that time of the night. The fellow commander was one Nike would call a friend, but even she scoffed at his stories, sometimes wondering just how far truth she could call it, or if they were heavily embellished.
Taking another swig out of the deep mug, it was when the loud laughter died down just as a loud crack echoed across the suddenly silent tavern, did the alert commander look up. Her sharp, honeyed gaze caught what was her friend flying to the ground, and it took little for Nike to take stock of the situation.
With a few groans from the remaining men of the Red Knights, Nike abandoned her drink and all but jumped up. Her legs carried her quick, reaching the side of Philippos in a couple of long strides, just in time for her to catch the larger man's fists as he prepared to swing down. The woman grunted, but held her ground by a widening of her stance, speaking through gritted teeth, loud enough so she could be heard above the deafening cheers of drunken men eager for a tavern brawl.
"Forgive my friend, sir. He... does not have his senses about him." Her shoulders groaned, but held strong even despite the other's strength. With the heel of her boot, she kicked Philippos, hissing at him. "I'm sure he'll apologize, won't you Pos?" It was obvious in her tone, Nike was giving her friend no choice, and hoped he wasn't so deep in his cups as to not recognize what she was obviously hinting at him.
Philippos hit the ground with a thud and a moan to follow. Even with the amount of alcohol he had consumed, it didn't dull the pain from hitting the floor or the sting that was now tingling his cheek. "I think you broke my jaw!" He exclaimed rather dramatically. Philippos had lived his life preferring to be liked by others. It was only when he was stupid and someone misinterpreted his words that he ended up in positions like this one. Though, it was even a stretch in this situation to find any way it was a misunderstanding. Phil had insulted the man.
"I have lots of SENSES!" Philippos gruffed out the words with enthusiasm as he pressed his palms on the dirty floor. He lumbered up to standing with hands brushing and patting away the dirt. There wasn't even the effort mustered for a glare at the man who had actually punched him. His attention on Nike as she was attempting to save him. Which he needed, but that was beside the point. And a point that Philippos clearly didn't see at the moment.
"Why should I apologize?!" His brows shot up like large fireworks at just the idea of having to say he was sorry. "I am right! The only women in here are whores." He gestured to one that was sitting on a man's lap. Ladies of standing would not be caught dead in an establishment like this. It was far too terrible. Course, everyone had their excuses. The large man growled as Philippos had further placed his foot into his mouth and only made the problems worse. His strength pressed against Nike's in retaliation.
"We have had a long journey and this was a place to drink and eat! Call her a whore one more time... and I'll..." His words were spat out quickly and with droplets spewing forth. The man was mad. Balled up fists clenched even harder as he warned what he would do if the man didn't follow the instructions of his comrade.
"It was a compliment. She is very pretty." He offered a wink towards the sister and that suave smile. Philippos wasn't about to give up on this - he was right. The man was wrong. And he wasn't just going to give in like that, even if Nike was trying. Instead, Phil ended up crossing his arms in a sort of 'try it' stance. "Honestly, any lady would be lucky to have Philippos of Elimea, Commander of the Red Knights." One of them. One of the ones that took them on to the battlefield, not as important as Nike - but still important. Philippos cocked his chin upward, the mark already turning red from the previous hit.
This only made the situation worse. The brute took aim and attempted to push through Nike to grabbing at Philippos with all of his might.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
Philippos hit the ground with a thud and a moan to follow. Even with the amount of alcohol he had consumed, it didn't dull the pain from hitting the floor or the sting that was now tingling his cheek. "I think you broke my jaw!" He exclaimed rather dramatically. Philippos had lived his life preferring to be liked by others. It was only when he was stupid and someone misinterpreted his words that he ended up in positions like this one. Though, it was even a stretch in this situation to find any way it was a misunderstanding. Phil had insulted the man.
"I have lots of SENSES!" Philippos gruffed out the words with enthusiasm as he pressed his palms on the dirty floor. He lumbered up to standing with hands brushing and patting away the dirt. There wasn't even the effort mustered for a glare at the man who had actually punched him. His attention on Nike as she was attempting to save him. Which he needed, but that was beside the point. And a point that Philippos clearly didn't see at the moment.
"Why should I apologize?!" His brows shot up like large fireworks at just the idea of having to say he was sorry. "I am right! The only women in here are whores." He gestured to one that was sitting on a man's lap. Ladies of standing would not be caught dead in an establishment like this. It was far too terrible. Course, everyone had their excuses. The large man growled as Philippos had further placed his foot into his mouth and only made the problems worse. His strength pressed against Nike's in retaliation.
"We have had a long journey and this was a place to drink and eat! Call her a whore one more time... and I'll..." His words were spat out quickly and with droplets spewing forth. The man was mad. Balled up fists clenched even harder as he warned what he would do if the man didn't follow the instructions of his comrade.
"It was a compliment. She is very pretty." He offered a wink towards the sister and that suave smile. Philippos wasn't about to give up on this - he was right. The man was wrong. And he wasn't just going to give in like that, even if Nike was trying. Instead, Phil ended up crossing his arms in a sort of 'try it' stance. "Honestly, any lady would be lucky to have Philippos of Elimea, Commander of the Red Knights." One of them. One of the ones that took them on to the battlefield, not as important as Nike - but still important. Philippos cocked his chin upward, the mark already turning red from the previous hit.
This only made the situation worse. The brute took aim and attempted to push through Nike to grabbing at Philippos with all of his might.
Philippos hit the ground with a thud and a moan to follow. Even with the amount of alcohol he had consumed, it didn't dull the pain from hitting the floor or the sting that was now tingling his cheek. "I think you broke my jaw!" He exclaimed rather dramatically. Philippos had lived his life preferring to be liked by others. It was only when he was stupid and someone misinterpreted his words that he ended up in positions like this one. Though, it was even a stretch in this situation to find any way it was a misunderstanding. Phil had insulted the man.
"I have lots of SENSES!" Philippos gruffed out the words with enthusiasm as he pressed his palms on the dirty floor. He lumbered up to standing with hands brushing and patting away the dirt. There wasn't even the effort mustered for a glare at the man who had actually punched him. His attention on Nike as she was attempting to save him. Which he needed, but that was beside the point. And a point that Philippos clearly didn't see at the moment.
"Why should I apologize?!" His brows shot up like large fireworks at just the idea of having to say he was sorry. "I am right! The only women in here are whores." He gestured to one that was sitting on a man's lap. Ladies of standing would not be caught dead in an establishment like this. It was far too terrible. Course, everyone had their excuses. The large man growled as Philippos had further placed his foot into his mouth and only made the problems worse. His strength pressed against Nike's in retaliation.
"We have had a long journey and this was a place to drink and eat! Call her a whore one more time... and I'll..." His words were spat out quickly and with droplets spewing forth. The man was mad. Balled up fists clenched even harder as he warned what he would do if the man didn't follow the instructions of his comrade.
"It was a compliment. She is very pretty." He offered a wink towards the sister and that suave smile. Philippos wasn't about to give up on this - he was right. The man was wrong. And he wasn't just going to give in like that, even if Nike was trying. Instead, Phil ended up crossing his arms in a sort of 'try it' stance. "Honestly, any lady would be lucky to have Philippos of Elimea, Commander of the Red Knights." One of them. One of the ones that took them on to the battlefield, not as important as Nike - but still important. Philippos cocked his chin upward, the mark already turning red from the previous hit.
This only made the situation worse. The brute took aim and attempted to push through Nike to grabbing at Philippos with all of his might.
"Your jaw is fine if you can talk, Pos."
Nike's comment was dry as she shot it at her friend, but even as she spoke, her eyes never met the enemy her comrade seemed to have managed to make. The hulking guy seemed to be unable to decide if it was a joke or an actual threat, considering Nike's stature was likely half the size of his. She was small - but Nike often used it to her advantage, when people underestimated her just cause she seemed like a guy who stopped growing prematurely.
"You're not helping your case, you fool." Nike hissed, when her friend gruffed out his words and lumbered up. The woman wanted to roll her eyes and drag Philippos away by his neck, but she knew she couldn't manage it. Military training or not, Philippos and her had often trained together, which meant that he had almost as much training as her. Nike put in double the effort in the mornings when everyone was asleep, or when Vangelis asked for extra sparring sessions - but that meant the woman only managed to barely catch up to the rest of the men when it came to muscular bulk. Which meant she was neck and neck.
Which meant her brain had to work faster then his brawn now.
Whores? Man, he was really asking for it. Nike's eyes flashed, knowing for certain now that her friend was well and throughly smashed. Letting him remain longer in the tavern would spell death - or at least bad injuries - for everyone involved. "Philippos!" Nike hissed, scowling at her friend. One did not call a random lady a whore - even if one knew for sure said lady was a whore. As a woman, even she knew it wasn't done, and she couldn't imagine what exactly was going through Philippos's head now to be spouting words as he was. Compliment or not as he meant it, it definitely came out all wrong to the man in question, especially when it was his sister Philippos had just called a whore... and that wink definitely was not helping matters.
Pushed slightly to the side as he swaggered his way to the front, Nike's eyes held a sort of mild fear, watching her friend more or less engage a huge man in a fight, or at the very least do his level best in baiting the man. She only managed to just step in between him and their assailant, who was obviously not at all mollified by his words of so-called'praise' - not that Nike blamed him.
Her words muffled as she engaged her shoulders and arms and attempted to push back- and not succeeding of course. She had nothing on the bulk of the man. Unfair is as unfair was, and she had no chance purely due to gender differences.
So Nike did the next best thing she could think of - with the deft quickness she was so well known for, Nike's leg shot out and hooked around the brute who was aiming for Philippos, dragging it quickly before he realized. Losing his balance, it was easy then for Nike to just grunt as she pushed harder, toppling him backwards with a loud crash, and an immediate silence falling over the tavern.
Heaving, Nike didn't lose time in checking her surroundings. Instead, the woman quickly turned and grabbed her friend by his arm, yanking at him to move. "Lets move it Pos, unless you want to be a practice dummy!"
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May 18, 2019 10:56:42 GMT
Posted In Nike, Save Me on May 18, 2019 10:56:42 GMT
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"Your jaw is fine if you can talk, Pos."
Nike's comment was dry as she shot it at her friend, but even as she spoke, her eyes never met the enemy her comrade seemed to have managed to make. The hulking guy seemed to be unable to decide if it was a joke or an actual threat, considering Nike's stature was likely half the size of his. She was small - but Nike often used it to her advantage, when people underestimated her just cause she seemed like a guy who stopped growing prematurely.
"You're not helping your case, you fool." Nike hissed, when her friend gruffed out his words and lumbered up. The woman wanted to roll her eyes and drag Philippos away by his neck, but she knew she couldn't manage it. Military training or not, Philippos and her had often trained together, which meant that he had almost as much training as her. Nike put in double the effort in the mornings when everyone was asleep, or when Vangelis asked for extra sparring sessions - but that meant the woman only managed to barely catch up to the rest of the men when it came to muscular bulk. Which meant she was neck and neck.
Which meant her brain had to work faster then his brawn now.
Whores? Man, he was really asking for it. Nike's eyes flashed, knowing for certain now that her friend was well and throughly smashed. Letting him remain longer in the tavern would spell death - or at least bad injuries - for everyone involved. "Philippos!" Nike hissed, scowling at her friend. One did not call a random lady a whore - even if one knew for sure said lady was a whore. As a woman, even she knew it wasn't done, and she couldn't imagine what exactly was going through Philippos's head now to be spouting words as he was. Compliment or not as he meant it, it definitely came out all wrong to the man in question, especially when it was his sister Philippos had just called a whore... and that wink definitely was not helping matters.
Pushed slightly to the side as he swaggered his way to the front, Nike's eyes held a sort of mild fear, watching her friend more or less engage a huge man in a fight, or at the very least do his level best in baiting the man. She only managed to just step in between him and their assailant, who was obviously not at all mollified by his words of so-called'praise' - not that Nike blamed him.
Her words muffled as she engaged her shoulders and arms and attempted to push back- and not succeeding of course. She had nothing on the bulk of the man. Unfair is as unfair was, and she had no chance purely due to gender differences.
So Nike did the next best thing she could think of - with the deft quickness she was so well known for, Nike's leg shot out and hooked around the brute who was aiming for Philippos, dragging it quickly before he realized. Losing his balance, it was easy then for Nike to just grunt as she pushed harder, toppling him backwards with a loud crash, and an immediate silence falling over the tavern.
Heaving, Nike didn't lose time in checking her surroundings. Instead, the woman quickly turned and grabbed her friend by his arm, yanking at him to move. "Lets move it Pos, unless you want to be a practice dummy!"
"Your jaw is fine if you can talk, Pos."
Nike's comment was dry as she shot it at her friend, but even as she spoke, her eyes never met the enemy her comrade seemed to have managed to make. The hulking guy seemed to be unable to decide if it was a joke or an actual threat, considering Nike's stature was likely half the size of his. She was small - but Nike often used it to her advantage, when people underestimated her just cause she seemed like a guy who stopped growing prematurely.
"You're not helping your case, you fool." Nike hissed, when her friend gruffed out his words and lumbered up. The woman wanted to roll her eyes and drag Philippos away by his neck, but she knew she couldn't manage it. Military training or not, Philippos and her had often trained together, which meant that he had almost as much training as her. Nike put in double the effort in the mornings when everyone was asleep, or when Vangelis asked for extra sparring sessions - but that meant the woman only managed to barely catch up to the rest of the men when it came to muscular bulk. Which meant she was neck and neck.
Which meant her brain had to work faster then his brawn now.
Whores? Man, he was really asking for it. Nike's eyes flashed, knowing for certain now that her friend was well and throughly smashed. Letting him remain longer in the tavern would spell death - or at least bad injuries - for everyone involved. "Philippos!" Nike hissed, scowling at her friend. One did not call a random lady a whore - even if one knew for sure said lady was a whore. As a woman, even she knew it wasn't done, and she couldn't imagine what exactly was going through Philippos's head now to be spouting words as he was. Compliment or not as he meant it, it definitely came out all wrong to the man in question, especially when it was his sister Philippos had just called a whore... and that wink definitely was not helping matters.
Pushed slightly to the side as he swaggered his way to the front, Nike's eyes held a sort of mild fear, watching her friend more or less engage a huge man in a fight, or at the very least do his level best in baiting the man. She only managed to just step in between him and their assailant, who was obviously not at all mollified by his words of so-called'praise' - not that Nike blamed him.
Her words muffled as she engaged her shoulders and arms and attempted to push back- and not succeeding of course. She had nothing on the bulk of the man. Unfair is as unfair was, and she had no chance purely due to gender differences.
So Nike did the next best thing she could think of - with the deft quickness she was so well known for, Nike's leg shot out and hooked around the brute who was aiming for Philippos, dragging it quickly before he realized. Losing his balance, it was easy then for Nike to just grunt as she pushed harder, toppling him backwards with a loud crash, and an immediate silence falling over the tavern.
Heaving, Nike didn't lose time in checking her surroundings. Instead, the woman quickly turned and grabbed her friend by his arm, yanking at him to move. "Lets move it Pos, unless you want to be a practice dummy!"
Huh, his hand immediately pressed against his jawline with a bit of rub in reaction to what she had said. An overexaggerated wince and pout were all he had for her. It was all a show. Philippos was known for it and right now he was taking full advantage, even if he was in harm's way. Big harm. This man was so angry and everything that Philippos was saying and doing was only making the situation that much worse. It was the spice of life. Philippos was never one to be locked into the same mundane world day after day. This whole ordeal was what life was made of.
"Stop being so serious." He waved his drunken hand around like he was some flittering bird in the midst of a spring bath. Philippos was a fool, he looked it, sounded it, the whole package. And he didn't care. He just continued on in this flippant way. Nike would handle it.
The sudden silence took Pos by surprise. A hand pushed into his chest as he looked around as though he had no idea what had happened. He had just watched the man topple to the floor and somehow still looked bewildered. Circling his fingers around the wrist of Nike and raising it up into the air. "Hurrah for Commander Nike of Acarissss." His ess trailing long as any drunk would have done. Instead, there was a change in attack as Nike grabbed Philippos instead. It wasn't like it was hard to break his grasp and this made more sense... he was drawing more attention.
Soon, the brute on the floor was pushed up again. Philippos just grinned as he had that look of pleading in his eyes. "I think he was more, Nik." It was almost as though he wanted to see his comrade fight. It was impressive, it was skillful. And it was saving his own ass from being exactly what she had said. His own hands were balled up in fists as he threatened to throw his own punch toward the man. It was going to take the both of them, wasn't it? Philippos was drunker than he had thought.
"Battle of 74. Den I promwise I will go." He spoke of a time, a few years back when they had had to work together. At least he was smart enough not to give away the moves as he punched hard and strong into the gut of the larger man. Instantly, he keeled forward, leaning near Nike and open for exactly what was needed to put him unconscious.
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Huh, his hand immediately pressed against his jawline with a bit of rub in reaction to what she had said. An overexaggerated wince and pout were all he had for her. It was all a show. Philippos was known for it and right now he was taking full advantage, even if he was in harm's way. Big harm. This man was so angry and everything that Philippos was saying and doing was only making the situation that much worse. It was the spice of life. Philippos was never one to be locked into the same mundane world day after day. This whole ordeal was what life was made of.
"Stop being so serious." He waved his drunken hand around like he was some flittering bird in the midst of a spring bath. Philippos was a fool, he looked it, sounded it, the whole package. And he didn't care. He just continued on in this flippant way. Nike would handle it.
The sudden silence took Pos by surprise. A hand pushed into his chest as he looked around as though he had no idea what had happened. He had just watched the man topple to the floor and somehow still looked bewildered. Circling his fingers around the wrist of Nike and raising it up into the air. "Hurrah for Commander Nike of Acarissss." His ess trailing long as any drunk would have done. Instead, there was a change in attack as Nike grabbed Philippos instead. It wasn't like it was hard to break his grasp and this made more sense... he was drawing more attention.
Soon, the brute on the floor was pushed up again. Philippos just grinned as he had that look of pleading in his eyes. "I think he was more, Nik." It was almost as though he wanted to see his comrade fight. It was impressive, it was skillful. And it was saving his own ass from being exactly what she had said. His own hands were balled up in fists as he threatened to throw his own punch toward the man. It was going to take the both of them, wasn't it? Philippos was drunker than he had thought.
"Battle of 74. Den I promwise I will go." He spoke of a time, a few years back when they had had to work together. At least he was smart enough not to give away the moves as he punched hard and strong into the gut of the larger man. Instantly, he keeled forward, leaning near Nike and open for exactly what was needed to put him unconscious.
Huh, his hand immediately pressed against his jawline with a bit of rub in reaction to what she had said. An overexaggerated wince and pout were all he had for her. It was all a show. Philippos was known for it and right now he was taking full advantage, even if he was in harm's way. Big harm. This man was so angry and everything that Philippos was saying and doing was only making the situation that much worse. It was the spice of life. Philippos was never one to be locked into the same mundane world day after day. This whole ordeal was what life was made of.
"Stop being so serious." He waved his drunken hand around like he was some flittering bird in the midst of a spring bath. Philippos was a fool, he looked it, sounded it, the whole package. And he didn't care. He just continued on in this flippant way. Nike would handle it.
The sudden silence took Pos by surprise. A hand pushed into his chest as he looked around as though he had no idea what had happened. He had just watched the man topple to the floor and somehow still looked bewildered. Circling his fingers around the wrist of Nike and raising it up into the air. "Hurrah for Commander Nike of Acarissss." His ess trailing long as any drunk would have done. Instead, there was a change in attack as Nike grabbed Philippos instead. It wasn't like it was hard to break his grasp and this made more sense... he was drawing more attention.
Soon, the brute on the floor was pushed up again. Philippos just grinned as he had that look of pleading in his eyes. "I think he was more, Nik." It was almost as though he wanted to see his comrade fight. It was impressive, it was skillful. And it was saving his own ass from being exactly what she had said. His own hands were balled up in fists as he threatened to throw his own punch toward the man. It was going to take the both of them, wasn't it? Philippos was drunker than he had thought.
"Battle of 74. Den I promwise I will go." He spoke of a time, a few years back when they had had to work together. At least he was smart enough not to give away the moves as he punched hard and strong into the gut of the larger man. Instantly, he keeled forward, leaning near Nike and open for exactly what was needed to put him unconscious.
As much as she admired her friend and fellow Commander, sometimes Nike wished to throw the punch at her fool of a friend herself. Rolling her eyes when he waved a hand about like some fluttering fool, the woman caught the hand by the wrist in her tight grip, glaring at him. Though to be fair, Nike probably shouldn't have bothered - it wasn't as if Philippos even caught the hint behind her hard glare, the drunken stupor that he was in. While she was sure she'd be able to get them out of this ridiculous situation he had landed them both in - she wasn't entirely sure they'd get out unscathed.
His slurred words seemed to aggravate their assailant more, and when Philippos didn't move even as the burly male got himself off the floor, with a look that was definitely none too pleased, Nike bit back a curse. "If Vangelis hears about this, we're both running ten miles." she hissed. She knew of the battle they had worked together, but now was not the time to be picking fights with the commonfolk. Soldiers weren't meant to pick fights with them, they were supposed to protect them.
Not that she had a choice now, really.Philippos pretty much caved them in.
"Fine." She bit out, ducking just as the man keeled forward. Her punches had never been strong, a downside to her gender, and something she could never fix. But what the female Commander did have, was strong kicks and heavy boots. So even as she ducked, her left leg grounded itself, the right one heading up to bury her heel in the burly male's gut, pushing backwards with her body weight so the whole male would fall backwards with a loud crash into the table.
Screams and the sounds of crashing glass echoed throughout the tavern. A few people hurriedly made their way out, not at all eager to partake in this fight of brawn and words. Yet even as Nike straightened up again, a small, satisfied smile curled her lips upwards. She did not enjoy violence, but what she did enjoy was being able to best the man even despite her smaller size and gender - hidden as it may be. Nike always got a quick thrill out of everything she's managed to achieve so far.
Obviously angered, the large male got up yelling, lumbering over to them with his fists swinging. "Watch your face, Pos. I don't want to hear you complaining about a bruise tomorrow." she yelled over the din. As the man came nearer, Nike grabbed on to the arm, and twisting it around, used her whole body weight so the fist of the man was jabbed in his own face. That earned Nike a loud yowl as she grinned in satisfaction, and then jumped back to put some distance between herself and the enemy.
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May 18, 2019 10:57:40 GMT
Posted In Nike, Save Me on May 18, 2019 10:57:40 GMT
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As much as she admired her friend and fellow Commander, sometimes Nike wished to throw the punch at her fool of a friend herself. Rolling her eyes when he waved a hand about like some fluttering fool, the woman caught the hand by the wrist in her tight grip, glaring at him. Though to be fair, Nike probably shouldn't have bothered - it wasn't as if Philippos even caught the hint behind her hard glare, the drunken stupor that he was in. While she was sure she'd be able to get them out of this ridiculous situation he had landed them both in - she wasn't entirely sure they'd get out unscathed.
His slurred words seemed to aggravate their assailant more, and when Philippos didn't move even as the burly male got himself off the floor, with a look that was definitely none too pleased, Nike bit back a curse. "If Vangelis hears about this, we're both running ten miles." she hissed. She knew of the battle they had worked together, but now was not the time to be picking fights with the commonfolk. Soldiers weren't meant to pick fights with them, they were supposed to protect them.
Not that she had a choice now, really.Philippos pretty much caved them in.
"Fine." She bit out, ducking just as the man keeled forward. Her punches had never been strong, a downside to her gender, and something she could never fix. But what the female Commander did have, was strong kicks and heavy boots. So even as she ducked, her left leg grounded itself, the right one heading up to bury her heel in the burly male's gut, pushing backwards with her body weight so the whole male would fall backwards with a loud crash into the table.
Screams and the sounds of crashing glass echoed throughout the tavern. A few people hurriedly made their way out, not at all eager to partake in this fight of brawn and words. Yet even as Nike straightened up again, a small, satisfied smile curled her lips upwards. She did not enjoy violence, but what she did enjoy was being able to best the man even despite her smaller size and gender - hidden as it may be. Nike always got a quick thrill out of everything she's managed to achieve so far.
Obviously angered, the large male got up yelling, lumbering over to them with his fists swinging. "Watch your face, Pos. I don't want to hear you complaining about a bruise tomorrow." she yelled over the din. As the man came nearer, Nike grabbed on to the arm, and twisting it around, used her whole body weight so the fist of the man was jabbed in his own face. That earned Nike a loud yowl as she grinned in satisfaction, and then jumped back to put some distance between herself and the enemy.
As much as she admired her friend and fellow Commander, sometimes Nike wished to throw the punch at her fool of a friend herself. Rolling her eyes when he waved a hand about like some fluttering fool, the woman caught the hand by the wrist in her tight grip, glaring at him. Though to be fair, Nike probably shouldn't have bothered - it wasn't as if Philippos even caught the hint behind her hard glare, the drunken stupor that he was in. While she was sure she'd be able to get them out of this ridiculous situation he had landed them both in - she wasn't entirely sure they'd get out unscathed.
His slurred words seemed to aggravate their assailant more, and when Philippos didn't move even as the burly male got himself off the floor, with a look that was definitely none too pleased, Nike bit back a curse. "If Vangelis hears about this, we're both running ten miles." she hissed. She knew of the battle they had worked together, but now was not the time to be picking fights with the commonfolk. Soldiers weren't meant to pick fights with them, they were supposed to protect them.
Not that she had a choice now, really.Philippos pretty much caved them in.
"Fine." She bit out, ducking just as the man keeled forward. Her punches had never been strong, a downside to her gender, and something she could never fix. But what the female Commander did have, was strong kicks and heavy boots. So even as she ducked, her left leg grounded itself, the right one heading up to bury her heel in the burly male's gut, pushing backwards with her body weight so the whole male would fall backwards with a loud crash into the table.
Screams and the sounds of crashing glass echoed throughout the tavern. A few people hurriedly made their way out, not at all eager to partake in this fight of brawn and words. Yet even as Nike straightened up again, a small, satisfied smile curled her lips upwards. She did not enjoy violence, but what she did enjoy was being able to best the man even despite her smaller size and gender - hidden as it may be. Nike always got a quick thrill out of everything she's managed to achieve so far.
Obviously angered, the large male got up yelling, lumbering over to them with his fists swinging. "Watch your face, Pos. I don't want to hear you complaining about a bruise tomorrow." she yelled over the din. As the man came nearer, Nike grabbed on to the arm, and twisting it around, used her whole body weight so the fist of the man was jabbed in his own face. That earned Nike a loud yowl as she grinned in satisfaction, and then jumped back to put some distance between herself and the enemy.
In retrospect, it probably would have been best if Philippos would have listened to Nike. Actually, there were more times than he could count when he might have fewer bruises in his life if he would just listen to Nike. He should have been cringing at the thought, but it would be ten miles well-deserved if that happened. Colchis wasn't the place to have such escapades. This was a serious place. He knew that. He was raised knowing it, but still insisted on not being part of the norm.
"Well, then. Let's just make sure he doesn't find out. Until he is in a mood to just laugh about it." He huffed as he looked at the man who just wouldn't quit. Philippos didn't have any sisters, so he was unsure if he would fight this hard to defend an honor that hadn't even really been deflowered. Philippos would have liked to take her home, yet this had already been more work than he had anticipated from an innocent drunken flirtation.
The man landed with a crash. It was loud enough to echo some in the nearly silent tavern. Everyone was waiting and watching to see how this fight would end. Philippos turned and hoped that maybe that would be the end of it. This man got up again. He was just the gift that kept on giving. Philippos earned it. He had been rude and inappropriate. "Alright, you win. You are right. Let's go." He grabbed a random man's drink and downed it. He needed just a little more to be okay with the idea of a retreat. The towering brute was never going to be toppled, not for good. Philippos liked his handsome face the way it was.
So, with a skip and a jump, Philippos aimed for the door and dashed around the crowd. Nike had allowed for enough of a distracted to allow for him to get away, now it was a matter if she was cunning enough to evade the incoming fists. The man rolled them around and punched outward, people were soon in the way allowing for Phil and Nike to make an exit. What the smaller of the soldiers had asked for in the first place. And Pos was finally giving in.
Once they were outside, his expression was still that of a little kid who was amused with himself. Philippos laughed, but still managed to point a finger. "Not a word." But, Nike, like everyone else, would probably scold him for his foolishness - again.
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In retrospect, it probably would have been best if Philippos would have listened to Nike. Actually, there were more times than he could count when he might have fewer bruises in his life if he would just listen to Nike. He should have been cringing at the thought, but it would be ten miles well-deserved if that happened. Colchis wasn't the place to have such escapades. This was a serious place. He knew that. He was raised knowing it, but still insisted on not being part of the norm.
"Well, then. Let's just make sure he doesn't find out. Until he is in a mood to just laugh about it." He huffed as he looked at the man who just wouldn't quit. Philippos didn't have any sisters, so he was unsure if he would fight this hard to defend an honor that hadn't even really been deflowered. Philippos would have liked to take her home, yet this had already been more work than he had anticipated from an innocent drunken flirtation.
The man landed with a crash. It was loud enough to echo some in the nearly silent tavern. Everyone was waiting and watching to see how this fight would end. Philippos turned and hoped that maybe that would be the end of it. This man got up again. He was just the gift that kept on giving. Philippos earned it. He had been rude and inappropriate. "Alright, you win. You are right. Let's go." He grabbed a random man's drink and downed it. He needed just a little more to be okay with the idea of a retreat. The towering brute was never going to be toppled, not for good. Philippos liked his handsome face the way it was.
So, with a skip and a jump, Philippos aimed for the door and dashed around the crowd. Nike had allowed for enough of a distracted to allow for him to get away, now it was a matter if she was cunning enough to evade the incoming fists. The man rolled them around and punched outward, people were soon in the way allowing for Phil and Nike to make an exit. What the smaller of the soldiers had asked for in the first place. And Pos was finally giving in.
Once they were outside, his expression was still that of a little kid who was amused with himself. Philippos laughed, but still managed to point a finger. "Not a word." But, Nike, like everyone else, would probably scold him for his foolishness - again.
In retrospect, it probably would have been best if Philippos would have listened to Nike. Actually, there were more times than he could count when he might have fewer bruises in his life if he would just listen to Nike. He should have been cringing at the thought, but it would be ten miles well-deserved if that happened. Colchis wasn't the place to have such escapades. This was a serious place. He knew that. He was raised knowing it, but still insisted on not being part of the norm.
"Well, then. Let's just make sure he doesn't find out. Until he is in a mood to just laugh about it." He huffed as he looked at the man who just wouldn't quit. Philippos didn't have any sisters, so he was unsure if he would fight this hard to defend an honor that hadn't even really been deflowered. Philippos would have liked to take her home, yet this had already been more work than he had anticipated from an innocent drunken flirtation.
The man landed with a crash. It was loud enough to echo some in the nearly silent tavern. Everyone was waiting and watching to see how this fight would end. Philippos turned and hoped that maybe that would be the end of it. This man got up again. He was just the gift that kept on giving. Philippos earned it. He had been rude and inappropriate. "Alright, you win. You are right. Let's go." He grabbed a random man's drink and downed it. He needed just a little more to be okay with the idea of a retreat. The towering brute was never going to be toppled, not for good. Philippos liked his handsome face the way it was.
So, with a skip and a jump, Philippos aimed for the door and dashed around the crowd. Nike had allowed for enough of a distracted to allow for him to get away, now it was a matter if she was cunning enough to evade the incoming fists. The man rolled them around and punched outward, people were soon in the way allowing for Phil and Nike to make an exit. What the smaller of the soldiers had asked for in the first place. And Pos was finally giving in.
Once they were outside, his expression was still that of a little kid who was amused with himself. Philippos laughed, but still managed to point a finger. "Not a word." But, Nike, like everyone else, would probably scold him for his foolishness - again.
It was always a better idea to listen to Nike - the woman had a brain far more logical and level headed then half, not including Vangelis. Much of it was his influence, yet more of it was also the affect of having to grow up before her age and learning to fend for herself, which meant Nike had a compartmentalized way of thinking that got things done strategically and quickly
Of course, no one tended to pick the best way first. And as the man got up with a groan, Nike had to admit with some relief that she was glad he finally admitted they should go. Any more of a brawl with the stubborn, large man at the bar, and Nike doubted any of them would be getting away easily - he for the alcohol, she for she simply could not beat the man, by pure size comparison. So right behind Philippos, Nike darted for the door as well, ducking just as his large arm came swinging, sliding the final meter or so to shut the door behind them. As they ran off, the door was met with a crash, Nike guessed he tried giving chase, but she had timed it so the door closed right in his face.
She allowed herself a grin as they two laughed, and then rolled her eyes, swatting his pointed finger away as she slid her hands into her pockets, and began strolling towards the darkened streets of Midas towards the lower quarters where the Commanders and Captains had their private residences whenever they were back in Midas between campaigns. "Considering I just saved your life Pos... I should say I can be granted a favor, right?" Nike mockingly teased him, grinning as they headed back towards their quarters.
The lamps were dimming by then, another signal of how late the night was, the wind chillier by the hour. The woman tilted her head upwards towards the sky a little to enjoy the gentle caress of the chilled night air, one of the last few chances to enjoy the chill as summer began to arrive bringing with it dry winds. As a military Commander, Nike preferred the cold to the heat - it helped when the heat was not around to make people feel sluggish and slow. Addressing her friend over her shoulder as she paused to wait for him, she said "So I take my favor... of retelling this story to as many people as I want." she turned to gauge where he was, and then without any warning grabbed him by his neck and held him in a chokehold that stilled his movements but was not tight enough as to strangle him, simply hold him in place. "I can't believe you implied the man's sister was a whore to his face, you fool. Do you have a death wish?"
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May 18, 2019 10:58:35 GMT
Posted In Nike, Save Me on May 18, 2019 10:58:35 GMT
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It was always a better idea to listen to Nike - the woman had a brain far more logical and level headed then half, not including Vangelis. Much of it was his influence, yet more of it was also the affect of having to grow up before her age and learning to fend for herself, which meant Nike had a compartmentalized way of thinking that got things done strategically and quickly
Of course, no one tended to pick the best way first. And as the man got up with a groan, Nike had to admit with some relief that she was glad he finally admitted they should go. Any more of a brawl with the stubborn, large man at the bar, and Nike doubted any of them would be getting away easily - he for the alcohol, she for she simply could not beat the man, by pure size comparison. So right behind Philippos, Nike darted for the door as well, ducking just as his large arm came swinging, sliding the final meter or so to shut the door behind them. As they ran off, the door was met with a crash, Nike guessed he tried giving chase, but she had timed it so the door closed right in his face.
She allowed herself a grin as they two laughed, and then rolled her eyes, swatting his pointed finger away as she slid her hands into her pockets, and began strolling towards the darkened streets of Midas towards the lower quarters where the Commanders and Captains had their private residences whenever they were back in Midas between campaigns. "Considering I just saved your life Pos... I should say I can be granted a favor, right?" Nike mockingly teased him, grinning as they headed back towards their quarters.
The lamps were dimming by then, another signal of how late the night was, the wind chillier by the hour. The woman tilted her head upwards towards the sky a little to enjoy the gentle caress of the chilled night air, one of the last few chances to enjoy the chill as summer began to arrive bringing with it dry winds. As a military Commander, Nike preferred the cold to the heat - it helped when the heat was not around to make people feel sluggish and slow. Addressing her friend over her shoulder as she paused to wait for him, she said "So I take my favor... of retelling this story to as many people as I want." she turned to gauge where he was, and then without any warning grabbed him by his neck and held him in a chokehold that stilled his movements but was not tight enough as to strangle him, simply hold him in place. "I can't believe you implied the man's sister was a whore to his face, you fool. Do you have a death wish?"
It was always a better idea to listen to Nike - the woman had a brain far more logical and level headed then half, not including Vangelis. Much of it was his influence, yet more of it was also the affect of having to grow up before her age and learning to fend for herself, which meant Nike had a compartmentalized way of thinking that got things done strategically and quickly
Of course, no one tended to pick the best way first. And as the man got up with a groan, Nike had to admit with some relief that she was glad he finally admitted they should go. Any more of a brawl with the stubborn, large man at the bar, and Nike doubted any of them would be getting away easily - he for the alcohol, she for she simply could not beat the man, by pure size comparison. So right behind Philippos, Nike darted for the door as well, ducking just as his large arm came swinging, sliding the final meter or so to shut the door behind them. As they ran off, the door was met with a crash, Nike guessed he tried giving chase, but she had timed it so the door closed right in his face.
She allowed herself a grin as they two laughed, and then rolled her eyes, swatting his pointed finger away as she slid her hands into her pockets, and began strolling towards the darkened streets of Midas towards the lower quarters where the Commanders and Captains had their private residences whenever they were back in Midas between campaigns. "Considering I just saved your life Pos... I should say I can be granted a favor, right?" Nike mockingly teased him, grinning as they headed back towards their quarters.
The lamps were dimming by then, another signal of how late the night was, the wind chillier by the hour. The woman tilted her head upwards towards the sky a little to enjoy the gentle caress of the chilled night air, one of the last few chances to enjoy the chill as summer began to arrive bringing with it dry winds. As a military Commander, Nike preferred the cold to the heat - it helped when the heat was not around to make people feel sluggish and slow. Addressing her friend over her shoulder as she paused to wait for him, she said "So I take my favor... of retelling this story to as many people as I want." she turned to gauge where he was, and then without any warning grabbed him by his neck and held him in a chokehold that stilled his movements but was not tight enough as to strangle him, simply hold him in place. "I can't believe you implied the man's sister was a whore to his face, you fool. Do you have a death wish?"
He turned and hushed as their walking could be a bit more casual. Philippos and Nike were headed in the same direction, even if his walking was a bit more of a wander. ”Of course. Fine. One favor.” He replied with a nod. It was a solid argument. Philippos knew he would have been done for if Nike wouldn’t have shown up. He had dug a hole that even he couldn’t have dug himself out of. There was no way. And none of the other men that had sat around with him at the table were going to come save his ass. That was Nike’s ...kindness?
And there it was. The other shoe. It dropped and hit the floor with a big bang as she had directly contradicted what his command had been. That was the exact opposite of not saying a word to anyone. What was he supposed to say to that? He had granted Nike a favor. She had deserved one after all that she had done. His hand rubbed his jaw. ”Okay.” He grumbled before he stumbled forward a few more steps. He staggered and ran into the cold stone of a building. A pause was needed to gain his balance as the other commander kept on walking. Which only made him attempt to catch up after the break. Heavy steps nearly echoing off the buildings as they went further into the lower district.
”You must tell it that it was a large guy. Really huge.” His hands were held up and then out to show how big he hoped the story would be told. A brute twice the size of the one they had really fought. Philippos was always one for exaggerating his own stories, but now he wanted this one to be stretched as well. It started as one big misunderstanding, until Philippos had said just that. He had implied that the girl was a whore and this was apparently the most protective brother in all of Colchis.
”She did not belong in a tavern, Nike. Come on?!” His hands flew upward with emphasis on the words which in turn caused the commander to take a step backward. The momentum changed a few times as he teetered and began walking forward once again. ”Every soldier has a death wish.” His funny comments and enthusiastic words were now halted as he spoke just a bit of wisdom and truth into the dark night air. Philippos was soon looking at one house and then another, obviously not entirely sure which path he was going to take to get back to his own home.
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He turned and hushed as their walking could be a bit more casual. Philippos and Nike were headed in the same direction, even if his walking was a bit more of a wander. ”Of course. Fine. One favor.” He replied with a nod. It was a solid argument. Philippos knew he would have been done for if Nike wouldn’t have shown up. He had dug a hole that even he couldn’t have dug himself out of. There was no way. And none of the other men that had sat around with him at the table were going to come save his ass. That was Nike’s ...kindness?
And there it was. The other shoe. It dropped and hit the floor with a big bang as she had directly contradicted what his command had been. That was the exact opposite of not saying a word to anyone. What was he supposed to say to that? He had granted Nike a favor. She had deserved one after all that she had done. His hand rubbed his jaw. ”Okay.” He grumbled before he stumbled forward a few more steps. He staggered and ran into the cold stone of a building. A pause was needed to gain his balance as the other commander kept on walking. Which only made him attempt to catch up after the break. Heavy steps nearly echoing off the buildings as they went further into the lower district.
”You must tell it that it was a large guy. Really huge.” His hands were held up and then out to show how big he hoped the story would be told. A brute twice the size of the one they had really fought. Philippos was always one for exaggerating his own stories, but now he wanted this one to be stretched as well. It started as one big misunderstanding, until Philippos had said just that. He had implied that the girl was a whore and this was apparently the most protective brother in all of Colchis.
”She did not belong in a tavern, Nike. Come on?!” His hands flew upward with emphasis on the words which in turn caused the commander to take a step backward. The momentum changed a few times as he teetered and began walking forward once again. ”Every soldier has a death wish.” His funny comments and enthusiastic words were now halted as he spoke just a bit of wisdom and truth into the dark night air. Philippos was soon looking at one house and then another, obviously not entirely sure which path he was going to take to get back to his own home.
He turned and hushed as their walking could be a bit more casual. Philippos and Nike were headed in the same direction, even if his walking was a bit more of a wander. ”Of course. Fine. One favor.” He replied with a nod. It was a solid argument. Philippos knew he would have been done for if Nike wouldn’t have shown up. He had dug a hole that even he couldn’t have dug himself out of. There was no way. And none of the other men that had sat around with him at the table were going to come save his ass. That was Nike’s ...kindness?
And there it was. The other shoe. It dropped and hit the floor with a big bang as she had directly contradicted what his command had been. That was the exact opposite of not saying a word to anyone. What was he supposed to say to that? He had granted Nike a favor. She had deserved one after all that she had done. His hand rubbed his jaw. ”Okay.” He grumbled before he stumbled forward a few more steps. He staggered and ran into the cold stone of a building. A pause was needed to gain his balance as the other commander kept on walking. Which only made him attempt to catch up after the break. Heavy steps nearly echoing off the buildings as they went further into the lower district.
”You must tell it that it was a large guy. Really huge.” His hands were held up and then out to show how big he hoped the story would be told. A brute twice the size of the one they had really fought. Philippos was always one for exaggerating his own stories, but now he wanted this one to be stretched as well. It started as one big misunderstanding, until Philippos had said just that. He had implied that the girl was a whore and this was apparently the most protective brother in all of Colchis.
”She did not belong in a tavern, Nike. Come on?!” His hands flew upward with emphasis on the words which in turn caused the commander to take a step backward. The momentum changed a few times as he teetered and began walking forward once again. ”Every soldier has a death wish.” His funny comments and enthusiastic words were now halted as he spoke just a bit of wisdom and truth into the dark night air. Philippos was soon looking at one house and then another, obviously not entirely sure which path he was going to take to get back to his own home.
She had to stifle a laugh at how reluctant her friend looked when Nike more or less bullied her way into holding this story over Philippos's head. Of course, it would all be done in good jest, and Nike would likely only bring this story out whenever thinsg in the campaign got difficult enough that they would need some fodder for relaxation and entertainment. The fact that Philippos would be her fodder for entertainment was just a stroke of bad luck for her friend, really. He dug himself into that hole afterall.
Turning over her shoulder, the Commander raised her brow when she saw Philippos jogging to keep up, noting the slight sway in his walk - and wrinkled her nose. She had never enjoyed someone who lost their senses after the drink. It was the reason her father had killed her mother, and it was the impetus that had ended up with Nike forced to live a life of deceit as she worked her way in the Colchian army. She had no love for someone who would lose their senses to alcohol. Luckily however, Philippos seemed to only have lost half of it, so for now Nike would leave it be.
Raising a brow, the woman scoffed, but let his request be left unanswered. She was not going to exaggerate how large the man was, it wasn't the point of the story after all. But what she would do is just drag Philippos to tell his version of the story. Their comrades would take a laugh out of their differing versions of the story, and likely believe in Nike over Philippos really. But the whole point was to have a good laugh and some fun, not just tell a truthful - or untruthful, in her friend's case- story.
"She did not, I agree. But that doesn't mean you can go around insinuating. They had bad circumstances.' she replied with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders, and then grabbed Pos's collar to stabilize him so he wouldn't fall flat on his face. It was true, that every soldier has a death wish, yet she did not see someone who came so close to taunting Hades by his own two hands, as Philippos. Vangelis had it right. Her friend always seemed to be right where trouble would bury his own two feet, or right on the heels of it anyway.
Almost running into him as he halted, she grinded to a halt, and then stared at his blank face, before giving an amused huff that was mixed with frustration. Taking him by his shoulders, she turned him to the right, and started marching him uphill along the houses lining the Lower Levels. "Obviously I'm going to have to walk your drunk ass home, or I'll find you headfirst in a pond tomorrow morning." she grumbled, pushing him forward with her firm grip. "Can you even recognize your own front door at this point?"
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May 18, 2019 10:59:30 GMT
Posted In Nike, Save Me on May 18, 2019 10:59:30 GMT
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She had to stifle a laugh at how reluctant her friend looked when Nike more or less bullied her way into holding this story over Philippos's head. Of course, it would all be done in good jest, and Nike would likely only bring this story out whenever thinsg in the campaign got difficult enough that they would need some fodder for relaxation and entertainment. The fact that Philippos would be her fodder for entertainment was just a stroke of bad luck for her friend, really. He dug himself into that hole afterall.
Turning over her shoulder, the Commander raised her brow when she saw Philippos jogging to keep up, noting the slight sway in his walk - and wrinkled her nose. She had never enjoyed someone who lost their senses after the drink. It was the reason her father had killed her mother, and it was the impetus that had ended up with Nike forced to live a life of deceit as she worked her way in the Colchian army. She had no love for someone who would lose their senses to alcohol. Luckily however, Philippos seemed to only have lost half of it, so for now Nike would leave it be.
Raising a brow, the woman scoffed, but let his request be left unanswered. She was not going to exaggerate how large the man was, it wasn't the point of the story after all. But what she would do is just drag Philippos to tell his version of the story. Their comrades would take a laugh out of their differing versions of the story, and likely believe in Nike over Philippos really. But the whole point was to have a good laugh and some fun, not just tell a truthful - or untruthful, in her friend's case- story.
"She did not, I agree. But that doesn't mean you can go around insinuating. They had bad circumstances.' she replied with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders, and then grabbed Pos's collar to stabilize him so he wouldn't fall flat on his face. It was true, that every soldier has a death wish, yet she did not see someone who came so close to taunting Hades by his own two hands, as Philippos. Vangelis had it right. Her friend always seemed to be right where trouble would bury his own two feet, or right on the heels of it anyway.
Almost running into him as he halted, she grinded to a halt, and then stared at his blank face, before giving an amused huff that was mixed with frustration. Taking him by his shoulders, she turned him to the right, and started marching him uphill along the houses lining the Lower Levels. "Obviously I'm going to have to walk your drunk ass home, or I'll find you headfirst in a pond tomorrow morning." she grumbled, pushing him forward with her firm grip. "Can you even recognize your own front door at this point?"
She had to stifle a laugh at how reluctant her friend looked when Nike more or less bullied her way into holding this story over Philippos's head. Of course, it would all be done in good jest, and Nike would likely only bring this story out whenever thinsg in the campaign got difficult enough that they would need some fodder for relaxation and entertainment. The fact that Philippos would be her fodder for entertainment was just a stroke of bad luck for her friend, really. He dug himself into that hole afterall.
Turning over her shoulder, the Commander raised her brow when she saw Philippos jogging to keep up, noting the slight sway in his walk - and wrinkled her nose. She had never enjoyed someone who lost their senses after the drink. It was the reason her father had killed her mother, and it was the impetus that had ended up with Nike forced to live a life of deceit as she worked her way in the Colchian army. She had no love for someone who would lose their senses to alcohol. Luckily however, Philippos seemed to only have lost half of it, so for now Nike would leave it be.
Raising a brow, the woman scoffed, but let his request be left unanswered. She was not going to exaggerate how large the man was, it wasn't the point of the story after all. But what she would do is just drag Philippos to tell his version of the story. Their comrades would take a laugh out of their differing versions of the story, and likely believe in Nike over Philippos really. But the whole point was to have a good laugh and some fun, not just tell a truthful - or untruthful, in her friend's case- story.
"She did not, I agree. But that doesn't mean you can go around insinuating. They had bad circumstances.' she replied with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders, and then grabbed Pos's collar to stabilize him so he wouldn't fall flat on his face. It was true, that every soldier has a death wish, yet she did not see someone who came so close to taunting Hades by his own two hands, as Philippos. Vangelis had it right. Her friend always seemed to be right where trouble would bury his own two feet, or right on the heels of it anyway.
Almost running into him as he halted, she grinded to a halt, and then stared at his blank face, before giving an amused huff that was mixed with frustration. Taking him by his shoulders, she turned him to the right, and started marching him uphill along the houses lining the Lower Levels. "Obviously I'm going to have to walk your drunk ass home, or I'll find you headfirst in a pond tomorrow morning." she grumbled, pushing him forward with her firm grip. "Can you even recognize your own front door at this point?"
She had a point. It had happened before. Philippos had found himself in all sorts of precarious situations, it was some miracle that he hadn’t ruined his reputation completely. There would be a day it would be taken too far. That would be the day that Vangelis could no longer get his ass out of trouble. And maybe that was the precise reason Nike had come to find him. He needed to do better. Be better. Just not tonight.
The roads all looked the same. The houses were mostly the same color with very like doors and windows. This mystery was only enhanced in the darkness. He didn’t even have to be drunk to struggle find his home. But, the odds were stacked against him looking from one and then another. Rather dramatically his hand went to his chin in some stereotypical, over the top expression of thought. ”I’m going to go with…. no.” His arms flopped down. A quick look here and dart there. One of them was his quaint home, one he barely used since he was usually on campaigns.
”Can you recognize my front door?” He responded with a mocking sort of tone. It was all in good fun, he didn’t really mean way. Just that Philippos attitude late at night while drunk on a bit too much ale. Nike should have expected it from him. Nike wasn’t drunk. She would be able to help him down the street and to the small home. Philippos pushed through the wooden door into the dark silence. He lived alone. There was no wife in his life, no children, nothing. He was a social person and spent his waking hours elsewhere. The home was merely a place to rest and perhaps entertain a lady.
”We made it.” His posture slumped against the wall once again as he looked around, eyes finally adjusted to the dimness. His arms limp at his sides. It was a good thing the wall was sturdy as he unhooked his belt that held his longsword. He hadn’t even thought to draw the weapon in the tavern - likely for the best. It was tossed sloppily to the side. Attention moving from one thing and then another. His feet giving him problems as he trudged around a bit. It wasn’t a big place. A room for the living area with the bed in the corner. He had no need for anything fancy.
CLUNK!
Philippos tripped over something, probably his own sword he had thrown, and fell to the floor with a burst of laughter. And there he lay helpless for a long, long moment. "Nike... do a friend a favor?" His hand wiggled as his cheek smushed against the floor made his voice sort of funny. "Help me to bed?" The woman he was going to woo was gone, Nike was all there was left to help him, save him.
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She had a point. It had happened before. Philippos had found himself in all sorts of precarious situations, it was some miracle that he hadn’t ruined his reputation completely. There would be a day it would be taken too far. That would be the day that Vangelis could no longer get his ass out of trouble. And maybe that was the precise reason Nike had come to find him. He needed to do better. Be better. Just not tonight.
The roads all looked the same. The houses were mostly the same color with very like doors and windows. This mystery was only enhanced in the darkness. He didn’t even have to be drunk to struggle find his home. But, the odds were stacked against him looking from one and then another. Rather dramatically his hand went to his chin in some stereotypical, over the top expression of thought. ”I’m going to go with…. no.” His arms flopped down. A quick look here and dart there. One of them was his quaint home, one he barely used since he was usually on campaigns.
”Can you recognize my front door?” He responded with a mocking sort of tone. It was all in good fun, he didn’t really mean way. Just that Philippos attitude late at night while drunk on a bit too much ale. Nike should have expected it from him. Nike wasn’t drunk. She would be able to help him down the street and to the small home. Philippos pushed through the wooden door into the dark silence. He lived alone. There was no wife in his life, no children, nothing. He was a social person and spent his waking hours elsewhere. The home was merely a place to rest and perhaps entertain a lady.
”We made it.” His posture slumped against the wall once again as he looked around, eyes finally adjusted to the dimness. His arms limp at his sides. It was a good thing the wall was sturdy as he unhooked his belt that held his longsword. He hadn’t even thought to draw the weapon in the tavern - likely for the best. It was tossed sloppily to the side. Attention moving from one thing and then another. His feet giving him problems as he trudged around a bit. It wasn’t a big place. A room for the living area with the bed in the corner. He had no need for anything fancy.
CLUNK!
Philippos tripped over something, probably his own sword he had thrown, and fell to the floor with a burst of laughter. And there he lay helpless for a long, long moment. "Nike... do a friend a favor?" His hand wiggled as his cheek smushed against the floor made his voice sort of funny. "Help me to bed?" The woman he was going to woo was gone, Nike was all there was left to help him, save him.
She had a point. It had happened before. Philippos had found himself in all sorts of precarious situations, it was some miracle that he hadn’t ruined his reputation completely. There would be a day it would be taken too far. That would be the day that Vangelis could no longer get his ass out of trouble. And maybe that was the precise reason Nike had come to find him. He needed to do better. Be better. Just not tonight.
The roads all looked the same. The houses were mostly the same color with very like doors and windows. This mystery was only enhanced in the darkness. He didn’t even have to be drunk to struggle find his home. But, the odds were stacked against him looking from one and then another. Rather dramatically his hand went to his chin in some stereotypical, over the top expression of thought. ”I’m going to go with…. no.” His arms flopped down. A quick look here and dart there. One of them was his quaint home, one he barely used since he was usually on campaigns.
”Can you recognize my front door?” He responded with a mocking sort of tone. It was all in good fun, he didn’t really mean way. Just that Philippos attitude late at night while drunk on a bit too much ale. Nike should have expected it from him. Nike wasn’t drunk. She would be able to help him down the street and to the small home. Philippos pushed through the wooden door into the dark silence. He lived alone. There was no wife in his life, no children, nothing. He was a social person and spent his waking hours elsewhere. The home was merely a place to rest and perhaps entertain a lady.
”We made it.” His posture slumped against the wall once again as he looked around, eyes finally adjusted to the dimness. His arms limp at his sides. It was a good thing the wall was sturdy as he unhooked his belt that held his longsword. He hadn’t even thought to draw the weapon in the tavern - likely for the best. It was tossed sloppily to the side. Attention moving from one thing and then another. His feet giving him problems as he trudged around a bit. It wasn’t a big place. A room for the living area with the bed in the corner. He had no need for anything fancy.
CLUNK!
Philippos tripped over something, probably his own sword he had thrown, and fell to the floor with a burst of laughter. And there he lay helpless for a long, long moment. "Nike... do a friend a favor?" His hand wiggled as his cheek smushed against the floor made his voice sort of funny. "Help me to bed?" The woman he was going to woo was gone, Nike was all there was left to help him, save him.
Honestly, if she spent more time with him, Nike half suspected her eyes would roll out of their sockets, with how often Philippos made her roll them at the absurdity of his actions. While it was dark, anyone would be able to recognize the minor differences between houses and the doors that marked them. Of course, when one was as drunk as her dear, drunk-as-a-doorknob friend here, likely not. If he had his luck, he would stumble upon the house of a poor, unsuspecting woman and Nike would have to extricate his ass out of yet another messy situation.
So with a long suffering sigh, she grabbed his arm and half dragged him on the upward slope of road that the residences of the Lower Levels were built on, swatting his head with the back of her hand as she did so for his feigned mock. "How about I just let you sleep in the fountain in the square, see how you like that." she retorted snarkily. Her eyes managed to pick both pairs of feet, navigating through the cobbled streets until they got to the small front door that was about two streets away from her own small residence, and it was there that she finally allowed Philippos out of her grip, and followed him through the front door.
"Yes, we did. No thanks to you." Nike replied dryly. She didn't meant to sound mean really, and she doubted Philippos would take it the wrong way. She had just always conversed as such when it came to her closer companions in the upper ranks of the military. Nike's natural disposition was that of a friendly nature, more caring and concerned for her friends and loved ones. It was why she watched over Vangelis so closely, and likely why he gave her the position of his head bodyguard. However, she also could not show that side of herself when it came to her underlings. As such, Nike's brand of compassion and care came out a little twisted, with her dry humor added into it so it did not appear as soft and womanly as she would have it look.
Remaining by the edge of the doorway, her golden eyes watched her friend as he slumped against the wall, cringing when the tossed weapon belt made a loud sound in the otherwise quiet night. The woman itched to pick it up, but refused to pick up after a grown ass man.
And then he fell over the damned weapon himself.
At that point, Nike groaned and buried her face in her hands, caught between laughing and bemoaning the fool of a friend that she had. Sliding her hand down so her eyes could peer over her palm, she chortled when she saw the way Philippos was smashed against the floor, his voice sounding all odd and stuffed as he spoke against the ground, before finally shaking her head wryly. "Pos, you will end up killing yourself, I swear. How did you manage to stay alive so long again?"
With a heavy sigh, she stepped forward, unhooking her own weapon so it wouldn't accidentally stab her friend. Once she had left her sword over a table, Nike grabbed the hand above him, and heaved it over her shoulder. One hand slipped around his waist, before she finally managed to heave him to a half standing position by using her shoulder to support the majority of his body weight. There, the woman half dragged, half nudged her drunken friend to walk towards the bed in a corner, where she more or less fell in it as she lost balance to drop him against it. Head against the wall, she muttered a muffled curse, extricating her hands enough to shove him against his pillow. "Gods be damned Pos, you can eat a little less." she half growled, breathless as she tried to pull her legs out from under his deadweight ones.
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May 18, 2019 11:00:25 GMT
Posted In Nike, Save Me on May 18, 2019 11:00:25 GMT
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Honestly, if she spent more time with him, Nike half suspected her eyes would roll out of their sockets, with how often Philippos made her roll them at the absurdity of his actions. While it was dark, anyone would be able to recognize the minor differences between houses and the doors that marked them. Of course, when one was as drunk as her dear, drunk-as-a-doorknob friend here, likely not. If he had his luck, he would stumble upon the house of a poor, unsuspecting woman and Nike would have to extricate his ass out of yet another messy situation.
So with a long suffering sigh, she grabbed his arm and half dragged him on the upward slope of road that the residences of the Lower Levels were built on, swatting his head with the back of her hand as she did so for his feigned mock. "How about I just let you sleep in the fountain in the square, see how you like that." she retorted snarkily. Her eyes managed to pick both pairs of feet, navigating through the cobbled streets until they got to the small front door that was about two streets away from her own small residence, and it was there that she finally allowed Philippos out of her grip, and followed him through the front door.
"Yes, we did. No thanks to you." Nike replied dryly. She didn't meant to sound mean really, and she doubted Philippos would take it the wrong way. She had just always conversed as such when it came to her closer companions in the upper ranks of the military. Nike's natural disposition was that of a friendly nature, more caring and concerned for her friends and loved ones. It was why she watched over Vangelis so closely, and likely why he gave her the position of his head bodyguard. However, she also could not show that side of herself when it came to her underlings. As such, Nike's brand of compassion and care came out a little twisted, with her dry humor added into it so it did not appear as soft and womanly as she would have it look.
Remaining by the edge of the doorway, her golden eyes watched her friend as he slumped against the wall, cringing when the tossed weapon belt made a loud sound in the otherwise quiet night. The woman itched to pick it up, but refused to pick up after a grown ass man.
And then he fell over the damned weapon himself.
At that point, Nike groaned and buried her face in her hands, caught between laughing and bemoaning the fool of a friend that she had. Sliding her hand down so her eyes could peer over her palm, she chortled when she saw the way Philippos was smashed against the floor, his voice sounding all odd and stuffed as he spoke against the ground, before finally shaking her head wryly. "Pos, you will end up killing yourself, I swear. How did you manage to stay alive so long again?"
With a heavy sigh, she stepped forward, unhooking her own weapon so it wouldn't accidentally stab her friend. Once she had left her sword over a table, Nike grabbed the hand above him, and heaved it over her shoulder. One hand slipped around his waist, before she finally managed to heave him to a half standing position by using her shoulder to support the majority of his body weight. There, the woman half dragged, half nudged her drunken friend to walk towards the bed in a corner, where she more or less fell in it as she lost balance to drop him against it. Head against the wall, she muttered a muffled curse, extricating her hands enough to shove him against his pillow. "Gods be damned Pos, you can eat a little less." she half growled, breathless as she tried to pull her legs out from under his deadweight ones.
Honestly, if she spent more time with him, Nike half suspected her eyes would roll out of their sockets, with how often Philippos made her roll them at the absurdity of his actions. While it was dark, anyone would be able to recognize the minor differences between houses and the doors that marked them. Of course, when one was as drunk as her dear, drunk-as-a-doorknob friend here, likely not. If he had his luck, he would stumble upon the house of a poor, unsuspecting woman and Nike would have to extricate his ass out of yet another messy situation.
So with a long suffering sigh, she grabbed his arm and half dragged him on the upward slope of road that the residences of the Lower Levels were built on, swatting his head with the back of her hand as she did so for his feigned mock. "How about I just let you sleep in the fountain in the square, see how you like that." she retorted snarkily. Her eyes managed to pick both pairs of feet, navigating through the cobbled streets until they got to the small front door that was about two streets away from her own small residence, and it was there that she finally allowed Philippos out of her grip, and followed him through the front door.
"Yes, we did. No thanks to you." Nike replied dryly. She didn't meant to sound mean really, and she doubted Philippos would take it the wrong way. She had just always conversed as such when it came to her closer companions in the upper ranks of the military. Nike's natural disposition was that of a friendly nature, more caring and concerned for her friends and loved ones. It was why she watched over Vangelis so closely, and likely why he gave her the position of his head bodyguard. However, she also could not show that side of herself when it came to her underlings. As such, Nike's brand of compassion and care came out a little twisted, with her dry humor added into it so it did not appear as soft and womanly as she would have it look.
Remaining by the edge of the doorway, her golden eyes watched her friend as he slumped against the wall, cringing when the tossed weapon belt made a loud sound in the otherwise quiet night. The woman itched to pick it up, but refused to pick up after a grown ass man.
And then he fell over the damned weapon himself.
At that point, Nike groaned and buried her face in her hands, caught between laughing and bemoaning the fool of a friend that she had. Sliding her hand down so her eyes could peer over her palm, she chortled when she saw the way Philippos was smashed against the floor, his voice sounding all odd and stuffed as he spoke against the ground, before finally shaking her head wryly. "Pos, you will end up killing yourself, I swear. How did you manage to stay alive so long again?"
With a heavy sigh, she stepped forward, unhooking her own weapon so it wouldn't accidentally stab her friend. Once she had left her sword over a table, Nike grabbed the hand above him, and heaved it over her shoulder. One hand slipped around his waist, before she finally managed to heave him to a half standing position by using her shoulder to support the majority of his body weight. There, the woman half dragged, half nudged her drunken friend to walk towards the bed in a corner, where she more or less fell in it as she lost balance to drop him against it. Head against the wall, she muttered a muffled curse, extricating her hands enough to shove him against his pillow. "Gods be damned Pos, you can eat a little less." she half growled, breathless as she tried to pull her legs out from under his deadweight ones.
If there was an award for surviving the longest against the odds, Philippos would be a shoe in. The man put himself in terrible situations and didn’t even handle them well. His humor wasn’t always well respected among the people of Colchis. He was different. He always had been. Sure, he had focused his life on fighting and being a good soldier, but there was just something different about the way he acted. Though, it did make him stand out and probably one of the reasons he had managed to make it this far. Despite his often drunkenness and his yearn for a new woman each week...or night, he was a good man with the best of intentions.
”I will never reveal my secrets.” His hand raised off the floor with a hand that opened and closed a few times in rapid succession begging for the help he needed to get off the floor. It had worked! Pos couldn’t help but adorn a sloppy smile as he heard the footsteps moving closer in the dark. Nike was going to save him again.
He tried his best to help with movement, but it actually wasn’t much. Instead, he was pushed, shoved, with the shuffles heard against the floor as his feet dragged along until they reached the final destination. It was a bed with some layers of fine wool. Philippos didn’t need to spend much of his income on anything extravagant, but he didn’t have a comfortable bed - it was where he spent most of his time when home. Sleeping and otherwise. Though, when he landed, he hadn’t expected for Nike to come down with him.
They were tangled on the cushy pallet in one of the most awkward positions considering who they were. Her hands pushed and pulled as he was jostled here and there. ”Ow.” Was his only rebuttal into the cool night air. It was a flat tone, she hadn’t really hurt him when the hands pressed into his chest and shoved him deep into his pillow. But, she was also not free. Not yet. As his legs held her close in some sort of revenge - or maybe it was being grateful.
Philippos had only had these types of urges from time to time in some sort of curiosity - especially when his mind was more open and free to different ideas when drunk. Maybe it was the darkness, maybe it was the help, maybe it was the alluring angular features of Nike’s face that he couldn’t explain. He was still in complete ignorance of the truth. And maybe it was the fact that he had been completely worked up to be shot down by the beautiful lass in the tavern. There were more reasons and many of them worse than the next as to why he somehow managed to wrap his hands around Nike’s wrists and pull her back down on top of him.
”Thank you for always looking out for me, Nik…” His words breathy and quiet, unlike the boisterous Pos she might have been used to. His hand cupped around the back of Nike’s neck and pulled her closer before his lips pressed against hers in an unexpected form of affection. It didn’t even necessarily have to be sexual, did it? He was being thankful for what she had done, care that his own family had never really shown him. And maybe it wasn’t meant to go further than just the pressure of lips - maybe leaning towards passionate. Course, Philippos never did much half-assed. It was for the best that Philippos didn’t know that Nike was a woman… because the kiss might have been far more affectionate than the experienced caress he attempted in his drunken stupor.
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JD
Staff Team
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If there was an award for surviving the longest against the odds, Philippos would be a shoe in. The man put himself in terrible situations and didn’t even handle them well. His humor wasn’t always well respected among the people of Colchis. He was different. He always had been. Sure, he had focused his life on fighting and being a good soldier, but there was just something different about the way he acted. Though, it did make him stand out and probably one of the reasons he had managed to make it this far. Despite his often drunkenness and his yearn for a new woman each week...or night, he was a good man with the best of intentions.
”I will never reveal my secrets.” His hand raised off the floor with a hand that opened and closed a few times in rapid succession begging for the help he needed to get off the floor. It had worked! Pos couldn’t help but adorn a sloppy smile as he heard the footsteps moving closer in the dark. Nike was going to save him again.
He tried his best to help with movement, but it actually wasn’t much. Instead, he was pushed, shoved, with the shuffles heard against the floor as his feet dragged along until they reached the final destination. It was a bed with some layers of fine wool. Philippos didn’t need to spend much of his income on anything extravagant, but he didn’t have a comfortable bed - it was where he spent most of his time when home. Sleeping and otherwise. Though, when he landed, he hadn’t expected for Nike to come down with him.
They were tangled on the cushy pallet in one of the most awkward positions considering who they were. Her hands pushed and pulled as he was jostled here and there. ”Ow.” Was his only rebuttal into the cool night air. It was a flat tone, she hadn’t really hurt him when the hands pressed into his chest and shoved him deep into his pillow. But, she was also not free. Not yet. As his legs held her close in some sort of revenge - or maybe it was being grateful.
Philippos had only had these types of urges from time to time in some sort of curiosity - especially when his mind was more open and free to different ideas when drunk. Maybe it was the darkness, maybe it was the help, maybe it was the alluring angular features of Nike’s face that he couldn’t explain. He was still in complete ignorance of the truth. And maybe it was the fact that he had been completely worked up to be shot down by the beautiful lass in the tavern. There were more reasons and many of them worse than the next as to why he somehow managed to wrap his hands around Nike’s wrists and pull her back down on top of him.
”Thank you for always looking out for me, Nik…” His words breathy and quiet, unlike the boisterous Pos she might have been used to. His hand cupped around the back of Nike’s neck and pulled her closer before his lips pressed against hers in an unexpected form of affection. It didn’t even necessarily have to be sexual, did it? He was being thankful for what she had done, care that his own family had never really shown him. And maybe it wasn’t meant to go further than just the pressure of lips - maybe leaning towards passionate. Course, Philippos never did much half-assed. It was for the best that Philippos didn’t know that Nike was a woman… because the kiss might have been far more affectionate than the experienced caress he attempted in his drunken stupor.
If there was an award for surviving the longest against the odds, Philippos would be a shoe in. The man put himself in terrible situations and didn’t even handle them well. His humor wasn’t always well respected among the people of Colchis. He was different. He always had been. Sure, he had focused his life on fighting and being a good soldier, but there was just something different about the way he acted. Though, it did make him stand out and probably one of the reasons he had managed to make it this far. Despite his often drunkenness and his yearn for a new woman each week...or night, he was a good man with the best of intentions.
”I will never reveal my secrets.” His hand raised off the floor with a hand that opened and closed a few times in rapid succession begging for the help he needed to get off the floor. It had worked! Pos couldn’t help but adorn a sloppy smile as he heard the footsteps moving closer in the dark. Nike was going to save him again.
He tried his best to help with movement, but it actually wasn’t much. Instead, he was pushed, shoved, with the shuffles heard against the floor as his feet dragged along until they reached the final destination. It was a bed with some layers of fine wool. Philippos didn’t need to spend much of his income on anything extravagant, but he didn’t have a comfortable bed - it was where he spent most of his time when home. Sleeping and otherwise. Though, when he landed, he hadn’t expected for Nike to come down with him.
They were tangled on the cushy pallet in one of the most awkward positions considering who they were. Her hands pushed and pulled as he was jostled here and there. ”Ow.” Was his only rebuttal into the cool night air. It was a flat tone, she hadn’t really hurt him when the hands pressed into his chest and shoved him deep into his pillow. But, she was also not free. Not yet. As his legs held her close in some sort of revenge - or maybe it was being grateful.
Philippos had only had these types of urges from time to time in some sort of curiosity - especially when his mind was more open and free to different ideas when drunk. Maybe it was the darkness, maybe it was the help, maybe it was the alluring angular features of Nike’s face that he couldn’t explain. He was still in complete ignorance of the truth. And maybe it was the fact that he had been completely worked up to be shot down by the beautiful lass in the tavern. There were more reasons and many of them worse than the next as to why he somehow managed to wrap his hands around Nike’s wrists and pull her back down on top of him.
”Thank you for always looking out for me, Nik…” His words breathy and quiet, unlike the boisterous Pos she might have been used to. His hand cupped around the back of Nike’s neck and pulled her closer before his lips pressed against hers in an unexpected form of affection. It didn’t even necessarily have to be sexual, did it? He was being thankful for what she had done, care that his own family had never really shown him. And maybe it wasn’t meant to go further than just the pressure of lips - maybe leaning towards passionate. Course, Philippos never did much half-assed. It was for the best that Philippos didn’t know that Nike was a woman… because the kiss might have been far more affectionate than the experienced caress he attempted in his drunken stupor.
Sometimes she wondered what went on in a drunken person's mind. Did they not process logic properly? Or could they just not think in a sane manner? How did one end up head first in the harbor, or in a wrong woman's bed when one was deep in his cups? Nike had never gotten to that point of inebriation, for it would be at great risk to her secret, so she could not understand it was Philippos's legs seem to keep a tight hold of hers seemingly out of his misplaced frustrations? She already got his head on a pillow, she could leave now without fear her friend would accidentally drown himself.
Grumbling and muttering about men and their misplaced gratitude, the woman bent down to their tangled limbs, not noticing how close that placed both their faces. She was used to being at close quarters with men by now, having lived the past decade with them. Despite being chaste and having never even kissed in her life, Nike probably has seen more then most women her age had ever seen, ironically.
So when he murmured his breathy, quiet words, Nike perked a brow, but barely paid any attention. She chalked up his quiet nature for him finally giving in to the alcoholic properties of his drink, and in all honesty, she would give a relieved sigh if he did. He's caused enough damage for the evening while being drunk on his feet, Philippos falling to a slumber induced by ale would be a blessing at this point.
But no. The blundering fool absolutely refused to bless Nike, it seems.
She had frozen when he cupped his hands around Nike's neck. In her 28 years of life, Nike had only ever been cupped around the neck by someone who wished to throw her to the other end of the battlefield, and her first instinct would be to grab the other's neck as well, in an effort to not get thrown. But this was Philippos. He surely wouldn't wish her harm... so what was he on about?
By the time she realized, it was far too late. Too late, when his lips pressed against hers, offering Nike the most foreign sensation of a kiss that had her whole body tensing up. Did he know? Shit. Like a block of wood, her mind worked quickly to try and sift logic. But how could he have known? She had her own tent, she never wore anything lesser then a tunic and her leather vest, and her chest was perpetually bounded unless she was home in Midas alone behind her own locked doors. Plus, the fool was drunk. She had a fifty-fifty chance he wouldn't even remember this come morning, or so she hoped.
His lips were experienced, that was for sure. Nike felt a frisson that she had never felt before pass under her skin - but it would be detrimental to her if she let this continue. So she did the only thing she felt logical at the time. Reaching for the dagger in her boot, she pulled it out sheath and all, and knocked Philippos over the head as hard as she could with the pommel, hoping the solid gold pommel was enough to knock him out, before quickly extricating herself limbs and all, and fell on her bottom to the floor in her haste to get out of the bed she had fallen in with him. Breathless, her eyes remained wide as they fell on her friend's figure on the bed, hopeful in that he was out cold, so she could leave without having to explain her adverse reaction to his kissing her out of the blue.
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May 18, 2019 11:01:34 GMT
Posted In Nike, Save Me on May 18, 2019 11:01:34 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Sometimes she wondered what went on in a drunken person's mind. Did they not process logic properly? Or could they just not think in a sane manner? How did one end up head first in the harbor, or in a wrong woman's bed when one was deep in his cups? Nike had never gotten to that point of inebriation, for it would be at great risk to her secret, so she could not understand it was Philippos's legs seem to keep a tight hold of hers seemingly out of his misplaced frustrations? She already got his head on a pillow, she could leave now without fear her friend would accidentally drown himself.
Grumbling and muttering about men and their misplaced gratitude, the woman bent down to their tangled limbs, not noticing how close that placed both their faces. She was used to being at close quarters with men by now, having lived the past decade with them. Despite being chaste and having never even kissed in her life, Nike probably has seen more then most women her age had ever seen, ironically.
So when he murmured his breathy, quiet words, Nike perked a brow, but barely paid any attention. She chalked up his quiet nature for him finally giving in to the alcoholic properties of his drink, and in all honesty, she would give a relieved sigh if he did. He's caused enough damage for the evening while being drunk on his feet, Philippos falling to a slumber induced by ale would be a blessing at this point.
But no. The blundering fool absolutely refused to bless Nike, it seems.
She had frozen when he cupped his hands around Nike's neck. In her 28 years of life, Nike had only ever been cupped around the neck by someone who wished to throw her to the other end of the battlefield, and her first instinct would be to grab the other's neck as well, in an effort to not get thrown. But this was Philippos. He surely wouldn't wish her harm... so what was he on about?
By the time she realized, it was far too late. Too late, when his lips pressed against hers, offering Nike the most foreign sensation of a kiss that had her whole body tensing up. Did he know? Shit. Like a block of wood, her mind worked quickly to try and sift logic. But how could he have known? She had her own tent, she never wore anything lesser then a tunic and her leather vest, and her chest was perpetually bounded unless she was home in Midas alone behind her own locked doors. Plus, the fool was drunk. She had a fifty-fifty chance he wouldn't even remember this come morning, or so she hoped.
His lips were experienced, that was for sure. Nike felt a frisson that she had never felt before pass under her skin - but it would be detrimental to her if she let this continue. So she did the only thing she felt logical at the time. Reaching for the dagger in her boot, she pulled it out sheath and all, and knocked Philippos over the head as hard as she could with the pommel, hoping the solid gold pommel was enough to knock him out, before quickly extricating herself limbs and all, and fell on her bottom to the floor in her haste to get out of the bed she had fallen in with him. Breathless, her eyes remained wide as they fell on her friend's figure on the bed, hopeful in that he was out cold, so she could leave without having to explain her adverse reaction to his kissing her out of the blue.
Sometimes she wondered what went on in a drunken person's mind. Did they not process logic properly? Or could they just not think in a sane manner? How did one end up head first in the harbor, or in a wrong woman's bed when one was deep in his cups? Nike had never gotten to that point of inebriation, for it would be at great risk to her secret, so she could not understand it was Philippos's legs seem to keep a tight hold of hers seemingly out of his misplaced frustrations? She already got his head on a pillow, she could leave now without fear her friend would accidentally drown himself.
Grumbling and muttering about men and their misplaced gratitude, the woman bent down to their tangled limbs, not noticing how close that placed both their faces. She was used to being at close quarters with men by now, having lived the past decade with them. Despite being chaste and having never even kissed in her life, Nike probably has seen more then most women her age had ever seen, ironically.
So when he murmured his breathy, quiet words, Nike perked a brow, but barely paid any attention. She chalked up his quiet nature for him finally giving in to the alcoholic properties of his drink, and in all honesty, she would give a relieved sigh if he did. He's caused enough damage for the evening while being drunk on his feet, Philippos falling to a slumber induced by ale would be a blessing at this point.
But no. The blundering fool absolutely refused to bless Nike, it seems.
She had frozen when he cupped his hands around Nike's neck. In her 28 years of life, Nike had only ever been cupped around the neck by someone who wished to throw her to the other end of the battlefield, and her first instinct would be to grab the other's neck as well, in an effort to not get thrown. But this was Philippos. He surely wouldn't wish her harm... so what was he on about?
By the time she realized, it was far too late. Too late, when his lips pressed against hers, offering Nike the most foreign sensation of a kiss that had her whole body tensing up. Did he know? Shit. Like a block of wood, her mind worked quickly to try and sift logic. But how could he have known? She had her own tent, she never wore anything lesser then a tunic and her leather vest, and her chest was perpetually bounded unless she was home in Midas alone behind her own locked doors. Plus, the fool was drunk. She had a fifty-fifty chance he wouldn't even remember this come morning, or so she hoped.
His lips were experienced, that was for sure. Nike felt a frisson that she had never felt before pass under her skin - but it would be detrimental to her if she let this continue. So she did the only thing she felt logical at the time. Reaching for the dagger in her boot, she pulled it out sheath and all, and knocked Philippos over the head as hard as she could with the pommel, hoping the solid gold pommel was enough to knock him out, before quickly extricating herself limbs and all, and fell on her bottom to the floor in her haste to get out of the bed she had fallen in with him. Breathless, her eyes remained wide as they fell on her friend's figure on the bed, hopeful in that he was out cold, so she could leave without having to explain her adverse reaction to his kissing her out of the blue.
