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After the most traumatizing night he had ever had in his life, Sil moped around outside. He didn't want to be in the house or anywhere near Tim. However, patient, he had been after the incident, his brother was still somewhat rough or should he say scary. Sure they had made up, but the events that led up to it were particularly pleasant. There had been a lot of punch, screaming, and he swore his jaw was still swollen from their fight. Afterward, they went out for another few rounds of drinks. He didn't remember much after that, but he remembered enough to know that he was now in big trouble and that his life was on edge. Last night had been supposed to be a pleasant night, but his stupid brain mixed with alcohol decided to want to make him get killed. Alright, almost killed, same difference. Kicking at a pebble, Sil continued to walk down the dusty road. Thank the Gods that it had been dark and no one had been around to spectate or he would have had a lot of people come and jeer at him or even worse throw things at him.
Trotting around, he soon came across an open field not far by the central part of the city. There weren't plenty of people in there roaming about, so it was the perfect place to hide for the time being. Sil decided to go and visit it since there really wasn't much for him to do. He had decided to stay on the low end and keep in the shadows for a while. No more flirting for him... at least not for a few good days. No need to get into any more trouble for him or Timaeus. He had promised that much and was bound to keep that promise. He owned him that much since he had saved him from his terrible near-death experience.
Wandering deeper into the park, Sil suddenly heard a noise that sounded like a blade whistling through the air. He winced slightly, cringing at the noise. Great, was he now going to be forever traumatized by the sound of a sword? Ugh, he really had to forget about what had happened, well at least the killing part. At that thought, a pang of guilt formed in the pit of his stomach, making the young man feel bad all over again. It was his fault that that slave died. His bloody fault. Groaning, he stopped moving and slumped onto a stone bench nearby. Oh, how the guilt now swamped him big time. Not good, not good at all.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
After the most traumatizing night he had ever had in his life, Sil moped around outside. He didn't want to be in the house or anywhere near Tim. However, patient, he had been after the incident, his brother was still somewhat rough or should he say scary. Sure they had made up, but the events that led up to it were particularly pleasant. There had been a lot of punch, screaming, and he swore his jaw was still swollen from their fight. Afterward, they went out for another few rounds of drinks. He didn't remember much after that, but he remembered enough to know that he was now in big trouble and that his life was on edge. Last night had been supposed to be a pleasant night, but his stupid brain mixed with alcohol decided to want to make him get killed. Alright, almost killed, same difference. Kicking at a pebble, Sil continued to walk down the dusty road. Thank the Gods that it had been dark and no one had been around to spectate or he would have had a lot of people come and jeer at him or even worse throw things at him.
Trotting around, he soon came across an open field not far by the central part of the city. There weren't plenty of people in there roaming about, so it was the perfect place to hide for the time being. Sil decided to go and visit it since there really wasn't much for him to do. He had decided to stay on the low end and keep in the shadows for a while. No more flirting for him... at least not for a few good days. No need to get into any more trouble for him or Timaeus. He had promised that much and was bound to keep that promise. He owned him that much since he had saved him from his terrible near-death experience.
Wandering deeper into the park, Sil suddenly heard a noise that sounded like a blade whistling through the air. He winced slightly, cringing at the noise. Great, was he now going to be forever traumatized by the sound of a sword? Ugh, he really had to forget about what had happened, well at least the killing part. At that thought, a pang of guilt formed in the pit of his stomach, making the young man feel bad all over again. It was his fault that that slave died. His bloody fault. Groaning, he stopped moving and slumped onto a stone bench nearby. Oh, how the guilt now swamped him big time. Not good, not good at all.
After the most traumatizing night he had ever had in his life, Sil moped around outside. He didn't want to be in the house or anywhere near Tim. However, patient, he had been after the incident, his brother was still somewhat rough or should he say scary. Sure they had made up, but the events that led up to it were particularly pleasant. There had been a lot of punch, screaming, and he swore his jaw was still swollen from their fight. Afterward, they went out for another few rounds of drinks. He didn't remember much after that, but he remembered enough to know that he was now in big trouble and that his life was on edge. Last night had been supposed to be a pleasant night, but his stupid brain mixed with alcohol decided to want to make him get killed. Alright, almost killed, same difference. Kicking at a pebble, Sil continued to walk down the dusty road. Thank the Gods that it had been dark and no one had been around to spectate or he would have had a lot of people come and jeer at him or even worse throw things at him.
Trotting around, he soon came across an open field not far by the central part of the city. There weren't plenty of people in there roaming about, so it was the perfect place to hide for the time being. Sil decided to go and visit it since there really wasn't much for him to do. He had decided to stay on the low end and keep in the shadows for a while. No more flirting for him... at least not for a few good days. No need to get into any more trouble for him or Timaeus. He had promised that much and was bound to keep that promise. He owned him that much since he had saved him from his terrible near-death experience.
Wandering deeper into the park, Sil suddenly heard a noise that sounded like a blade whistling through the air. He winced slightly, cringing at the noise. Great, was he now going to be forever traumatized by the sound of a sword? Ugh, he really had to forget about what had happened, well at least the killing part. At that thought, a pang of guilt formed in the pit of his stomach, making the young man feel bad all over again. It was his fault that that slave died. His bloody fault. Groaning, he stopped moving and slumped onto a stone bench nearby. Oh, how the guilt now swamped him big time. Not good, not good at all.
For the first time in almost two months, Nike has finally had the chance to slip away. After ensuring herself that her general could stand on his own two feet and actually do something about defending himself again, his guard duty had eventually dissolved into its regular routine of one or two following him around when he was off Kotas grounds, and even then it wasn't Nike all the time. The commander was very staunch in her duties, protective as she was over her general and best friend... but she had her own things to do.
Namely get things straight with her claymore. She had procured the new weapon almost two and a half months ago during their voyage to Taengea, a heavy sword that had came from a place in the Faraway Lands and brought home by a traveling merchant. Caught by its heavier hold which would lend credit to Nike's atacks, it was akin to 'buying' some muscle - but she needed actual muscle gain to wield it properly as well.
So that afternoon found Nike wielding her heavy claymore in her hand in the middle of the field that led to the outskirts of Midas city. Grassy plains were rare in Colchis, a kingdom of rocky outcrops and mountainous regions. Despite eing Taengean by birth, Nike had spent her last sixteen years in Colchis, and was more used to the area then she would be in Taengea. Practicing with the claymore would require a wide space where people would not get hurt from her yet-to-be-controlled handling of her new weapon however, so she had grabbed her gelding and rode her way to the nearest grassy area she knew of.
Securing the sedate golden gelding to a nearby tree, the commander grinned as she pulled out the claymore from its sheath, feeling its weight in her hand. She had been getting used to the weight even if she had not been practicing, and could now lift it to a defensive position with two hands. Large and gleaming in the afternoon sun, it was sharp and bigger then the regular longsword she used and trained with. A simple hilt was crafted, wrapped in leather and ending with a round heavy knob, all adding on to the weight of the weapon that will give Nike more clout when she attacked.
Now if only she could wield it and still display the same speed, dexterity and accuracy that Nike was so famous for within the Red Knights regiment.
Leaving her longsword strapped to the saddle, the commander ran a hand through her growing hair (and reminded herself that she'll have to cut it soon to keep it short and at a male's style), the woman pulled off the leather vest she wore over her tunic and riding pants, before moving to the middle of the grassy plains. Hefting the weapon above her shoulder the woman went through the motions of her regular longsword, only to find it frustrating as her movements were definitely slower to compensate for the heavier weapon. Okay, how do I move faster.' her thoughts ran, as she lowered it, feeling a slight burn in her upper bicep. Her eyes studied the glinting blade, and then hefted it up again. This time, Nike forced her feet to moved at her usual speed as she wielded and attacked her imaginary opponent again.
And found herself tumbling over head first as the weight threw off her center of gravity - and the weapon flew out of her hand. "Watch it!" the warning was called out as her weapon flew towards the stone bench where a lone male was sitting. Her reflexes as quick as a cats, yet Nike could not gather her feet under her quick enough to lunge at the sword. A sigh of relief was breathed when her claymore skidded to a stop just a few feet away, and the commander quickly dusted her pants off, before jogging over to pick up the claymore, and then flickered her eyes to the young male.
For a brief second, she froze and narrowed her eyes. The boy was somewhat familiar - yet Nike could not place her finger on who he was. She followed Vangelis around to meet many of his vassals while he was in Colchis, and the commander suspected this was probably related to one of them. Noting the somewhat downtrodden, ill look though, her natural female instincts took over, and she couldn't resist asking, "Is everything alright with you, sir?"
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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For the first time in almost two months, Nike has finally had the chance to slip away. After ensuring herself that her general could stand on his own two feet and actually do something about defending himself again, his guard duty had eventually dissolved into its regular routine of one or two following him around when he was off Kotas grounds, and even then it wasn't Nike all the time. The commander was very staunch in her duties, protective as she was over her general and best friend... but she had her own things to do.
Namely get things straight with her claymore. She had procured the new weapon almost two and a half months ago during their voyage to Taengea, a heavy sword that had came from a place in the Faraway Lands and brought home by a traveling merchant. Caught by its heavier hold which would lend credit to Nike's atacks, it was akin to 'buying' some muscle - but she needed actual muscle gain to wield it properly as well.
So that afternoon found Nike wielding her heavy claymore in her hand in the middle of the field that led to the outskirts of Midas city. Grassy plains were rare in Colchis, a kingdom of rocky outcrops and mountainous regions. Despite eing Taengean by birth, Nike had spent her last sixteen years in Colchis, and was more used to the area then she would be in Taengea. Practicing with the claymore would require a wide space where people would not get hurt from her yet-to-be-controlled handling of her new weapon however, so she had grabbed her gelding and rode her way to the nearest grassy area she knew of.
Securing the sedate golden gelding to a nearby tree, the commander grinned as she pulled out the claymore from its sheath, feeling its weight in her hand. She had been getting used to the weight even if she had not been practicing, and could now lift it to a defensive position with two hands. Large and gleaming in the afternoon sun, it was sharp and bigger then the regular longsword she used and trained with. A simple hilt was crafted, wrapped in leather and ending with a round heavy knob, all adding on to the weight of the weapon that will give Nike more clout when she attacked.
Now if only she could wield it and still display the same speed, dexterity and accuracy that Nike was so famous for within the Red Knights regiment.
Leaving her longsword strapped to the saddle, the commander ran a hand through her growing hair (and reminded herself that she'll have to cut it soon to keep it short and at a male's style), the woman pulled off the leather vest she wore over her tunic and riding pants, before moving to the middle of the grassy plains. Hefting the weapon above her shoulder the woman went through the motions of her regular longsword, only to find it frustrating as her movements were definitely slower to compensate for the heavier weapon. Okay, how do I move faster.' her thoughts ran, as she lowered it, feeling a slight burn in her upper bicep. Her eyes studied the glinting blade, and then hefted it up again. This time, Nike forced her feet to moved at her usual speed as she wielded and attacked her imaginary opponent again.
And found herself tumbling over head first as the weight threw off her center of gravity - and the weapon flew out of her hand. "Watch it!" the warning was called out as her weapon flew towards the stone bench where a lone male was sitting. Her reflexes as quick as a cats, yet Nike could not gather her feet under her quick enough to lunge at the sword. A sigh of relief was breathed when her claymore skidded to a stop just a few feet away, and the commander quickly dusted her pants off, before jogging over to pick up the claymore, and then flickered her eyes to the young male.
For a brief second, she froze and narrowed her eyes. The boy was somewhat familiar - yet Nike could not place her finger on who he was. She followed Vangelis around to meet many of his vassals while he was in Colchis, and the commander suspected this was probably related to one of them. Noting the somewhat downtrodden, ill look though, her natural female instincts took over, and she couldn't resist asking, "Is everything alright with you, sir?"
For the first time in almost two months, Nike has finally had the chance to slip away. After ensuring herself that her general could stand on his own two feet and actually do something about defending himself again, his guard duty had eventually dissolved into its regular routine of one or two following him around when he was off Kotas grounds, and even then it wasn't Nike all the time. The commander was very staunch in her duties, protective as she was over her general and best friend... but she had her own things to do.
Namely get things straight with her claymore. She had procured the new weapon almost two and a half months ago during their voyage to Taengea, a heavy sword that had came from a place in the Faraway Lands and brought home by a traveling merchant. Caught by its heavier hold which would lend credit to Nike's atacks, it was akin to 'buying' some muscle - but she needed actual muscle gain to wield it properly as well.
So that afternoon found Nike wielding her heavy claymore in her hand in the middle of the field that led to the outskirts of Midas city. Grassy plains were rare in Colchis, a kingdom of rocky outcrops and mountainous regions. Despite eing Taengean by birth, Nike had spent her last sixteen years in Colchis, and was more used to the area then she would be in Taengea. Practicing with the claymore would require a wide space where people would not get hurt from her yet-to-be-controlled handling of her new weapon however, so she had grabbed her gelding and rode her way to the nearest grassy area she knew of.
Securing the sedate golden gelding to a nearby tree, the commander grinned as she pulled out the claymore from its sheath, feeling its weight in her hand. She had been getting used to the weight even if she had not been practicing, and could now lift it to a defensive position with two hands. Large and gleaming in the afternoon sun, it was sharp and bigger then the regular longsword she used and trained with. A simple hilt was crafted, wrapped in leather and ending with a round heavy knob, all adding on to the weight of the weapon that will give Nike more clout when she attacked.
Now if only she could wield it and still display the same speed, dexterity and accuracy that Nike was so famous for within the Red Knights regiment.
Leaving her longsword strapped to the saddle, the commander ran a hand through her growing hair (and reminded herself that she'll have to cut it soon to keep it short and at a male's style), the woman pulled off the leather vest she wore over her tunic and riding pants, before moving to the middle of the grassy plains. Hefting the weapon above her shoulder the woman went through the motions of her regular longsword, only to find it frustrating as her movements were definitely slower to compensate for the heavier weapon. Okay, how do I move faster.' her thoughts ran, as she lowered it, feeling a slight burn in her upper bicep. Her eyes studied the glinting blade, and then hefted it up again. This time, Nike forced her feet to moved at her usual speed as she wielded and attacked her imaginary opponent again.
And found herself tumbling over head first as the weight threw off her center of gravity - and the weapon flew out of her hand. "Watch it!" the warning was called out as her weapon flew towards the stone bench where a lone male was sitting. Her reflexes as quick as a cats, yet Nike could not gather her feet under her quick enough to lunge at the sword. A sigh of relief was breathed when her claymore skidded to a stop just a few feet away, and the commander quickly dusted her pants off, before jogging over to pick up the claymore, and then flickered her eyes to the young male.
For a brief second, she froze and narrowed her eyes. The boy was somewhat familiar - yet Nike could not place her finger on who he was. She followed Vangelis around to meet many of his vassals while he was in Colchis, and the commander suspected this was probably related to one of them. Noting the somewhat downtrodden, ill look though, her natural female instincts took over, and she couldn't resist asking, "Is everything alright with you, sir?"
Deep within his own thoughts, Sil didn't even see the sword or hear it coming towards him until he heard a voice yell out to him. With a start, his head jerked up, and he lurched away from the sword that landed a couple of feet away from his feet. His eyes went wide, and he paled as he whipped his head around to face the person who might have thrown it at him. Shaking slightly, he tilted his head to the side as if he was thinking about how to answer the young man's question to whether or not he was alright.
To tell the truth, Sil wasn't alright. In fact, he was currently in a slump and didn't know how to pull himself out of it. He still got a bloody hangover, and upon that, he didn't get enough sleep, so he was even more sluggish than usual. Heaving a deep sigh, the young man turned back to the other man and gave him a feeble shrug of his shoulders. "If I said that I was alright, I would be lying." He mumbled softly.
Not really caring of the other man was listening or not, Sil continued to talk, "I made a mistake yesterday, and I don't know how I am supposed to make up for it... or if I could make up for it. My brother is pissed at me as well as my lord. I know that apologizing won't possibly do any good, as of right now. But that's all I can do right now. I might as well admit that I do not know how to act my age. I do not know how to do anything without screwing it up." He scrubbed his face with his hand and let out another sigh. "I'm pathetic, aren't I?" He asked sheepishly, gazing at his current companion.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
Deep within his own thoughts, Sil didn't even see the sword or hear it coming towards him until he heard a voice yell out to him. With a start, his head jerked up, and he lurched away from the sword that landed a couple of feet away from his feet. His eyes went wide, and he paled as he whipped his head around to face the person who might have thrown it at him. Shaking slightly, he tilted his head to the side as if he was thinking about how to answer the young man's question to whether or not he was alright.
To tell the truth, Sil wasn't alright. In fact, he was currently in a slump and didn't know how to pull himself out of it. He still got a bloody hangover, and upon that, he didn't get enough sleep, so he was even more sluggish than usual. Heaving a deep sigh, the young man turned back to the other man and gave him a feeble shrug of his shoulders. "If I said that I was alright, I would be lying." He mumbled softly.
Not really caring of the other man was listening or not, Sil continued to talk, "I made a mistake yesterday, and I don't know how I am supposed to make up for it... or if I could make up for it. My brother is pissed at me as well as my lord. I know that apologizing won't possibly do any good, as of right now. But that's all I can do right now. I might as well admit that I do not know how to act my age. I do not know how to do anything without screwing it up." He scrubbed his face with his hand and let out another sigh. "I'm pathetic, aren't I?" He asked sheepishly, gazing at his current companion.
Deep within his own thoughts, Sil didn't even see the sword or hear it coming towards him until he heard a voice yell out to him. With a start, his head jerked up, and he lurched away from the sword that landed a couple of feet away from his feet. His eyes went wide, and he paled as he whipped his head around to face the person who might have thrown it at him. Shaking slightly, he tilted his head to the side as if he was thinking about how to answer the young man's question to whether or not he was alright.
To tell the truth, Sil wasn't alright. In fact, he was currently in a slump and didn't know how to pull himself out of it. He still got a bloody hangover, and upon that, he didn't get enough sleep, so he was even more sluggish than usual. Heaving a deep sigh, the young man turned back to the other man and gave him a feeble shrug of his shoulders. "If I said that I was alright, I would be lying." He mumbled softly.
Not really caring of the other man was listening or not, Sil continued to talk, "I made a mistake yesterday, and I don't know how I am supposed to make up for it... or if I could make up for it. My brother is pissed at me as well as my lord. I know that apologizing won't possibly do any good, as of right now. But that's all I can do right now. I might as well admit that I do not know how to act my age. I do not know how to do anything without screwing it up." He scrubbed his face with his hand and let out another sigh. "I'm pathetic, aren't I?" He asked sheepishly, gazing at his current companion.
Observant as usual, Nike was quick to notice the pale skin, wide-eyed look the younger one threw, and couldn't help the slight guilt that popped up as she drew closer. Bending down, the woman's fingers grasped around the hilt of the claymore and hefting it up again. "Sorry, I'm not too used to this thing yet, compared to the longsword's we usually use." she murmured in an apologetic tone, a wry smile that quickly disappeared when she caught the words in his soft mumble.
Raising a brow as the other continued, as if completely disregarding her presence, Nike blinked, words leaving her in a situation such as this. Not one who was brought up to know how to deal with emotions, yet when she looked down at the downtrodden way his posture slumped on the seat, an innate sense seemed to take over her.
Placing the claymore blade-side down on the grass, Nike met the other's gaze with a raised brow that was tempered with a small, wry smile as she took a seat next to him. Leaning on her knees, she laced her hands together, letting a brunette lock fall in her eyes as she turned to look at him. "Well... if I were, to be honest, I don't think any of us knows how to act our age, young man." Nike offered.
"You look contrite enough. Have you apologized to your brother then?" she asked, straightening up to lean back. "Apologizing may not do much good, but it is something that shows remorse. No sense in wallowing over what you did wrong." Nike tilted her head up, letting the warmth of the Posidaios sun hit her face. The brightness of it made her wry smile melt into a more genuine one. Turning to Silanos, she continued "We all have the same time in a day - it is up to you, if you want to waste it wallowing, or if you want to actively do something to show your brother and your lord that you are not about to repeat what you consider to be a mistake. What do you choose to do, then?" There was a hint of a challenge in her voice, her eyes flashing at the young man.
Nike tilted her head to glance over, made a motion at Silanos for him to wait. The woman got up, quickly jogged over to where her gelding was tied, rubbing the snout of the beast before she pulled the longsword she had strapped to the horse. Jogging back, she twisted it in her hands and held the longsword out at Silanos. "Nothing a good workout can't fix. You up for a round?"
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Observant as usual, Nike was quick to notice the pale skin, wide-eyed look the younger one threw, and couldn't help the slight guilt that popped up as she drew closer. Bending down, the woman's fingers grasped around the hilt of the claymore and hefting it up again. "Sorry, I'm not too used to this thing yet, compared to the longsword's we usually use." she murmured in an apologetic tone, a wry smile that quickly disappeared when she caught the words in his soft mumble.
Raising a brow as the other continued, as if completely disregarding her presence, Nike blinked, words leaving her in a situation such as this. Not one who was brought up to know how to deal with emotions, yet when she looked down at the downtrodden way his posture slumped on the seat, an innate sense seemed to take over her.
Placing the claymore blade-side down on the grass, Nike met the other's gaze with a raised brow that was tempered with a small, wry smile as she took a seat next to him. Leaning on her knees, she laced her hands together, letting a brunette lock fall in her eyes as she turned to look at him. "Well... if I were, to be honest, I don't think any of us knows how to act our age, young man." Nike offered.
"You look contrite enough. Have you apologized to your brother then?" she asked, straightening up to lean back. "Apologizing may not do much good, but it is something that shows remorse. No sense in wallowing over what you did wrong." Nike tilted her head up, letting the warmth of the Posidaios sun hit her face. The brightness of it made her wry smile melt into a more genuine one. Turning to Silanos, she continued "We all have the same time in a day - it is up to you, if you want to waste it wallowing, or if you want to actively do something to show your brother and your lord that you are not about to repeat what you consider to be a mistake. What do you choose to do, then?" There was a hint of a challenge in her voice, her eyes flashing at the young man.
Nike tilted her head to glance over, made a motion at Silanos for him to wait. The woman got up, quickly jogged over to where her gelding was tied, rubbing the snout of the beast before she pulled the longsword she had strapped to the horse. Jogging back, she twisted it in her hands and held the longsword out at Silanos. "Nothing a good workout can't fix. You up for a round?"
Observant as usual, Nike was quick to notice the pale skin, wide-eyed look the younger one threw, and couldn't help the slight guilt that popped up as she drew closer. Bending down, the woman's fingers grasped around the hilt of the claymore and hefting it up again. "Sorry, I'm not too used to this thing yet, compared to the longsword's we usually use." she murmured in an apologetic tone, a wry smile that quickly disappeared when she caught the words in his soft mumble.
Raising a brow as the other continued, as if completely disregarding her presence, Nike blinked, words leaving her in a situation such as this. Not one who was brought up to know how to deal with emotions, yet when she looked down at the downtrodden way his posture slumped on the seat, an innate sense seemed to take over her.
Placing the claymore blade-side down on the grass, Nike met the other's gaze with a raised brow that was tempered with a small, wry smile as she took a seat next to him. Leaning on her knees, she laced her hands together, letting a brunette lock fall in her eyes as she turned to look at him. "Well... if I were, to be honest, I don't think any of us knows how to act our age, young man." Nike offered.
"You look contrite enough. Have you apologized to your brother then?" she asked, straightening up to lean back. "Apologizing may not do much good, but it is something that shows remorse. No sense in wallowing over what you did wrong." Nike tilted her head up, letting the warmth of the Posidaios sun hit her face. The brightness of it made her wry smile melt into a more genuine one. Turning to Silanos, she continued "We all have the same time in a day - it is up to you, if you want to waste it wallowing, or if you want to actively do something to show your brother and your lord that you are not about to repeat what you consider to be a mistake. What do you choose to do, then?" There was a hint of a challenge in her voice, her eyes flashing at the young man.
Nike tilted her head to glance over, made a motion at Silanos for him to wait. The woman got up, quickly jogged over to where her gelding was tied, rubbing the snout of the beast before she pulled the longsword she had strapped to the horse. Jogging back, she twisted it in her hands and held the longsword out at Silanos. "Nothing a good workout can't fix. You up for a round?"
