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Legend of Lunaria Captain
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 Posted: Wed Jun 16, 2010 7:47 am
Attempting to protect a child, Bataar has leapt into battle. However, he’s about to get a reality check when it comes to his skills as a warrior…
SETTING:
A small side road, narrow and empty.
NOBLE:
Shizuka
The ice queen of the nobles. She seems to play the cold lieutenant role next to Tenjou and is utterly ruthless when dealing with the Legion. She stops at no lengths and is thorough with her work. Shizuka strongly believes in bringing forth a brighter future for Lunaria and its people. She also has a strong hatred towards the generals.
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Posted: Wed Jun 16, 2010 7:48 am
Silence permeated the air as the Mongolian man relaxed, sitting casually against a wall as he watched people trickle along down the street. There was something of an uneasiness to the day, a tension that demanded the attitude of alertness. His shoulders were tight with it, and his eyes had grown tired from searching. That was what had led him to this space in between two empty vending stalls, where he sat in silence, considering sleep. The sluggish pace of the day had sent Bataar into a sort of drowsy confusion, although he was called to attention the minute he heard footsteps; not just any footsteps, either, but more of a loud metal clanking that indicated heavy armor.
As the legionnaire came into view, Bat gazed upon him with distaste before averting his eyes, seeing no reason in particular to shout out an insult or anything of the kind. Certainly, there would have to be no reason, for what he didn’t know was that his morality would prevent him from peace. That was because there was a child playing on this godforsaken day; one that had conveniently dropped his toy just in front of the well-muscled man who’d been stomping along, his sword clanking dangerously at his side.
Bataar watched. After mumbling a quick apology, the child darted to pick up his toy, not realizing that up until this point he’d been ignored by the powerful legionnaire. The man was forced into a stumble of sorts, however, and at that moment each and every bit of his searing attention was placed on the small Lunarian. “Foolish child— trying to trip me up!” Every ounce of his voice held vehemence as he regarded the small, clearly innocent creature now on the ground before him, his hand half-closed over the toy. Before the Mongol watching had even realized just what was happening, the legionnaire’s metal-clad foot had descended on the toy, along with the child’s hand.
The little boy’s scream was agonizing to hear.
Hardly realizing what he was doing, Bataar stood and marched in the direction of the legionnaire and the child with an expression full of resolve. There were many things in this world he could watch with a passive expression, but not this. That was a child! ”Stop it.” he demanded, with feeling. He either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care that the man in front of him was extremely muscular, taller than himself, and equipped with a sword that could probably slice through bone with little resistance.
He only realized the part about the sword when the other man gave a little kick to the child, and the boy ran away. That was because the moment the young Lunarian was gone, the sword was removed from its sheath, gleaming dangerously in the afternoon sun. Bataar scrambled for his bow, and was trying to fit a threatening sort of arrow to it when the first blow struck. His own weapon was reduced to splinters, rendered useless. “Don’t presume to use such a weapon against myself and gain victory.” The legionnaire advised with a cruel chuckle.
Bataar wasn’t a man who was often left speechless, but that had done the trick. He stared blankly, barely dodging in time as the sword whistled through the air next to his ear. As big as the weapon was, this man was handling it as if it were an over-sized toothpick. It wasn’t very likely that the Mongol had much of a chance if he didn’t work on some method of escape right this very minute. He wasted the chance, however, and had soon grabbed an arrow from his quiver. Then, he did one of the most foolish things he’d ever done in his life.
He charged the man.
It is a peculiar situation indeed when one tries to strike for the neck with an arrow, only manages to graze it, and then finds that their chest has been sliced in the process. In trying to let loose a string of curses, the maroon Lunarian only succeeded in choking as blood welled up in his throat and he fell uselessly to the ground. If death was not yet eminent, then this man could make it so, with only a simple blow to the head. Bataar was merely waiting.
He was left to wait, however, because now the other man was cursing at him coldly, his voice filled with loathing. It wasn’t because of the scrape on his neck, either. “You! You have made me late for a meeting!” he hissed, leaving Bataar with a painful kick in the ribs(surely breaking a few) before… walking off. Clearly, he was convinced that the wound the Mongolian already had was a mortal one, and it was true that he wouldn’t stand a chance unless someone helped him.
He could not say yet for certain whether his protection of the hurt child had been the smartest move.
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Legend of Lunaria Captain
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Posted: Wed Jun 16, 2010 8:19 am
She had been watching.
Of course she was, this city was a restless place. Lunaria was a child – energetic and emotional. Most of the time it seemed innocent – sneaking candies and sweet syrups into its mouth – but sometimes, when it was starved for attention, it became angry. A tornado of sharp words, sadness, and rage would all come flooding out. It became like a neurotic dog – kicking and screaming and hollering as it struggled against anything and anyone that dared to come close. A child like that had to be watched strictly; it was one that couldn’t be trusted. Yet. Its parents had instilled in it all these principles, all these confusing and stupid ideals – the child was merely blinded by these ideas. It needed a new mentor. It needed a new set of eyes. And so she watched.
Her steps were soft, her pace easy – she slid through the market as if she was made of water; flowing and running and slipping right through one’s fingers. Shizuka sniffed slightly, tilting her head skywards. The scene around her was average and mundane – as it frequently was by day. No, Lunaria was a night owl, and the action was to be found when the sun had set. Still, she walked – it was too late and too early, all at once, to return home. Change came by night, underneath the howls of agony and with the river of blood that they had all washed their hands in. But, seldom as it was, change could by day as well. It was subtler, quieter – without the blunt directness of the nighttime wars, but it was change all the same. Lunaria would be won over with patience and finesse.
And then there was a scream.
The air turned stale as the sea – swirling and shuffling around her – held its breath. For a moment there was silence. Shizuka, however, was unfazed. How many screams had she endured? How many screams had she caused? Screaming was a sign of weakness – at least, a blood-curling shriek of this nature was. True warriors could hold in their howls. Nevertheless, curiousity piqued, she pivoted. The crowd breathed out. She turned into the mouth of the small alleyway. A soft hum, hushed murmurs and frantic whispers, returned – as everyone coughed and struggled to pretend nothing had happened. That everything was fine. Everything was normal. For Shizuka, everything was.
Clothed in shadows, she inched closer as a chaotic tsunami of events flooded out. A child ran – its pace sloppy and full of pain and fear, like an animal escaping the jaws of a predator. And then there were two men – Legion and Noble. Perhaps one’s allegiance was something not so easily read, but something about this situation just clicked in her mind. It mirrored the long nights of warring she thrived in - it was almost a nostalgic moment for the woman. But the battle itself was too fast for one to feel anything. Had she blinked, perhaps she would’ve missed it. She watched the Noble boy struggle and fall. She didn’t blink when he choked on his own blood, didn’t wince when the whole alleyway was filled with the sound of his ribs cracking, she just waited.
She was waiting for him to get up.
She watched him for a few moments. She watched the Legionnaire lumber off, watched the Noble lay on the ground – helpless and pathetic. Then, without making a sound, she walked – coolly and calmly – over to the injured Bataar.
“Get up.”
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Posted: Wed Jun 16, 2010 8:33 am
The pain, which he’d failed to feel in its full force before, was now excruciating. His chest had been sliced and he was bleeding profusely, and his ribs felt bruised and broken. Bat was almost sure he was going to die like this, in the middle of the street. It seemed somehow unfair that he should have been so totally annihilated in this manner, but now it felt more like a fact of life. No matter what the case, though, he just wasn’t ready to die. He wanted to struggle, and to hold onto his life. Bataar felt like he had so much more to do.
And then came the sound of the voice. A woman’s voice. He gazed up at Shizuka, uncomprehending. The uninformed Mongol did not know who she was, but she looked powerful and commanding of respect. He somehow realized that if she wanted him to get up, he had better do it or suffer the consequences. He placed one hand gingerly on his chest, as if in an attempt to hold it together(it would need many stitches) and slowly sat up first, his mouth expressively grim with pain as it curved downwards. Absently, he brushed a trickle of blood away from his mouth, being careful not to choke on the red liquid welling up in his throat. That was not a very good way to die.
”Who are you?” he finally asked, trying not to gasp for air as he painstakingly pulled himself to his feet. He had just discovered that the act of breathing was agonizing with his chest in the shape that it was. His ribs, cracked and bruised as they were, did not want to deal with the expansion of his lungs. Still, if Shizuka was willing to help him, then he was willing to remain upright at the very least.
The truth may have been that he was afraid if he didn’t stand she would kill him herself.
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Legend of Lunaria Captain
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Posted: Wed Jun 16, 2010 9:00 am
He stood up. How… interesting. Shizuka could not deny that even she was slightly impressed by this. Of course, she had expected no less of a Noble fighter, but still, you never knew. Too many boys thought they were men just because they could swing a sword and holler. No, a real man could stand, stand even when he was bleeding, bruised and broken. He had… potential. The woman rested her chin on a web of fingers. She breathed out softly. Now, the question was what to do with this brute. Oh, there was the obvious. She would have to stitch him up, mend him, but then what? He was like a stone, this boy. He only needed to be polished, and then he would be a shining jewel, ready to be harnessed properly against the enemy. Ah, yes, there was so much to be done – and hardly enough time. After all, she was a busy lady; it wasn’t like she could turn this kid into her lap dog. No, at most, she had time to fix him up and give him a push. But, by the goddess, it would be a mighty push.
She watched the boy’s chest heave, in and out and in and out, as she scanned his face for pain. He was holding it in, putting on a brave face. Good. That was important. The woman’s mouth opened slightly, and the words that followed were soft but sharp, “I am… your superior. I am also, as the situation may seem, your saviour.” Well, she was not his saviour, not his direct one anyways. That title should’ve accurately been thrust upon the doctor she kept close to her. However, he was hers, and, as far as was concerned, that made her Bataar’s saviour. Her eyes flashed towards the road’s entrance, watching shadows bob and sway towards her. Shizuka was no fool, of course. She walked alone, yes, but never completely. She always had aid following her – just in case.
Two men stepped in, their heads bowed and bodies shadowed. In a heartbeat they fluttered over to the lady’s side – waiting for her command.
“Fix him.”
She waved her hand slightly, the order being a dismissive one, as if, somehow, this was an ordinary event. However, as the two men took a step towards Bataar she stopped them. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and perhaps there was a flicker of amusement behind them.
“You. You will walk to them if you want to be saved.”
Life was an endless test.
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Posted: Wed Jun 16, 2010 9:28 am
Bataar frowned darkly as he observed the woman standing just before him, knowing that he was at her mercy. Her cold exterior hinted at a passion far beyond words within, and he knew that she would hardly let him off easy. Still, survival was the only point that mattered to the Mongolian man. He didn’t mind if she tortured him into saving himself, so long as he came out stronger in the end. What didn’t kill you just made you stronger, right? ”Why are you helping me?” he asked, honestly curious, as hurting as he was. It was a foolish question, given the situation, but he had to know.
Or so he thought.
He looked somehow relieved as the other men appeared, and was more than pleased to be in their care. Bataar didn’t feel so helped out, however, with Shizuka’s next words. He was expected to walk to them? The few feet they stood away now looked as if it would take an eternity to get there. The distance he would have easily trotted along just moments before now looked like torture. ”I…” he was fixing to object, although he quickly trailed off, his look of confusion turning into one of determination.
He stepped forward, holding his breath. This feat had been more painful than he’d ever expected, and he had to consciously stop himself from sending a pleading look in the woman’s direction. In a way, he understood that this was a test. All the same, this was complicated. Air filled his lungs as he forgot not to breathe, and he groaned in pain, stumbling, just barely remaining on his feet. This was as distressing a situation as he’d ever been in, and his struggle was probably making it clear.
Another step forward, and then it was over. Bataar was impressively close, but before he had realized just what was happening, he’d pitched forward, and the ground was racing towards his face, ready for impact. Luckily for him, he’d blacked out mid-fall. He would never know the pain of hitting the ground.
His life was in Shizuka’s hands.
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Legend of Lunaria Captain
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Posted: Wed Jun 16, 2010 10:08 am
“Good enough.”
Shizuka adjusted her sleeves, slightly. The woman sighed as she nodded towards her attendants. With a single jerk of their lady’s head, they sprang to life. Cases were cracked open, needles and ointments were laid out on the stone ground, and fingers flew across the slumped body. Shizuka could only frown; she sniffed as she sat herself down next to the bruised body. She leaned in over his face, careful not to interfere with the men’s work. He was strong enough, or so he appeared to be. Muscles bulged from his arms, and legs, but – based on what she had witnessed moments before – he was not so strong in the mind. His actions in the alley may have been touching; sweet even, but they were nothing more than a fool’s actions. Strategy! Art! This boy lacked all of it. The problem became how to get him to discover it. This boy – she didn’t even know his name – was just a bucket full of burdens and troubles.
“And what should we do with this wound, Miss?”
The stone had tore at Bataar’s forearm, leaving a nasty gash. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, the woman poked it – and watched Bataar’s face jerk slightly. It was not an expression of pain, but it was an expression, and it was enough to tell Shizuka it caused the boy pain. Fine, that was just fine, maybe even perfect.
“Disinfect it – but leave it open. He’ll have to deal with that one himself.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
❀ ❀ ❀
They had patched Bataar up hours ago. Of course, time would be the greatest medic, but Bataar was no longer hovering between life and death. How stupid, the woman mused, the boy was. Had the legionnaire not had a “meeting”, or had she not been wandering through the stalls, this youth would be dead. He would’ve been just another rotting corpse, a simple, unknown casualty of the war. It was unsettling, at the very least, to know that they were being released into this war with such empty heads. Of course, the Nobles needed support, and of course experience was required… But how could such sloppy hands bring about the magnificent change? She would not stand for that.
And so she, with the aid of her attendants, had carried Bataar away from that narrow road, and into an open field. They had laid his damaged body underneath a great, old tree, and Shizuka had dismissed the men (they merely retreated back into the shadows and cracks where no one bothered to look). She stood over the boy for some time now, waiting for him to wake up. But now the lady grew impatient. There was work to be done and, injured or not, he was wasting precious slips of time.
So she kicked him.
In the calf, of course, a hard little jolt to get his blood moving and mind racing once more.
“Get up.”
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Posted: Wed Jun 16, 2010 10:24 am
His mind was filled with a weak sort of haze as he remained in a state of unconsciousness, hovering just below the surface of sleep. Whatever bit of his mind that was functioning, was absolutely convinced that he’d died. This was the end, and the end was empty and dark and blank. There was no light here, nor were there any voices. He was alone in an echoing cavern, with the edges of pain still disturbing his soul. Bataar knew he was dead, was convinced that he had to be. Maybe the woman and her attendants had been a dream, or maybe they had just left him there, and that was why he could not sense his own breath. He was caught in a web of nightmares, one that he could not escape no matter how far he ran.
What he didn’t know was that the pain was agonizing; nearly too much for his physical faculties to really handle, although the patchwork Shizuka’s men had done was beginning to have its own positive effects. The only way one could tell was because the kick she gave him actually jolted his eyes open. His first instinct was to gasp, but he soon regretted it; his ribs were as broken as ever, and his stitched-up wound was still quite painful. The pain was overwhelming, and it took him a few moments to see past it. Shizuka was there.
”I’m alive?” he asked weakly, choking on the taste of his own stale blood, resisting spitting it out. He realized only after the fact that he’d asked a bit of a stupid question because he was, of course, quite alive. Dead men should never feel this sheer amount of pain, in his opinion. It was partially a relief simply because the thought of death in so empty and dark a place had been completely bleak.
Whatever the case, he supposed he must thank her and be on his way. ”I… thank you.” he muttered, standing, not realizing that Shizuka had plans for him. Walking still took a lot of effort, and the pain was dizzying, but on the whole he thought he was doing much better, mainly because he had ceased bleeding. The idea was to walk away from this, and afterwards maybe he could sleep his wounds off or something, if that was even possible. He would need a lot of time before healing completely or even healing to the point of being able to properly defend himself.
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Legend of Lunaria Captain
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Posted: Wed Jun 16, 2010 10:40 am
"You look like a salad - sliced, diced, and limp. Pathetic."
The woman smirked when the boy’s eyes snapped open. Good.
”Yes, you are quite alive. We patched you up as best we could in the alley, and you should be fine. Fine. Not great, not amazing, but yes, fine. You’ll do for now.” She glanced briefly at her nails. It was clear here, despite what any onlooker may have guessed, that she was in charge. And tit was just as clear hat he, no matter what his ego may tell him, was nothing more than a single leaf on a tree. Even worse, he was a fallen leaf – splintered and muddied and no longer attached to the firm trunk of the tree, and its cradle of support branches. Worse still, a leaf cannot rejoin the tree it has fallen from. Bataar, if one were to ask his company, only had one choice now – he had to become his own tree. Not just any tree, mind you, flimsy little twigs of trees were pathetic. And flowered bushes, though elegant and pretty, had to purpose in this forest. No, he had have to be tall, strong and sturdy. He would have to become a tree that could never be uprooted, yes. That would do nicely.
”Yes, you should be thankful,” she replied curtly, as she watched him stand. She wondered if this would be too much for him – he was, no doubt, still bleeding internally, and of course there was that arm of his with the open wound. She sniffed again, well, if he didn’t survive that was just too bad. If Bataar couldn’t survive one-on-one combat he was probably doomed against a mob of them. So, in that case, it was all the better to weed out the weak. Fine. So be it.
”You’re a Noble, no?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Sometimes, you just knew things, and Shizuka knew he was one of hers. ”You should be better,” Shizuka’s words were cold and static, she was not insulting him – intentionally – but stating the facts of the matter, ”I’ll make you better.” Or, well, she’d try.
”Fight the tree,” her arm extended to the towering pillar of bark that towered above them, ”and win.”
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Posted: Wed Jun 16, 2010 11:04 am
He didn’t really like to be compared to a salad, but he would certainly have to deal with it. Shizuka was his savior, and there was no real escaping that fact, as much as he may have wanted to. All that mattered to him at the moment was that he was apparently ‘fine.’ He didn’t feel fine, but he somehow doubted this woman was lying to him. As far as he knew, she had absolutely no reason to. Beyond that, if she wanted to harm him, it was clear that she probably would have already done so. This wasn’t a soft sort of woman at all—she was powerful, and she had power over Bataar, and she knew it, as irksome as it seemed to the Mongol.
She wasn’t the most polite woman, but then neither was he. ”…I am thankful.” he muttered, trying to convey it in some manner so that she might actually appreciate it. He knew it shouldn’t be so, but he was honestly slightly vexed at just how much she looked down on him. He knew full well that Shizuka probably was above him, but it was painful to deal with such treatment after he’d nearly been murdered by a particularly violent legionnaire. His situation was more than a little frustrating, and she definitely wasn’t helping!
”Yeah, I’m a Noble—“ Bat was cut off as Shizuka continued, and he simply stared at her, looking quite confused by her words. He needed to be better? The Mongolian man definitely didn’t understand what the upstanding Noble was getting at, and understood even less as she indicated that she wanted him to fight the tree. Needless to say, with his condition that was pretty much an impossibility. He clamped his lips together, looking irked. He understood she wanted him to kill the tree, but what was the use?
That was too much. ”I have no weapon. I have only my body, and unless you’re blind you can see that there will be no tree-fighting for me today.” he gestured to his gashed chest, his eyes serious. He didn’t need to knock himself out trying to please this lady.
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Legend of Lunaria Captain
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Posted: Wed Jun 16, 2010 11:34 am
Oh, but she was helping. She was helping him and, heck; she was helping all of Lunaria! She was saving Lunaria from itself, from its old ways that threatened to consume it and eat it whole. Yes, if anyone was helping, it was Shizuka. Perhaps not in the way a teacher at the Academy would, but Bataar wasn’t a schoolboy anymore. He was a fighter, fighting a real battle – not the sandbags and dummies they set up in the fields – and he had to wake up and face the reality of it all. And reality was Bataar wasn’t as strong as he thought he was. He a Noble, yes, and maybe he was even noble for trying to protect that kid, but he was still crap. She wouldn’t – or someone of her great compassion – always be there to pick the oaf up when he got himself knocked up. She wouldn’t be there, hovering over him, just waiting to stitch up his wounds and kiss his cuts. Who would want to do that? This battle was fro the strong, not the weak, and not the pathetic. It was time for Bataar to man up.
She was somewhat amused by him, somewhat. He had no idea who she was, and she had no idea what his name was. And yet, the power she had over this stranger. It was grand. He was hers to control, he owed it to her and – even if he hadn’t – she could’ve broken him all over again for being troublesome or stubborn. He probably didn’t see it, didn’t see just what she was capable of. Shizuka almost smiled at his naivety. She could kill him. Even if Bataar had been in perfect condition, he was sloppy and his technique was lacking. She was leaps and bounds ahead of him, and he didn’t even know it. Ha.
However, whatever amusement there had been inside the woman, vanished when Bataar opened his mouth. Her eyes became slits, flashing only the darkest glimmer of displeasure.
“Did I say you needed a weapon? Did I say this was an option?” A hand shot out from its sleeve, slapping Bataar before one could even blink. The sound of it – though the pain would be fleeting, unlike the rest of him – the sharp cackle, like a whip striking flesh, boomed through the field. It filled the sky, echoing loud and clear. Shizuka growled softly, she was not to be questioned. ”Is this how you treat a head of your allegiance? You have to nerve to doubt me? To go so far as a feeble, illiterate attempt to mock me? Know your place.”
She adjusted hr posture, straightening herself out, before continuing, ”You have a good pair of hands. Now, fight.”
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Posted: Wed Jun 16, 2010 11:54 am
To say that he was furious with this unknown woman might have been an understatement. He didn’t know her name, nor did he know her purpose in trying to make him better himself. In any case, he didn’t see the point in hurting himself in order to impress her. That was just disgusting—there was no passion in it. The Mongolian man required passion for each and every movement, especially shows of strength. He was not about to go up to a tree and punch it, only hurting himself. Even the thick-headed Lunarian saw a problem with that. Bataar wanted to be strong, but he didn’t want to do something foolish to make it there. Even if Shizuka could kill him, it was all just about useless.
What was the use in life, in any case, if he could not properly battle with such wounds? Bat was far from suicidal, but he was definitely frustrated. He needed a weapon to combat something like a tree. He might have stood a chance against that legionnaire earlier if only his weapon hadn’t been hacked to pieces! It was the ever-repeating story of how life wasn’t fair, but he didn’t think he was using that as his excuse. What mattered right now was that Shizuka was pissing him off beyond belief, and that he was not willing to deal with that.
He glared, his eyes flat. ”Just because you saved me doesn’t mean I owe you the pleasure of watching my pain.” he replied, his voice soft and controlled, full of anger. This was more torture than training, as it might have been evident to any bystander around. He didn’t care if she was head of the Nobles. It no longer mattered! He would use in own judgment in this situation, and if there was anything his head was telling him to do, it was to punch her straight in the face.
So he did.
Shizuka had, after all, told him to fight. She hadn’t mentioned what just then. Obviously, she had the ability to kick his a**, but he was not about to strut up to the tree and kick it.
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Legend of Lunaria Captain
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Posted: Wed Jun 16, 2010 12:24 pm
Shizuka was not used to being questioned, much less being defied. And that’s exactly why she never saw the punch coming. Later, she would be displeased with the result of this minor conflict. Even on the street, she was always ready to block a punch, but maybe, maybe, the general pathetic nature of Bataar had put her in a false sense of ease. And so, when his fist connected with the side of her face, her eyes betrayed her. They grew wide, no longer narrow, angry slits, but saucers wet with surprise. And when he had retracted his fist, Shizuka could only stand there for a moment or two. Her eyes regained their composure soon enough, and, for a moment, her fingers fluttered to her face – lightly dabbing the skin he had hit, huh. She inhaled, adjusting her posture, her expression, her everything – she was a peacock (or, to be more accurate, a peahen), attempting to regain her regal pride. But, try as she might, she could not control the twitching in the corners of her mouth, and then –
She laughed. It was an interesting laugh at best. One that was cold and stiff, as if it was not properly exercised. It was a rigid thing, little waves of laughter splashing – hesitant and slow – out of her lips. Only after a moment of inspection would one realize that she was laughing at Bataar.
”I stand corrected,” she paused, as if to let Bataar cling to that one, feeble strand of hope that she had a compliment for him, ”you do need a weapon – you punch like a baby.” Maybe a “girl” would’ve been the phrase that clicked with Bataar, but Shizuka was not about to say that. Bataar’s punch, she had considered it a slap. Oh, yes, it stung slightly, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. Or sure, it was strong enough to push and boss and bruise the little kids that sat about in the sand, or pupils at the Academy, but Bataar wasn’t in that league anymore. He had graduated out of the tiny tykes ring long ago; Bataar was playing with the big boys now. And it was time for him to be one of them – not just in size, but in strength as well.
”Your bow…” She murmured, thinking back to the smashing in the alleyway, ”It’s a worthless thing – then and now. But it’s stupid too. Especially for you. What do you think you’re doing? Running into battle, close combat, with a bow? Stupid.” She shook her head in disapproval, as one hand snaked its way around her belt, looking for something…
”Here. This is what you need.” She drew a blade, not a bow, not an arrow, but a jagged length of silver. It was curved slightly, like a snake, and the rounded edges were jagged and undeniably dangerous – like the jaws of a starved tiger. She held it out to him, showing no sign of pride, compassion or even pity. Her face was as blank and smooth as the sword itself.
”Try it out.”
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Posted: Wed Jun 16, 2010 12:54 pm
Bataar was quite proud of his fist, especially at the result it produced from Shizuka—at least at first. Her speechlessness filled him with an odd sort of pleasure, and he rubbed his chest gently, assessing the wounds he’d sustained in his earlier fight(or a**-whoopin’, however you want to put it). As far as he was concerned, this lady had more than just deserved that punch to the face, although it hadn’t been a very hard one. He was weaker than he usually was, but he at least thought he was decent at punching, and someone as used to getting punches as she might be might have to recognize that, right?
The last thing he was expecting was her laughter. He flat-out stared in confusion, having absolutely no understanding about his current predicament. Just who was this woman who had captured him, and why was she laughing? He had half-expected her to kill him, at the very least! And then came the insult. Bat stared, dumbfounded, although he was faintly appeased. Even if she called him weak, he did desire a weapon over all. He would need a good weapon, too, if he was to survive with such injuries as these.
He clamped his mouth shut as she insulted his father’s bow, and reflected silently that she was right. His bow was meant for the wide open plains of his home, for horseback. It was not something he could carry into the imperial city and have any success with it. ”I didn’t have anything else.” he mumbled, looking rather ashamed of his poor choice of weapon. It had been a gift from Odval, and all such gifts had to be regarded with respect, but Bat had never really gotten a chance to even use his bow. It had been a most pathetic weapon for such a muscular man.
The sword she pulled out was perfect. The Mongol took it, silently examining the shining metal in the sunlight. He held the hilt in both hands and slashed through the air, then trying with one hand. He could hack through just about anything with this weapon, and seeing as he was more of a fan of close combat it suited him quite well. Shizuka was no idiot, she had to know that much. ”This… It won’t break either, will it?” he asked absentmindedly, his confidence growing even as he hurt his chest in the process of swinging the sword about.
His bow had shattered in seconds, but this was bound to stay with him for as long as he chose.
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Legend of Lunaria Captain
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Posted: Wed Jun 16, 2010 1:10 pm
The story behind that bow probably would’ve gotten a round of “awww”s or a teary-eyed stare, should Bataar had cared to share it… with any other Lunarian. Shizuka couldn’t have cared less, really. Present from his beloved mother or not, Bataar should’ve had the common sense to get himself something else. Even a small dagger – even one stolen from a street rat, blunt and stubby – would’ve been better for the evening’s occasion. If Bataar had been smart, he would’ve put the bow in a nice case – maybe glass, maybe a box, heck, maybe even a roll of cloth, she didn’t care – and displayed it in his house (the woman had no way of knowing Bataar lived in a yurt, and not a grand mansion or even a small little shack). The bow could’ve then been passed down to his children or whatnot, or maybe just a nice, manly decoration, and the weapon the smart Bataar could’ve bought would’ve hung around his waist… And then maybe, just maybe, the legionnaire would’ve gotten the daylights punched out of him instead. Or, mind you, Bataar could’ve just carried two weapons around like any other sensible Lunarian.
”It held you back.” She stated bluntly, not one for little pats on the back or sweets to brighten the mood. However, just extending the sword seemed to do the trick for Bataar. He was elated, or something of that manner. And Shizuka almost felt proud to watch him swing it – albeit a bit clumsily at first. She had, in her brilliance, picked the perfect weapon for him. Now, she could see, he would be a proper asset to the Noble efforts.
”This certainly won’t break – I wouldn’t carry rubbish around with me.” Her sharp words were an odd form of consolation, hardly the nurturing words of a mother (then again, maybe this would be closer to the way Bataar had been raised, maybe) or someone with any compassion. But, why lie to the boy? And honestly, did he really think she – of all people – would carry the same shoddy stuff he did? Hell no. When she fought, she fought until the deed was done, and you couldn’t get that from a splintered bow.
”You’re technique is pathetic,” she said suddenly, no need to let him grow too confident, ”oh sure, you have some strength. But, really, you need to be more efficient, less sloppy, better. You need to be better if you want to be respected, or even live through this war.”
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