Day 068: Walking After Midnight
Summary: A group of Trikru meet by chance and get in some late-night training.
Date: 05 August 2016
Related: None
Afaye Britt Galle Khesu Luther Sage Sev 

Training Grounds - Tondc, Trikru
Behind the barracks, and in an open sprawl of bare dirty and patches of grass, are the training grounds. It is surrounded by tall trees, giving a sense of boundary to this area, as it is dedicated to the warriors of Clan Trikru. It is meant for a variety of tasks, from the various fighting rings for spars and weapons' training, to the archery targets of wood and hay. There are a few silos that store training weapons and other gear that is always expected to be returned after a session is over.
68 Days After Landing

Many questions roll through Afaye's head as she circles behind the barracks, ducking into the shadows of the tall building to avoid the notice of a group of warriors passing by. Training by night demonstrates a lack of wisdom; training by night after a hard day's work smacks entirely of masochism. Heaving a resigned sigh, the horsemaster brushes the rough wall of the barracks with her fingertips as she passes out from the protective embrace of its shadows and onto the training grounds.

The terrain looks deceptively flat and painted in shades of murky gray by the light of the moon. She pauses to dispose of her workbelt and its accompanying knife before navigating carefully over the well-worn turf. Ten steps away from the barracks, Afaye turns and places her hands on her hips to wait for her unlikely teacher.

Crunch. Chompchompchomp. Crunch. Chompchompchomp. Luther is easily heard before he's seen in the faded light, and he steps out from the shadows behind the Warrior's Barracks chewing on a carrot. "Long day. Didn't know if you'd make it." His teeth flash white in the moonlight, "So why do you figure you need to learn to hit people anyway? Too many men chasing you around, looking to see if the Horsemistress can ride?" That could have been incredibly dirty, but something about the Warrior's boyish grin disarms the dirty a little bit.

Afaye looks up at the sound, and her eyes narrow perceptibly as Luther strolls ever so nonchalantly into view. Is she looking him over? She might be, but at this distance it may be too dark to tell. Her response is a faint snort of amusement to acknowledge the perceived double-entendre. "I had doubts about myself, too, but here I am." She spreads out her arms in a gesture of accepting her fate, and her own pearly whites glint as she returns the grin in kind. "Men have not chased me for many years. I think I scare them."

The woman's expression falters a bit and sobers into a hardened glance up toward the sky. "No. If only that were my problem. Every day we grow closer to the Skaikru, and every day I trust them less…and I didn't trust them to begin with. I cannot control what we do as a people. I cannot even control ownership of our horses - my horses. I give blood, sweat, and life to them, but with one word that means naught. Perhaps this is my way of taking control of something. Do not be gentle with me. This isn't for play, Luther."

Luther's smile takes on another tone altogether at Afaye's response, and he nods sharply, "Good. A sensible approach to the unknown." And then he undoes any goodwill that might have gained by adding, "Learn how to hit it." Still, he advances toward one of the bare earth circles, gesturing her forward. As he walks, there's more Crunch-Chompchompchomp. "So. You're a hunter, and you know how to move when a horse kicks you. Do you know how to throw a punch if someone tries to take a horse? Or, with a rider's legs… how to kick?"

Rather than putting her off the training altogether, the short quip from Luther causes Afaye to bark out a brief but genuine laugh. She claps her hands together and bows her head to him briefly. "If a person is willing to stand still, I might be able to punch them. Or kick them in the teeth if they're close enough to me while I'm mounted. But—no. I understand, in theory, what it means to hit someone, but I have never done so. No memory in these muscles for that. So what do I learn first? Punching or kicking?"

Luther grins all the more broadly at the laughter. "Punching's easier. Kicking hits harder." He tucks the carrot into the corner of his mouth like the orangest stogie ever, trailing greens like upside down smoke, and spins a finger in a tight horizontal circle, "Spin 'round. Let's see what you're more built for." And get a chance to check out her rear. Obviously.

Khesu has come carrying his axe in hand with it's long handle and not very large head. It's a weapon used for chopping wood as much as it is for chopping skulls, and meant to be light enough to be fast, with a spike on the end for unexpected jabs. A bow with quiver hangs over his back by a strap that lays diagnally over his chest. A light bandage still covers his left eye and the left brow of his forehead. The swelling continues to diminish and bit by bit his face is looking less like it ran into a big rock. His one good dark eye notices the others already here as he begins to swing his ace around to loosen up his shoulders.

She knows. Oh, does Afaye know. Still, she merely purses her lips at Luther, and after a moment's pause does as instructed. With her hands on her hips, Afaye turns in a slow circle. "I'm built for riding, for hunting. You know this already, you dirty old man." The woman's gaze flicks upward unwillingly, drawn by the force of motion at the periphery of her vision, and she catches sight of Khesu straggling in from a long day of work. The faint swoosh of the axe causes her eyebrows to arch upward, and she raises her hands palm-outward in a semblance of surrender. "I don't think I can block that with my fists."

Sev decided to pop in mostly because he was making the rounds in the barracks, looking after the wounded. Which took up the majority of his day, working on, checking up, and generally making sure that there's nobody not in the healing house who needs to be looked after. But he has been trying to learn something that would vaguely be recognized as knowing as how to defend himself. So when he pokes his head out into the training area, he has a training sword with him. Might as well get a little pratice in with one of the training dummies while he's here. And make a spectacle of himself. Again.

"I'm not old." That, apparently, is the only part of Afaye's charge that he objects to as he watches Afaye turn, nodding his approval. Collecting the carrot-stogie from the corner of his mouth, he nods to Khesu, "You're looking better." Crunch-chompchompchomp goes the carrot, and then he looks back to Afaye, "Definitely built for finding something tasty and riding. Yes. I see that now." And then he can't keep the deadpan look, or chooses not to, and laughs lightly. "Kicking it is. Make use of the strength of your legs. And no, you don't block an axe. You dodge it or deflect it." Holding one hand out at about waist height, he pats the palm with his other hand, "Give us a kick, right here. Don't use your toes."

Long day of work … his ass. Very restless from lack of being active. Khesu eyes Luther and gives him plenty of room but Afaye with her sultry black skin is a good deal harder to pick out in the moonlight and the few torches. Her voice gives her away to help him identify her. An up nod to them both without saying anything. He gives them room and heads for one of the practice dummies himself with his axe. A few more swings and he changes the axe to his left to loosen up that shoulder as well in nice loose arcs. Sev is taken note of as that man too heads for the practice posts. Khesu rolls his head around on his shoulders until vertbre pop and when he's ready, he makes a sudden jab (rather than a swing) at the practice dummy.

<FS3> Khesu rolls Melee+finesse-2: Success. (7 3 6 1 2 1 2 4 4)

The axe's steel spike makes an audible hit but it's not nearly as solid and full on as Khesu would've liked. He scowls.

<FS3> Afaye rolls Melee: Failure. (3 6 2)

"Older than me," Afaye replies to Luther, still watching Khesu for a moment; the swing of the axe is nearly mesmerizing. She returns his nod of greeting, but when he turns away to approach the training dummies, her attention goes back to her teacher. The carrot is absolutely ridiculous, but the sight of it causes her stomach to let out a faint growl of protest. When had she last eaten? Whatever. She shakes it off by rolling her shoulders, and then watches as Luther holds up his hand and slaps his palm invitingly.

Afaye's eyes narrow once more. The location is obnoxiously high, and she is not known for being that flexible. "Not my toes," she repeats slowly, and a most ungainly manner she leans her weight onto her left foot and strikes upward with her right. The goal is to plant her booted heel against his palm, but she misjudges and merely whiffs. A light breeze might be felt trickling over Luther's hand. "Damn it."

Britt comes into the training area, eyes scanning around like she's looking for someone. They stop at Luther - apparently the target of her search. But since he's occupied with Afaye, she wanders over to perch on a tree stump where she can watch the practices. Khesu is noted, and then her eyes drift to Sev. Her eyebrows go up a little in surprised amusement there. But for now, she just kicks back and watches them all.

Sev holds the sword a little wonky. Not horribly, but the grip of someone who's only just learning. His stance needs work. As good a dancer as the old nomad might be, it's not something he's really applied to combat before. Hard to get those two lines across. The bow comes across much easier to him, but a bow doesn't do a whole lot of good when someone is right up and in one's face. He's learned that recently. But he looks at the wooden training dummy not too far off from Khesu, watching him do his thing before he looks back at his own. He doesn't rightly notice Britt for the moment, trying to remember the things she taught him, giving a jab of sorts at the dummy.

<FS3> Sev rolls Melee: Success. (4 1 7 1)

Luther watches Afaye's form closely. For science. Or training. Or something. He's got a reason, dang it. He nods at her attempt, "Good." He waits for a heartbeat as if expecting her to protest, and then flashes a grin, "No bad habits to correct." The carrot is tucked back into the corner of his mouth, and he gestures for her to hold out a hand herself. Through carrot-clenched teeth, he explains, "Kicking straight ahead isn't bad, but only for knees. Can't get high enough." He twists slightly so that his hips and shoulders are perpendicular to Afaye, then shifts his weight back to his left foot so that he can snap out his right heel toward Afaye's hand in a much-slowed-down motion. The side-kick means he doesn't have to strain to get so high. "Weight on your back foot, don't lock your knee, -snap-."

Sev may be completely unsure of what he's doing but he does manage to hit the target dummy. Enough of that and he'll start getting his muscles more used to it. Khesu looks annoyed. He takes another whack at the practice dummy, then pauses to pull off the bandage that is covering his left eye. He's careful about it because it's still tender and swollen around his brow, the flesh ugly where the bullet struck him. But once it's removed, he tries to blink. It's dark but there is moonlight and some torch light. His left hand he reaches up to very gently, carefully rub his left eye and blink again. Can he see anything with it or is that eye a loss? He grimaces, bears his teeth and takes another, fiercer whack at the practice dummy!

Ah, good, no humiliating laughter. Afaye clears her throat quietly and shuffles her feet in the dirt. "No bad habits? Are you flirting with me, Luther?" Her lips press together and she hums in amusement as she sticks her arm out - way out - with her palm facing him. She braces herself for the impact while watching him demonstrate in semi-slow-motion the proper way to kick higher than the knees. When his foot hits her palm, the sting causes her to yelp, and she shakes out her fingers while cursing him beneath her breath. "Okay, weight on my back foot and don't lock my knee. And kick—sideways." It all looks a little bizarre to her, but she seems game when she waves for Luther to forfeit his palm for a second try.

Galle kom Trikru has been watching at an innocuous distance for now, standing — and almost blending-in — with a gaggle of women in a range of ages who are watching the various warriors put on their show. They are quite a mix of ages — from the sixty-something Podakru woman to the teenage girl of seventeen. The latter has taken on a permanent tomato-colored blush because when you get this many idle women together, the level of dignified conversation drops expoentially. It is about this moment that they range in on the group practicing, and one of the thirty-somethings offers a crass, "You should not teach her how to kick you, Luther! Unless that is how you often find your niron."

Well, Sev did try to stab a stationary target. It was just asking to be hit. The form was…passable, at the very least. Unrefined, undisciplined, but at least he doesn't make a mockery of himself at this moment. He may actually look a little pleased with himself, a private smile from the usually ever so reserved nomad. "I can take a look at that if you need it." his monotone offers to Khesu, taking note of the man's eye. But it's like a checklist for him, nothing is memorized. Looking his hands, then his feet. Bending them slightly, one foot infront of the other, attempting to make his profile as narrow as possible. He tries to swing again. If the dummy didn't move once, it's probably not going to a second time either.

Britt is distracted from her amused observation of the practice by the arrival of Galle and the gaggle of womenfolk. She rises from her tree stump to go over and join them. "Trolling for patients?" she wonders idly.

"Flirting? Why would I do that?" Luther's smile spreads wide across his face with the question, even as he crunches up another length of the carrot, "Oh, right. Skilled, attractive woman." He shrugs a little helplessly, holding out his hand and then tapping it with the eaten end of the carrot, "Right here. I won't even move it." He totally will. "If you hit it, I'll even let you have the rest of the carrot. If you miss… I'll give you the stick." And he waggles his eyebrows, although the call from the peanut gallery causes Luther to look around behind him, searching out the source of the call… and preventing him from moving his hand as planned. He snorts laughter at the call, "Find? I thought nirons just came to people of their own accord? Do people actually have to seek them out?"

A niron? Stars, that is dirty talk, indeed. If Afaye could blush, she probably would; this kind of crass discussion is not exactly her cup of cider. Her nose wrinkles and she firms her lips together to prevent another smile. No need to feed into the byplay already charging ahead at full steam. Her attention shifts to what her body is doing as she shifts on her left foot and turns her side toward Luther. The woman lets out a loud "Hah!" as he assures her he will not move his hand, but she sends a silent prayer of gratitude upward when he distracted enough to allow her to attempt a second kick on her own.

Afaye waits until Luther is looking away before striking out with her right leg in a much higher kick, and she is rewarded with a satisfying smack as her heel collides with his palm. "Ahaha! Did you hear that?" She jumps up and does a little dance in a circle to celebrate her victory over an unmoving, distracted target.

Now -THAT- was a resounding whack of steel biting into wood! A nice great big chip flies out when the axe bites deep. Khesu yanks it out and turns his head to better see Sev. His baritone rumbles low, "<In Trigedasleng> I can sense light with it. But it has been too bright." He looks back at the practice dummy and squints a little at it, "<In Trigedasleng> I can /see/ it I think, but it's blurry." Yes, still irritated but maybe he's not lost his left eye after all. For that he bares his teeth ferally and rumbles, "<In Trigedasleng> The damn Mounon didn't get it." Aye, he's a touch caught up in his own discovery that Khesu's momentarily forgotten Luther teaching Afaye. He feels the edge of his axe and then eyes Sev, trying to get his left eye to focus. The bandage was dropped on the ground and he makes no move to reclaim it.

"Galle does not know how to have fun," the eldest of the gaggle reports to Britt when she comes near, her voice sly. "She would work herself to death if someone did not carefully extracate her from that dark little hut she works in." The women all join in gentle laughter and verbal jabs at Galle's expense. The woman must have been dealing with this for a long while now, as Galle hardly flutters an eyelash. She does offer Britt the faintest hint of a smile before she scoffs.

"I can have fun when I'm dead, Char… I am only here because you are a ruthless hag who hounded me since sun-up to take the day off." The Healer sounds moderately put out. She does cast a glance toward Luther, and she gives the man a scowl.

While Sev should be proud of the whack he puts on the dummy with his training sword, he momentarily distracted by the description that Khesu gives pretaining to his eye. It makes him lower his own weapon, and look at the wound. "Eyes can be sensitive to damage, they take longer to heal than other things. You need to give things like this time." He peers a little more, not trying to get in other man's way. "I do not see any greying or discoloration within the eye itself. I would simply suggest to be patient, it may take some time. I may have ha salve or tincture that you can put on the wound, however." The offer is put on the table then he goes back to his own dummy next to the one that Khesu is swinging at. Trying to remember how he was standing and holding his weapon, he goes to smack at the thing again.

<FS3> Sev rolls Melee: Success. (4 5 7 1)

"She does not know how to have fun so you take her to the training ground?" Britt is amused by this thought. "And here I thought it a place only warriors had fun. How little I knew." She does glance over to the others, though, still watching idly.

Luther yelps with rather more enthusiasm than need when Afaye's foot makes contact with his palm, shaking his hand out and scowling back at her, "I should have taught you how to punch." Despite the griping, there is a grin on his lips, and he holds out the carrot to the Horsemistress, "Carrot for now. Find me at the celebration tomorrow and I'll show you the stick." Luther is close enough to catch some of the conversation among the women, and he calls out, "She's hoping some of us take our shirts off." Waiting just long enough for indignation from the Healer, he adds, "So she can read our bones."

Khesu takes a long moment to very lightly feel the wound at his brow because he has not seen it in a mirror. Extremely tender flesh, but the bullet struck him above his dark brow and shifting his fingers around to the side he can gently feel where the bullet punched through his skull and out the side at an angle. How on earth it didn't blow the thin temporal artery there, who knows. He is a very, very lucky man. A slow deep breath and then he sighs and gives Sev a nod, "Aye, patience." He bends to scoop up the bandage but now it's dirty so, not going to put that back on. He stuffs it into his pants pocket and turns his head when he catches Afaye's outburst over her pleasure in striking Luther's hand.

Sage has decided it is time to get back to hitting things or something set her off where she was earlier. Either way she arrives with a long staff across her shoulders and her hair put into braids. One thing that shows is this only practice is the leather halter top that shows off not only scars and ink, but the line of kill marks. In the flicker of the torch like she pauses at finding so many out in the training grounds. A little shrug to herself and she is stepping into the light moving towards the pells. She notices Afaye and Luther and can't help but arch an eyebrow at the horse woman, a little grin starting to tug at her lips. She hasn't noticed the woman just yet.

Chortling gleefully, Afaye continues to dance - if one can call her enthusastic, rhythmless flailing a 'dance' - and snakes out a hand to snatch the proffered, half-eaten carrot. No concern for germs among the Trikru, for she pops the bitten end into her mouth and holds it in much the same cigar-like fashion. "The stick?" she inquires, eyebrows arching upward, but is left to imagine what this nefarious Stick might actually be.

A loud, satisfying crunch follows as Afaye bites off the end of the root vegetable, and she meanders slowly toward the women as if drawn into their orbit by the pull of gravity. "Bones cast good shadows in torchlight." Her gaze drifts away for a moment to locate the others still loitering near the dummies. Catching Khesu's glance in her direction, she lifts her free hand in a welcoming wave.

There's sigh from Sev, and while he should be proud of himself for seeming to keep hitting a target that doesn't move, he's more concerned for Khesu. Until finally, he puts his sword down, and sling his satchel that had been slung around from his back. "Let us get that redressed back again, yes?" he offers the larger man. "It will heal faster if you keep it covered." He doesn't bother picking up the old either. No good there. A fresh one will do. "You can get back to your hacking of the dummy in a moment. And watch me make a joke of myself, yes?"

Khesu is a stubborn man and Sev can surely see his protest coming, not wanting his eye covered again. But, he makes himself close his mouth without saying what he wanted and nods instead, "Aye." A few breathes to make him quieter, force down his impatience. As Sev goes to pulling out bandages, Khesu takes a knee his head is easier to reach. His baritone rumbles low, "You and I can spar. Go slow. For my eye, and for your learning."

Britt's attention is drawn from the gaggle of women over to Sage. She lifts a hand in a brief wave, then goes back to having her arms crossed as she stands there, watching.

After the predicted indignation, Galle replies with a terse, "All your bones tell me is that you were a careless child, Luther kom Trikru!" Then she casts Afaye a warmer smile before her eyes cut over to Britt. She interrupts the other women before they can reply, perhaps because she feels her answer will be more honest. "They are here to gawk. They take fun in watching the warriors… you are all marvels… scarred, tattooed, strong, and most often quite pleasing to look upon. So, we are here to be pleased." And if that isn't an innuendo, nothing is.

Sage stretches slowly as her attention is taken by the conversation between Sev and Khesu. The later is given a concerned look and an arched eyebrow in question to the pair but no words are offered. Another glance around and she raises a hand towards Britt and Galle before turning to start her own slow workout. A moment of stillness and then she moves with the staff becoming part of her arm. A sweep to the side and then a swirl and so the pattern goes, more of a dance turned deadly combat, if she was hitting anything but the pell. Soft thumps follow the next as she moves.

Britt smirks at Galle then. "Well, I suppose that's as good a reason as any. And points for honesty."

Luther drops his eyes down his body at Afaye's question, answering it silently. That stick. Her comment toward the women causes the Warrior not nod his agreement, his left hand dropping to the hilt of his sword so that he can twist it around, pushing up the scabbarded blade in front of him with a wobbling slide-whistle sound. In the shadows dancing around him from the torches and the moon above… it looks rather suggestive. Finally looking around to the others in the yard, he offers nods around, including an agreement with Galle's snapped words, "Indeed I was, and indeed we are… but really? With all these people around? You aren't worried about performance anxiety?" And then he looses the hilt of his sword, letting it sink down to its normal position at his hip.

"A fair trade, I think." Sev nods, shuffling through his pack, getting out one or two items. First is a thick greenish paste of some kind, that placed over the wound, but taking care not to put any of it near or around his eye. Now that he's getting a better, more close up look at Khesu's eye, he nod. "No discoloration or cloudiness. Your eye will heal, and your vision will return to you. It is a matter of giving it time. Some things require more time." A particular minty-smelling salve is placed over the past, and then a new bandaged is used to secue it all together, trying a different method of wrap that may not interfere with his sight so much. A glance over at Galle, and it's only then that he notices that Britt's here. A pause. "What about those of us who are not warriors?" WHich really, is him. Oh, and Afaye.

Khesu is getting pretty tired of bandages. Grumble, growl. He must abide it a while longer. And it doesn't help at all that /Galle/ is over there watching. As if he'd done something stupid and required it to be seen to by Sev. Ah! But Sev doesn't cover his left eye with the bandage so maybe he can try to see a little. Keep it shaded from bright light.

When that's done, Khesu moves to stand back to his full height, "Mochef." He slips the handle of his axe through the loops beneath his quiver and goes to find a long waster with which he could practice spar with Sev. As long as he doesn't get whacked in the head.

Britt snickers at Luther prancing around with his sword. Sev's remark gets an amused eyebrow lift. "Well why don't you take your shirt off and let them decide?" She then turns that amusement on Galle. See? She's totally here to help.

"You are merely extra good fortune," Galle says to Sev's thoughtful question, offering a slight wink to Britt at her words. She offers him the smallest quirk of a smile before her eyes slide back to Britt and now Sage. "My father was a warrior… he hungered for me to follow in his footsteps… and my houmon taught me how to use a sword… but I have never had the need to put those skills to use." Then she looks back to Luther, scowling. "As if your performance could impress anyone here."

"Tchah!" Afaye seems momentarily startled as Luther lifts his sword up, and—oh. Oh. Her response pure reflex - a swift punch to the arm that lands with a dull, meaty thud. It's a bit like beating a side of beef, and she sucks in her breath between her teeth. The hand goes behind her back where nobody can see as she shakes out the tingling pain. "Performance anxiety, my flat arse," she mutters beneath her breath. "If you preen any harder, Luther, you're going to end up strutting around the yard like the only rooster in a henhouse."

Slowly sidling out of Luther's reach, Afaye maneuvers closer to Britt and Galle as if perhaps taking shelter among the ladies. Surely even a bull knows better than to charge into this group.

Normally, Sev wouldn't fall for that kind of bait. Taking his shirt off? Please. He's not one to submit to the eyes of the womanfolk. However, there might be a reason in which he would find the offer(or challenge perhaps)just mildly tempting. And the fact that none of the other men here have elected to do so. So while Khesu goes and gets that wasted, he eyeballs Galle and then Britt with a steady, perhaps impassive eye. "Perhaps I shall." he remarks. And without further ado, the nomad does indeed slings off his satchel, setting it aside, and then his shirt. And hey, some guy who tends to live completely in the wilderness and occasionally has to go ruin-seeking? Not likehe's in horrible shape. He could be mistaken for a warrior ifpeople didn't know what he was. And hey! He's even got a couple of scars! And five kill marks! Then again, he's pushing forty and only has five, but hey. Might as well brag about what you've got. "Very well, Khesu, I am ready. I would prefer you not beat me down too much. I like my limbs where they currently are. But, ready when you are."

Sage let's the first dance end slowly, a last swirl that has her facing Galle and Britt. A soft release of breath and she walks towards the little gaggle though her attention more to Britt/Galle and Afaye as she heads over. Her voice is husky and deep as she offers to Galle, "But if you have the skill you could use it to help you relax. A swinging of the sword can do wonders for the body. If you'd like to practice sometime, please find me.." SHe offers to the Healer with a true smile as she reaches them. She turns to lean against the staff and let's her eyes flicker towards Sev and Khesu, watching with open curiosity.

Luther starts to point over to Afaye at Galle's scowling comment, only to get punched in his bared upper arm. He grunts at the impact, and then changes his mind to point at Khesu and Sage in turn, "Well, I wouldn't exactly call this the henhouse, and I'm scarcely the only rooster here. But you're right. I just didn't feel like bragging." Or not like bragging that much. And then Sev is taking his shirt off, and Luther rests his hands on his hips and laughs aloud, clearly amused.

"Fortunate that you've never had to use them, but good to have in a pinch," is Britt's opinion of Galle's sword skills. Afaye's comment gets a quiet chuckle. She's actually a little surprised/impressed that Sev took the challenge. Tilting her head toward Galle, she says, "Perhaps he'll start a trend." Eyes lighting on Sage, then, she asks, "How are you?"

"I will, Sage," Galle says, words quite earnest. She then nods in agreement with Britt's words. "There was once, during the last Ice War, where I almost needed to… but, I am glad that I had other warriors to handle the Azgeda." Her tone is icy when she mentions the clan. Her gaze searches the yard briefly, and does not find one of them near by. She flares her nostrils. Then she looks back to Sev, and she chortles slightly at Britt's words. "I'm sure that there are some who hope you would join in that trend, Britt." She starts to grin broadly at the warrior woman.

Piff, who needs a shirt in summer? Khesu never wears silly shirts in the heat. It's TOO HOT and humid. For those who are always out in it, he's used to it, but he saves his shirts for winter when he'll need them. Why stain them up with smelly sweat and wear them out when you don't need them? Phaw! He pays that banter no mind until Sev's half stripping. Besides, why cover your kill marks? So Khesu waits for the foolishness to subside and swings the waster a few times to get the balance of it. His gaze wanders to Sage briefly, then back to Afaye and Luther, and finally Galle and Britt. Sev gains a faint grunt out of him.

"You are all almost acting like Skaikru." Being silly. Khesu moves out a little ways to give him and Sev some room, "Come at me."

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Sev=Melee Vs Khesu=Dodge-2
< Sev: Failure (2 2 1 5) Khesu: Success (6 5 2 7 3 5 4)
< Net Result: Khesu wins - Marginal Victory

Sev can't help but shrug a little. "It's been years since anyone paid attention to me. Maybe I'd like to be reminded of what that was like. I'm not a young man like you are." True, the healer is pushing forty. He won't look decent forever. And maybe there's a look tossed toward a particular redhead's way, but he leave it at that. "Maybe I just didn't want to rip my shirt. I like that shirt." he offers, before he's given the oken to lunge forward at Khesu. It's something that can be telegraphed clearly and by the fact that he doesn't really hit anything, means that he missed. Doesn't let that keep him down, trying to remember what he was taught, to keep moving, circling the bigger man.

Sage dips her chin to Galle and the smile stays on her lips. "Healers are our life blood, we protect them, but it is foolish for us not to offer keeping skills sharp.." But then Britt speaks to her and she gives a little shrug, "Restless, the lack of sleep will catch up with me soon. But for now training will do. Oh I went to see my brother but he was sleeping. I'll pick at him later.." She flickers another smile and then glances around slowly her eyes lingering on Luther as Afaye has stopped that spar and then towards Khesu and Sev. Her eyes linger as they are both shirtless but then she turns back to Luther. "Luther are you just going to stand there and laugh at the shirtless or did you want to use that sword of yours?" She asks with her voice deadpan and an arched eyebrow.

Luther snorts again at Britt's suggestion, his laughter fading off into chuckles, although Galle's grinning comment threatens a resumption of full gales again. And then Khesu has to refer to the Skaikru, and he grunts heavily, his amusement trailing away. Sage's query causes him to grunt softly, nodding in agreement with her commentary on Healers before he shrugs, "Well I was going to stand and laugh, but," He stretches out his left leg, glances over to Galle, and then looks back to Sage, "I think my leg might actually manage."

Britt's expression mirrors Galle's when the Azgeda are mentioned. Then she smirks. "Well, I am not training," she points out mildly to the takl of joining in. Khesu gets a put-upon scowl. "We are acting nothing like the Skaikru." He might have offended her less by comparing her to the Azgeda. Sage's question to Luther causes Britt to glance over there. If it appears that he's at a break in his sparring with Afaye, she'll offer, "Oh, could I speak to you just for a moment before you do, Luther?"

Khesu is bigger, which gives him the advantage of reach, but his height also makes his center of gravity higher, which is a disadvantage. He's not as bulky in muscle as Wren however, and moves pretty fast and fluidly, not slow. He tries to keep both of his eyes on Sev's focus, peripherally keeping tabs on Sev's shoulders to broadcast what the rest of his body is doing without having to shift his gaze around much. The Trikru warrior barely moves - nothing flashy, no desire to waste his energy with a big leap and heavy breathing. Khesu simply turns his body and deflects Sev's waster with his own, "Keep your eyes on mine. You can see what my feet or my arms wish to do by watching my shoulders." His baritone is very low, keeping most of his attention on Sev. His ears and right side peripheral vision helps keep tabs on the others as he slowly circles to the side, "Again."

Britt's retort back makes Khesu grin.

Afaye's hands go up to plead innocence and surrender as Sage challenges Luther. "No reason to say no. I almost broke his hand and he decided my training for the night was done." A quiet laugh burbles up from between her lips and she lowers herself to a seating position on the ground beside Britt's stump. With her knees bent and her arms draped over them lazily, the horsemistress has a decent view of the entire layout of the training grounds. She watches quietly as Sev removes his shirt, and her mouth twitches. Khesu's comment does not go unnoticed, nor the reactions of those around her, but she chooses (probably wisely) to stay quiet.

Tilting her head back, Afaye stares a moment longer at the men before looking up to Galle. "I am glad they talked you into coming out for some air. The odds were high that Luther would break something of mine and I'd need you anyway."

Sev is not going to comment on the women taking off their shirts. Because that's a bridge too far for him. And while he may have some comment to say, he makes no comment about the Skaikru or the Azgeda. Doesn't seem to have much of an opinion on either one. Or he'sj ust keeping mum about it. Really, he's more interested in Khesu is saying, more than anything. And like listening to any other person who knows something more than he does on a subject, he listens and when told to come at him again, he does, moving inward to stake a swipe at the other.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Sev=Melee Vs Khesu=Dodge-2
< Sev: Failure (5 6 6 6) Khesu: Good Success (2 7 7 7 1 3 5)
< Net Result: Khesu wins - Solid Victory

Sage dips her chin in giving over the spar so Brittcan speak with Luther. But her smile is still in place as she turns her eyes towards the rest of the field. A slow stretch and she towards towards wonder towards Sev and Khesu, her eyes watching the pair move as she settles to lean against her staff and offers towards Sev, "He is bigger than you Sev watch his chest as it gives a tall to each way he is going to move. THe eyes are good but only if you do it at a distance.."

Sage gets a look, "Who's giving this lesson?" Khesu eyes her with his one good eye. Distant enough she'll not be able to tell if he's looking at her face or her boobs. He twists his mouth and there's Sev again closing in. This time Khesu does move, a step to Sev's left and his waster coming up from low to brush along Sev's waster to entangle it out of line as he then steps in close to mime his elbow into Sev's face - without contact.

When they disengage and he slips to circling once more, Khesu says low, "If your blade is fouled… you have other weapons. Your head, your elbows, the crossguard of your blade, the pommel, your knee or foot. Not just the sharp edged steel."

He stops and shows Sev how he's holding his waster - with one hand on the hilt and the other bracing it more on the pommel. "Watch." He can use the second hand to pivot the blade around much faster than actually /swinging/ it and without really telegraphing a thing through his shoulders, "Or," and he shifts the second hand to the guard and its still a leverage point to flip the length of steel around faster than the arms can swing it. Khesu then suddenly lundges at Sev!

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Khesu=melee Vs Sev=dodge
< Khesu: Great Success (5 3 7 4 3 3 7 5 7 8) Sev: Success (7 6 1 1)
< Net Result: Khesu wins - Solid Victory

Luther nods to Britt at her request, nodding an apology to Sage, "I'll be right with you." Afaye gets an amused snort, "Thanks for the excuse. Yes, my hand hurts. Badly." Deadpan, very, very deadpan. And then he snorts a little, "And I do not break those I'm teaching." Beat pause, "Usually." And then he turns away to look back to Britt, moving a few steps aside so that he doesn't get distracted by the jibes and jabs being tossed around.

Britt belatedly responds to Sage's remarks, "You should get more rest. Or I'll be sending Erson and Ashe after you next." Because it's her favorite pasttime, getting the siblings to give each other crap. Or something. Then she's stepping over with Luther. "Has Indra spoken with you, about Coesbur?" she wonders.

Galle's brow arches slightly when she glances over toward Khesu and Sev. Her attention lingers far longer than it should, and she also does not seem to care if it is an obvious leer. She murmurs something, and then looks back toward the others. Her brows arch slightly as Luther and Britt depart, but thens he falls into casual conversation with Sage and Afaye. "Afaye… you should have let Sage teach you… Luther turns it into a mating ritual."

Sage gives a slow shrug to Khesu, "Does not mean my words are not true…" She is amused, it can be heard in her voice. But her eyes watch the pair carefully as she has never seen either of them fight. A soft tsk sound comes from her lips but then her attention is taken by Britt and her eyes widen, "Don't you dare Britt kom Trikru!" She shudders at the thought of her sister trying to make her rest. By the Gods! But then once more her attention is drawn to Galle and Afaye and she chuckles softly, "Thank you for assuming my teaching is not Galle. But yes, I hope to start up morning open training once more. Anyone who wishes to come can learn at their own pace…"

"More than just the blade." Sev says more to himself for memory than anything else. Suddenly, he feels like a raw-boned Second, trying to learn something so completely foreign. He only has half the answer. He knows where to hit, where it'll hurt, but he just needs to get that far first. And it's not like he's trying to hurt Khesu either. Not the point. But he spent so much time listening to what to do, and how to do it, rather than just doing it himself. And before he realizes it, Khesu is coming at him, the end of waster at it's head. He tries the step out of the way rather than backward. Somewhere he can think he can hear Britt telling him backpeddaling is never a good idea, but he gets tagged all the same. Not horrible, but enough to pain the picture. But he's in close now with the other man. Close enough where he might get his own strike. He pulls the blade from around his side, pulling it in to target the other man's ribs.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Sev=Melee Vs Khesu=Dodge-2
< Sev: Success (5 8 1 1) Khesu: Failure (5 6 3 1 1 3 5)
< Net Result: Sev wins - Marginal Victory

The question from the archer causes Luther to blink in surprise, any lingering hint of a smile fading away, "No. She did not." He squares up his shoulders, "Should I be expecting a summons?," one hand drops to rub at his left thigh, wincing just a hint as he does, "I'm good to go whenever we're going to clear out Coesbur." From Reapers, apparently. He must not be up on the gossip.

"You mean he wishes he could turn it into a mating ritual," Afaye replies to Galle, offering her a smirk even as her attention remains upon Khesu and Sev. She doesn't get out often enough to watch the warriors at their training, so this is a treat for her. "He kicked my hand, I kicked his… I still can't see how this leads to a n—" Nope, she's not going to say it. Instead, she flutters her fingers in faint dismissal. "I wish I had the time to attend a morning training, but these late hours are about my only free ones. Someday, if I ever find a Second, I will feel comfortable enough to relinquish a little control." Hahaha, fat chance.

Hampered by his only having one good eye to really see well, and mindful he's not keen to get slugged in the left side of his head even by accident, Khesu's focused but being cautious. He's also trying not to exert himself because this is the first activity he's engaged in since he was shot up at the Mountain - and his stamina is shit, yet. Sev takes advantage of them being up close and instead backing off hard as expected, his side step and then closing in gets a look of surprise and then delight out of Khesu, "YES!" Sev's waster tags his ribs and his reply is almost a roar. His nostrels flare and baring his teeth, he slides to the side to give them a little space, "Good! Always close in when you can, not away. Someone's already been teaching you." Aye, he seems pleased with the action. Khesu's attention is mostly on Sev and not so much on the others - dividing his attention is likely to get his noggin rung.

"Ha!" Galle says, though she does not actually laugh. She does offer Afaye a wry grin. "You will just have Luther coming by, stealing your cherries, and tattling on your Second." She offers Afaye a wry grin before she looks back to Sev and Khesu's sparring session. She watches, head tilted again. "Mmph," she muses simply. "I would not mind a mating ritual from either of them." Those words certainly earn several gasps from the women hanging around, but Galle waves her hand dismissively.

Britt just smirks at Sage's protest - a don't make me then sort of challenge. A faint, satisfied smile touches her lips briefly when Sev manages to tag Khesu finally. But then she's growing more serious when she turns to Luther, "Perhaps. She is sending me to Coesbur to help lead Oxfor's warband. To prevent any repeats of the sort of insanity that led to half the band being up on the stake for taking the Skaikru's side over our own. She asked if there was anyone I wanted with me. I thought of you. You're a good warrior, and I know there's no love lost between you and the Skaikru. What do you say?"

Sage watches the sparring a little longer but then it is very nice eye candy. A small stretch as she gets her limbs working better and she can only give a soft chuckle at Galle's words, "Atleast I'm not the only one.." She shakes her head but still watches the pair, her eyes flickering to Britt and Luther from time to time but the shirtless have her attention. Even as she speaks to Galle and Afaye, "Then join the night practice. Though I teach move of moving without sight, it still would let your stretch your legs and learn more of what you want.."

Sev backs away a little, gathering himself. There's a small look of pride in himself for being able to get a marginal shot on a warrior when he himself is not one. "The tricky part appears to be not getting yourself skewered in the process. Like trying to burn a wound closed but knowing when to and when not to use a hote knife." Maybe that's a good analogy for him. But the action has made him bold, trading circles with the far more experienced man. The boost in confidence has put a bit more suredness in his step, and eventually, watching the others man's eyes, watching his shoulders move, the tries to get an idea how the next meet will go, trying to figure out the next three swings ahead of time. Eventually he moves inward, this time with a jab to the center of mass. Can't be hard to miss, right? Unless he moves, of course.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Sev=Melee Vs Khesu=Dodge-2
< Sev: Success (6 5 8 1) Khesu: Failure (5 1 3 5 1 2 2)
< Net Result: Sev wins - Marginal Victory

Afaye's attention drifts away from the fighters over toward Britt and Luther. From her seat on the ground, their conversation is too muffled to make out clearly. Giving it up for lost, she sighs and looks back to Khesu and Sev. "Mating rituals indeed." Her gaze lingers on the former for some several seconds before she realizes Sage is speaking to her. "Hmm? Oh, you have night sessions? I just might. I am only looking to learn some essential self-defense. I've no desire to take up a secondary role as a warrior, racking up the kills on my body. My work is too important to abandon. Still, it would pay to exercise." She laughs suddenly at a thought and tilts her head toward Galle. "I do not think all of their strength combined could save them if we were to hunt them, Galle. Ah, but they do look so sturdy and insurmountable when shirtless."

"Aye," Khesu rumbles but keeps moving. Sev can see how Khesu's favouring his left, trying not to let Sev come up on his bad side he can't see so well on, if at all. The Trikru warrior isn't making any more moves to come at Sev and beckons him, seemingly also making little offer to block or divert the thrust. He does twist his body so it doesn't jab him hard but it still skims his chest and he grins boldly in return, "Good! Not being afraid, -that- is most of your battle. You only need practice." Maybe lots of it, but one step at a time. Khesu lifts a hand to his bandage, his head aching from the activity but he looks a lot happier to be sparring than sitting around on his ass. He lifts his waster to salute the healer, "I should stop. I am not yet fit to go long."

Luther's surprise is a subtle thing when Britt mentions she is going to Coesbur in that sort of capacity, but it's there for other Trikru to see. Still, he nods, "Honored. They definitely need someone watching over them who isn't making grabby-hands at everything new and shiny." And then he grunts, "What does Oxfor think of this? I remember stories about him during the First Ice War. Very fierce."

"I've taken my share of violence." Sev nods, lowering his own waster. The evidence of his comment is by one of the larger scars on his upper chest from what was probably an Azgeda arrow. And the healer is more known for the bow than a sword. "I've grown old enough to know when one should move and one should hold back, though it does not tend to revolve around combat." Another nod. "Indeed, do not push yourself. But thank you all the same. Nice to know that I am not completely useless in such things. But I am more than quite aware that I will need a good deal of practice before I can even relyon myself for it." Then salute of his own weapon. "I would say a few more days from now your sight should fully return to your eye. The wound may take a little more to close, but from I can tell, it's doing very well in mending."

Britt gives a brisk nod of approval to Luther's agreement. "Good. I haven't heard much about the plans to rebuild, if it will be at the old place or a new one. I'm thinking perhaps a new, because it sounded like it would be closer to the Sky Ark camp. When I hear more, I will tell you. And I haven't spoken to Oxfor yet. I do not expect he'll be too thrilled." She frowns a bit there. "But yes, I'd heard the stories too. People change, though. Lose their way. Perhaps he will find the way back."

Luther nods at Britt's uncertainty as to the plans, but the mention of being closer to the Skaikru causes his lips to twist sourly, "Are we sure we can't just throw all of their teens in Lake Audo?" None of this 'Lake Arkadia nonsense from him, "They would be alright then." He nods again at the description of Oxfor, "And perhaps we can help." He glances to the gaggle of watching women, then back to Britt, "I'd like to stay for the Death," and the celebration too, of course, "but let me know when you want to leave, and I'll be ready."

Khesu makes a subtle negative movement of his head, "You are not useless. You are a man of wisdom." He at least has a great deal of respect for healers, having had need of them. He smiles, "I would need teaching and practice to set a broken bone." An incline of his head and the Trikru warrior moves to put up his waster. Khesu has not been ease dropping on the other conversations though he does hear a few words here or there out of context. A glance back shows him where the others are positioned and he catches Afaye watching himself. Khesu meets her eyes and raises his one good brow in silent question.

Britt snickers at Luther's suggestion. "If only." She nods, her expression darkening. "Oh, yes, we will not be missing that." She wants her turn, damn it. The celebration… whatever. "I will let you know." She then heads out, casting a brief glance over at the other sparring partners as she goes.

"Mm," is all Galle replies. Though then she offers a wry chuckle. "Speaking of work that you cannot escape…" She looks at the others, offering a glance past to Britt and Luther. She narrows her eyes curiously, but lets that go. She does have other things to tend to. "Sage, I may take you up on your offer. I could use some mindless release." Because, while she ogles, it isn't a secret that Galle isn't exactly finding herself a niron. She begins to step away. "I should see to the House now, though."

"I appreciate the compliment." Sev dips his head acknowledgement. "As are you. Few would take the time out of their day to get a healer time for a spar." But since it seems like everyone is heading out, so will he. "And now I will take a look at these bruises. If you'll all excuse me. Khesu, I'll return in a day or so to check on your eye. Make sure all is well." Grabbing his satchel and shirt, which he doesn't bother to pick up, he looks to make his exit as well. Probably to ask Britt if she wants to take a walk with him or something.

Sage turns her eyes back to Galle and she smiles slowly, "That I understand. Come find me when you have free time. I know Healers much have odd hours, so I'll be up for anything when you are.." She nods towards Afaye as well. "The training starts up again, two days after the gathering.." Her eyes flicker towards Britt as she moves to leave and then to the ending spar. There is a wrinkle of her nose and she stretches once more as she nods towards those leaving and moves to find someone.. or someone to hit.

It appears the group is slowly disbanding, and this is not entirely a bad thing. Afaye wobbles in a startled way as Khesu catches her watching him, and for a moment she lingers on the edge of uncertainty as to how to respond. Sitting on the ground after a long day of movement has left her sore and stiff, so she is slowly to rise up; it takes a long half-minute for her to unfold and jump to her feet. "And it's time that I check the horses and go to bed, myself," she murmurs, offering the others a slight wave of the hand as she separates from them and makes her way toward Khesu. Her head tilts in the general direction of the stables. "If you're headed that way, I can walk with you. Moving in the dark with one eye has to be difficult."

The waster put up, he gives Sev a parting nod. Khesu shifts his bow and quiver and checks his axe is where it belongs snug in it's straps before he moves to depart. Only Afaye's voice pauses him to look back, "Aye, but I manage. Would not mind to meet these horses of yours." He knows perfectly well she doesn't own them persay, but she's the one who knows them best. He tries not to mess with the bandage around his head, to leave it be. One last look back to the others and he walks out with Afaye to see the stables before he'll go find somewhere or another to bed himself down. No more confining healing house for him, thanks.

Luther nods once more to Britt, then makes his way back toward the group of women, "Right. I believe I promised someone some satisfaction…" His dark eyes sweep the group, a mischievous smile on his lips before he settles on Sage, "Or at least some practice." Galle turning to depart causes him to chuckle, "You're not even going to stay to patch me back up after Sage here takes me apart." He scoffs softly, "Some Healer you are," says the man whose gun-shot leg she saw to quite professionally not so long ago.

Galle waves her hand dismissively over her shoulder. "You know where to find me, Luther kom Trikru…" She casts him a slight smile over her shoulder, and then disappears back into the barracks.

Sage glances over and can't help a chuckle at the Healer and Warrior. But she slowly stretches once more before she wonders over towards Luther. "You so love to tease her Luther. I was going to go easy on you, but far be it for me not to send you into her loving care.." She winks as she steps back into a small clear space. Her eyes to flicker from him to the departing Khesu and Afaye. Her eyes are thoughtful a moment and then she turns her attention back to Luther.

Luther looks puzzled at Galle's words, "The walls? No, the stables…" He waves the Healer off, looking back to Sage and shrugging… perhaps a little uncomfortably, "Timore, her houmon, was a friend of mine. She deserves to smile now and then." And then the wit snaps back into his eyes and voice, "Which I manage to cause one time in ten or so." Eying her brief top (appreciatively, let it be known), he gathers up his own shirt, "Just to make things fair." Pulling the shirt free of his torso, he drapes it over a barrel of wasters, gathering up his now-scattered dreadlocks and twisting them together before he plucks out one of the wooden swords and moves back from the barrel, "I do like to let the woman feel like she has control in these things…" The cheeky grin is back full-force, "when you're ready."

The woman nods slowly, "I understand and we will all tease in our ways. But she is beautiful and needs to be reminded of that..' Sage is thoughtful for a moment and then offers in that blunt way of hers. "You were friends who her houmon, male talk, who better to bring her happiness than one who knows her?" But she leaves it alone and simply watches as he takes off his shirt. Like him she takes no shame in watching his body and even flickers a half smile. "It's hard to say you are letting them, when it's true.." She winks as she moves forward with her staff in hand.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Sage=melee Vs Luther=dodge
< Sage: Good Success (2 8 1 5 1 4 5 8 8 4 4) Luther: Good Success (7 8 7 6 3 1 4 4 4)
< Net Result: DRAW
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Luther=Melee Vs Sage=Dodge
< Luther: Good Success (4 7 6 1 6 3 5 6 5 5 8 5) Sage: Good Success (8 3 6 2 8 5 3 2 7)
< Net Result: Sage wins - Marginal Victory

"There are many beautiful women in Tondc, and many more in Polis and the villages. She is definitely one of them." Luther shakes his head a little, "And none of them were houmon to my friend." Well, except those who currently are houmon to his friends, or, like Galle, are surviving partners to his friends. This is not a peaceful society where many people die of old age, after all. And then Sage is coming forward, and Luther moves to meet her, laughing at her winking response and easily shifting topics, "We'll see if it…" he hisses in a breath as he parries a blow of her staff and it powers through to still smack into his left shoulder, stepping forward to whip his wooden blade overhead and into a descending slash at her own shoulder, only to have it batted aside, "…happens that way or not."

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Sage=melee Vs Luther=dodge
< Sage: Good Success (7 3 1 2 4 3 6 2 4 7 6) Luther: Good Success (1 2 1 6 8 4 6 5 7)
< Net Result: DRAW
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Luther=Melee Vs Sage=Dodge
< Luther: Good Success (2 7 5 6 1 5 3 4 5 6 5 7) Sage: Success (1 6 3 3 7 5 4 2 5)
< Net Result: Luther wins - Marginal Victory

Sage slides back on light feet as her staff comes up as if to block his swing, but it slips past his sword to score again on his shoulder. That leaves her open to take the harder blow on her shoulder that causes her to bounce back and swirl the staff into the other hand. "If we never slept with those who with our friends, most of us would be crazy by now.." She finishes as her eyes narrow and her staff moves to make a sweeping motion towards his bad leg in distraction as the other end sweeps up to try and score on his other hip.

Luther may not be quite as light on his feet as Sage is, but he is just as quick, he begins to circle her to his right, protecting his left leg… just in time to start back from the feint. It means his weight is on the wrong leg, and he can't pull back quite quickly enough, taking a glancing blow across his right quad that causes him to wince. "Oh, lovers, nirons… once it's over, they're all fair game." His waster swings down for her hand in the wake of her strike, looking to sting her knuckles or wrist, "Houmons are something else, to me."

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Sage=melee Vs Luther=dodge
< Sage: Good Success (4 1 1 6 4 1 7 2 3 3 7) Luther: Good Success (3 5 1 5 8 7 4 7 1)
< Net Result: Luther wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Luther=Melee Vs Sage=Dodge
< Luther: Great Success (6 3 8 7 3 5 8 7 4 3 1 4) Sage: Good Success (1 3 8 1 5 8 2 3 1)
< Net Result: Luther wins - Solid Victory

She has always been the silent type and maybe the conversation has thrown her off, or maybe it was her time in the mountain. Whatever the reason she seems to move into Luther's swing instead of away and his sword takes a hard strike against his wrist. Enough that her hand goes numb and she almost drops the staff as she takes to switch hands. The swing she used to switch hands goes wide and she has to take a step back to keep her balance. A soft frown comes to her lips but it is gone as she simply places her arm behind her back and keeps the staff in her left hand. She is more careful this time as she steps forward and sweeps the staff towards his shoulder once more. Now deadly silent.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Sage=melee Vs Luther=dodge
< Sage: Failure (1 3 2 2 6 5 6 4 6 6 2) Luther: Good Success (8 3 8 2 6 7 6 5 4)
< Net Result: Luther wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Luther=Melee Vs Sage=Dodge
< Luther: Good Success (4 6 3 5 5 2 1 3 7 6 7 3) Sage: Good Success (8 1 8 4 1 2 6 7 4)
< Net Result: Sage wins - Marginal Victory

Luther ducks back from the sweeping arch of the staff's tip, his arms going out to his sides as he allows the weapon to pass before him, whipping through the night air. The one-handed attack toward his shoulder is parried aside by the waster, point dropped toward the ground and hilt high over his left shoulder, and then Luther is spinning on his planted right foot, his dreadlocks rising high in the wake of the sudden motion, turning his back fully toward her for a heartbeat before he comes back around and his wooden sword licks out in a thrust toward her stomach. Sadly, the wide motion telegraphs the attack more than a little, leaving it easily-enough defended by someone of her skill.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Sage=melee Vs Luther=dodge
< Sage: Great Success (3 6 1 3 2 7 5 8 7 7 2) Luther: Good Success (7 5 4 6 6 7 6 8 2)
< Net Result: Sage wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Luther=Melee Vs Sage=Dodge
< Luther: Great Success (7 8 4 6 7 6 5 1 2 7 4 2) Sage: Success (8 5 6 4 6 1 5 2 5)
< Net Result: Luther wins - Solid Victory

Her hand is going to be smarting for a long time and it shows as she keeps her staff in one hand. She slides to the side and flickers the staff up to slide his sword out of the way after his grand movement. It is that movement that allows her to twist the staff once more and barrel it into his stomach (of course most of the hits are pulled) but this leaves her wide open as her right hand does not move to take the staff as if normally once in such a move.

After the parried thrust, even if it came short of a true lunge, Luther is too extended to fully dodge the staff-blow to the stomach, driving him back with a suppressed 'oof' even as he flicks his waster down at her waist, aiming to strike just above the line of her pants with a inwardly-curving slash. Still, he cannot follow it up quite as readily as he would want to, as the staggering steps backward cause him to grimace and put a hand on his thigh. Immediately, he starts waving off any further exchanges, "I think that's all I can handle tonight, Sage. My apologies. I'll have to make sure I'm in better shape next time, to ensure that you get the satisfaction of a full match, not premature withdrawal." Nope, not flirting at all.

Someone who flirts so much normally will not follow through with it. Sage tests this as she steps back as well and plants her staff in the ground. This is leaned against as she narrows her eyes at Luther and then brings her bruised wrist in front of her and looks at him once more. "I believe I will take you up on that. But since you are having to withdraw at such a time. Then you should kiss it and make it better.." She offers up her arm where he can see the bruise already started on her overly pale skin and arches an eyebrow over those pale silver eyes in challenge.

Luther does not shy away from the challenge, tucking the waster under his left arm and taking a limping step closer. He reaches out to take her hand with one of his own, grimacing a little as his staff-battered stomach twinges when he bends over her wrist to press a slow, warm kiss to the purpling skin above her pulse. "Least I can do, even if I'm not a Healer."

Sage does not act surprised but she does give him a soft warm chuckle for his actions. "Well, thank you Luther. It does feel a little better.." She tilts her head to the side and watches him for a long moment and then shakes her head, "I'd offer to kiss and make it better as well. But I believe the public is not ready to see such things.." She teases but her eyes are slightly concerned, "But you should rest that leg as much as it might seem action will not call us, I would hate to be a reason that you were to worn out to answer the call.." Wait.. well maybe.

"Yes," Luther rubs the bruise starting to form at the left side of his abdomen, "I think getting your lips that close might be taken as… unbecoming in public." And then he turns to present his shoulder where she struck him instead, pointing out the spot, "Right there." The concern for his leg causes him to shake his head, one dreadlock falling across his face as he does, "My leg will heal fine, and I will always be ready to answer the call. It's just a matter of time and whether or not I actually rest like the Healers tell me to." Which means, it'll be a longer matter of time than it should be, because he won't rest like they tell him to.

The warrior steps up and places her warm lips on his shoulder and gives it a gentle but lingering kiss. Pretty much the same as he had placed on her wrist. This close the scent of leather is mixed with the telltell signs of soap with flowers. So yes, she has a thing for being clean and the rare soap is one of her more known and unknown quirks. Sage then steps back and shakes her head at him. "Which means, Sev and Galle are going to yell at you. Somehow I think you enjoy that. But thank you for the small workout. Clearly is has been to long for me and I need to get back to the daily patrice.."

Luther's eyebrows rise slightly at the press of lips to his shoulder, but he nods. Turnabout is fair play, after all. At her words, however, he chuckles, "And Marta and Arlin. Don't forget them." Evidently, he intends to infuriate all of the Healers. Or at least joke about it. He does, however, wave off the thanks, "Happy to help. Thank you too. I hate to think what a terror you'll be after you're back in form after your incarceration. But… I should get my beauty sleep. So I figure you'll be up for hours yet." One dark eye closes in a wink, and then Luther is stepping back toward the weapon barrel to slip the waster back into it.

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