[Darkblade Fortress] A glimpse through the veil (Steve)

[Cyrus Marius]

TS: End of the first brightening of the third cycle of Cryxatium, in the season of Summer, Era XIV PF

A lone candle illuminated the small, spartan quarters that had been appropriated by the figure that now hunched over the small desk in the room. A suit of barbed Hoplite-style plate armor rested on an armor rack in the corner, gleaming with polish and obviously well-cared for, and beside it rested a second rack with two long infantry spears, tipped with narrow, pointed steel heads atop wooden hafts carved of solid ash, as well as a standard, Imperial-style longsword, it's sheath and metalwork chastened with crimson, denoting it's wearer's rank as an officer. Aside from these tools of war, little else decorated the spare abode; an unlit brazier in the corner provided little heat and light next to the collection of straw and blankets that constituted a bed, a small, cracked wooden chest contained the man's personal effects and clothing, and the small chair and desk which he now occupied completed the room's meager furnishings.

Cyrus, however, felt the room suited his needs. He could have chosen to remain in the barracks with his men, and often did spend the majority of his time amongst them, however certain customs must be maintained as well, and officers required seperate boarding from the enlisted men. One would not follow the orders of an officer one was too close to or had lost the respect and even fear that comes from the badge on his collar. Cyrus remained as close to the men as was prudent for a commanding officer, sharing every risk and experiance with the lowliest infantry grunt and often going beyond what was expected, and they loved him for it. But there was a time to be a commander as well, and so now Cyrus sat beside a flickering, sputtering candle, ignoring the candlemarks that melted away as he turned page after page of the imposing tome he was reading.

The young legionnaire was going over the recorded logs of the previous commanders of the Manjet Legion, the records of the state of the Legion before and during the fated Narim campaign. The Imperial defeat had been staggering, due in large part to the arcane assistance of outside forces, and now Cyrus went back through all that he could to try and arm himself for the future. His lone cobalt eye flew over the spider-fine handwriting on the pages below, absorbing all pertinent information and history that his mind could. Cyrus was so absorbed by his study that he didn't see a second book, a red-bound volume on Orcish seige tactics, mysteriously slide from the pile of tomes before him and land on the desk beside the others.

Suddenly however, the soldier heard a strange rattle behind him, and he turned in his seat just in time to see one of the tall spears that rested in the racks fall forward as if pushed, landing against the stone floor with a resounding crack. Cyrus' eyebrow rose, and a chill went down his spine. He was alone in the small room; Pandora busying herself by roaming Darkblade's vast halls and labyrinthine corridors in search of food, and it was not the first time he had seen or heard strange things when inside the fortress. The servants and the workers often spoke of hauntings and curses, but if one paid heed to every tale told by a gossiping washer-woman, one would go mad. Yet, was there something to the rumors and whispers of Darkblade Fortress? Did something haunt these stone halls, longing for someone to answer it's call from the other side?

Cyrus rose slowly from his seat and made his way to the fallen spear, his lone sapphire eye wide and looking around in suspicion as he knelt to retrieve the weapon and once again propped it up in it's rack. The soldier continued to look around for a moment, a sudden chill causing him to shiver slightly, and the hair on his arms and neck began to rise from some unseen tension or energy in the room. The legionnaire's left hand fell to the familiar pommel of Karvaaka that still rested at his hip at this hour of the darkening, and his cobalt eye continued to scan the room, searching for anything that sought to appear to or communicate with him.

[Steve]

Cyrus rose slowly from his seat and made his way to the fallen spear. He knelt to retrieve the weapon and once again propped it up in it's rack. The soldier continued to look around for a moment, a sudden chill causing him to shiver slightly, and the hair on his arms and neck began to rise from some unseen tension or energy in the room. The legionnaire's left hand fell to the familiar pommel of Karvaaka that still rested at his hip at this hour of the darkening, and his cobalt eye continued to scan the room, searching for anything that sought to appear to or communicate with him.

He saw nothing until when his eyes once again rested on the rack of spears. A spear fell from the rack again. It appeared to have been pushed. Then in the same manner, another spear fell, then another and yet another. In just a few moments the rack was empty and spears were strewn on the floor before Cyrus. As he looked at the weapons, the spears returned to the rack one at a time, except for the last spear.

That last spear rose from the floor in font of Cyrus. It was pointed at the Legionnaire, the tip being about one meter from his chest.

Then a voice said, "Big Nob move into my room and never asked if he could. Big Nob in big trouble. Big Nob going to get hurt." By now Cyrus saw that the comments were coming from a Gnome who was standing atop the spear rack. The Gnome was about 8 inches tall. The Spear remained suspended before Cyrus.

[Cyrus Marius]

Karvaaka was free of her sheath the moment the spears started flying, an instinctual move by the young legionnaire in the face of danger or the unknown. The eldritch illumination eminating from within the crystalline steel blade illuminated the room brighter than the single, sputtering candle flame, and Cyrus watched in silence as the fallen spears suddenly, impossibly, began to rise of their own accord and return to their rack. The soldier's cobalt eye blinked for a moment, and he edged around the small room slightly, so that he was better facing the rack as the last spear returned to place.

This would prove to be an unwise move however, as suddenly the last spear lowered it's steel tip and pointed itself directly at Cyrus' chest. The legionnaire's eyebrows shot up and Karvaaka's tip flicked in the air, ready to meet the weapon, but it only remained poised in the air before him. The soldier was in a defensive position, unsure of how to proceed against an unseen foe, his every sense working over time to make some sense of what was occuring in his chambers. Suddenly however, a voice called out from atop the spear rack, and Cyrus' sapphire gaze flew to the diminutive figure of a gnome that stood amongst the standing spears.

The soldier's mouth almost went slack with surprise, and a laugh immediately threatened to burst from his throat. The creature was laughably small, a bloody gnome of all things, and here Cyrus was tensed and ready for a demon to burst from his chest. Though at any other time the legionnaire would've been laughing long and loud at the creature's threats, there was nothing funny about the spear that was still pointed at him. None the less, a smirk crossed Cyrus' visage, and he relaxed his posture somewhat. His longsword's blade gently tapped the tip of the spear, the ardentium and crystal blend chiming against the steel with a unqiue ringing sound, and he grinned at the small, angry little gnome.

"Are you the one thats been knocking objects over?" The legionnaire asked, direct and to the point as always. "Who are you, that this is your room?"

The "Big Nob's" sword remained between him and the spear, simply as a precautionary measure, but the legionnaire earnestly meant what he asked. It was not every day that one met such a ferocious spectre, after all.

[Steve]

The smirk crossed Cyrus' visage, and he relaxed his posture somewhat. His longsword's blade gently tapped the tip of the spear, the ardentium and crystal blend chiming against the steel with a unqiue ringing sound, and he grinned at the small, angry little Gnome. Then the Legionnaire asked, "Who are you, that this is your room?"

The little Gnome responded with a smirk of his own and replied, "Me the one who got here before Big Nob, so this my place". That said, the spearhead glowed and illuminated the room brighter than the crystalline steel blade of Cyrus. During the brief moment it took Cyrus' eye to adjust to the brighter light, he felt a blow to the side of nose. The Legionnaire had been swatted by the spearhead. His nose hurt but there was no lasting injury. It only took a brief instant for Cyrus to compose himself but when he did, he saw before him the Gnome who was now as tall as the Legionnaire. The Gnome was holding the spear. Cyrus' adversary backed a step and said, "Now we going to see who gets the room."

The spear was pointed at the Legionnaire's chest. The spearhead was still glowing bright but the intensity was not distracting.

[Cyrus Marius]

The soldier's lone sapphire-colored orb narrowed only slightly as the spear illuminated, however the momentary lapse in focus was enough for the weapon to bypass Karvaaka's blade and make contact with Cyrus face. The young legionnaire's head snapped to the side, and he all but leapt a stride back from his diminutive aggressor. He snarled in pain and surprise, but it was not as if the strike was entirely unexpected with a weapon pointed at him, after all. Immediately however, the soldier's cobalt eye flew back to the figure of his opponent, pupil dialated and glittering in the eldritch light that filled the room.

Now though, the gnome stood an imposing six feet in height, brandishing his gleaming spear at Cyrus' chest. The legionnaire held Karvaaka out before him still defensively, between him and his strange visitor, using the brief time allowed to him to try and make sense of the situation. Somehow, this gnome had decided that the soldier's room was his own, and for whatever reason he had decided it was worth engaging the legionnaire in combat to protect it. Cyrus was familiar with the oft strange ways of the Fae races, where some method usually lay behind a percieved madness, however so far this particular gnome seemed only interested in defending "his" room. The young legionnaire wondered if there was a deeper meaning behind the gnome's violent insistency, however the legionnaire also knew that the mystery would not be revealed until the situation had changed slightly. Something told the young soldier that the gnome would be more forthcomming without that spear in his hands.

"I already have the room, gnome." The tone of Cyrus' voice had changed somewhat, becomming colder and harder than before. "Getting yourself killed will not serve you any better than bedeviling myself and the other inhabitants of this fortress." Karvaaka's rune-engraven blade hovered menacingly in the air, it's steady and poised positioning heralding the skill behind the hand that held it. "Answer my question, or you will truly join the ghosts of Darkblade."

Cyrus' sword again moved towards the spearhead pointed at him, a defensive precaution against possible strikes, but the soldier would give the gnome one last chance for peace. After that, the little bastard would be fed to Pandora for a mid-darkening snack.

[Steve]

With twist of the Gnome's wrist, the spearhead moved in a tight circle and then resumed pointing at Cyrus' chest. the Gnome's gaze bore no expression of emotion and was fixed at the Legionnaire's eye.

"You already got the answer Big Nob. You been messing in my room. You even let that animal you keep come in. This been my room long before you were whelped. Don't want you here where I live. Don't want animals here where I live.

"I might of let you go but you being very much contrary so you getting hurt. About time you stop talking and do something. Or, you want me to stick you first? Maybe a bit of blood first?"

Then a voice called out, "Go Mom, go!" Several other voices joined in chorus , "Go Mom, go!" There were several small Gnomes perched atop the spear rack, cheering on the spear wielding Gnome.

[Cyrus Marius]

"Mom?!"

The soldier's cobalt gaze immediately flashed to the spear rack at the sound of the new voices, his lone eye widening slightly as it focused on the figures of the young gnomes cheering their mother onward. The legionnaire groaned inwardly, for the revalation that the spear-wielding gnome was a woman, and a mother at that, took some of the righteous fire from his belly. Though he felt entirely justified in his occupation of the room, and the gnome's threats more than justified Karvaaka's presence in his hand, he was not yet so monsterous as to thrill in bringing violence and death into the lives of mothers and children.

Still, that did not change the situation at hand. A spear still pointed towards his chest, gleaming and poised for the kill, and by the deft way the gnome had already handled the weapon, Cyrus believed that she was not as helpless or vulnerable as one might imagine. From the way that the spears had fallen and risen before, as well as the mysterious illumination emminating from the mundane armament, the legionnaire believed it was also a reasonable assumption that the gnome was a practitioner of some sphere of arcana. There was a chance that the tricky little fae had used skill and deception rather than arcane means, but it was a chance that the young soldier was unwilling to take. He would assume that the creature had the ability and prepare for it, and be pleasantly surprised if his assumption proved to be unfounded.

The six-foot gnome's words caused Cyrus' lips to curl in a snarl, but he made no further reply. There might be a peaceful resolution to this conflict, an understanding to be agreed upon by all parties, but such diplomatic ends would not be reached while the gleaming weapons pointed towards each other. The gnome would have to be disarmed, and should her arcana prove too potent or dangerous, the threat would have to be neutralized. The young soldier's lone eye flicked over again to the gnomish children that cheered from atop the spear rack, and though he silently prayed that they would be spared the sight of their mother's bloody death, he hardened his heart to commit the deed all the same.

Without a word of response or any outward indication of his actions, the legionnaire swung his ardentium blade horizontally, bringing it in hard and fast and aimed for the glowing spearpoint before him. In the same motion, he pushed off from his rear foot and advanced a step into the gnome's proximity. Being familiar with the uses of an infantry spear, it was the soldier's intention to knock the glowing spearhead aside and place himself inside the weapon's radius of attack; where the weapon's length would be more hinderence then boon, and where Karvaaka's blade would be well positioned to pierce the gnome's defenses.

[Steve]

One of the little Gnomes called out, "Punch holes in Big Nob". The others laughed and joined in, chanting, "Punch holes in Big Nob, Punch holes in Big Nob, Punch holes in Big Nob................" The young ones where thoroughly enjoying this and seemed totally unconcerned about the safety of their mother. They were treating the situation as if it were a game. In a moment they began clapping, keeping time with each other.

The six-foot gnome waited for Cyrus to make the first move.

Without a word of response or any outward indication of his actions, the legionnaire swung his ardentium blade horizontally, bringing it in hard and fast and aimed for the glowing spearpoint before him. In the same motion, he pushed off from his rear foot and advanced a step into the gnome's proximity. Being familiar with the uses of an infantry spear, it was the soldier's intention to knock the glowing spearhead aside and place himself inside the weapon's radius of attack; where the weapon's length would be more hinderence then boon, and where Karvaaka's blade would be well positioned to pierce the gnome's defenses.

The Gnome leaned forward and swung the spear to meet the blade of the Legionnaire. The movement was faster than would have been expected from a Gnome. The spearhead hit the blade close to the hilt, pushing it and Cyrus' forearm aside. The shaft of the spear was pushed, crossed Cyrus' body and pushed him back. The Gnome continued pressure against the sword arm and body. Cyrus was forced to move back if he was to keep his balance.

The little Gnomes atop the Spear Rack, stood and jumped up and down as they cheered.

[Cyrus Marius]

The sound of crystal and steel crashing against each other filled the small confines with an almost musical chime as the two combatants met. Cyrus' initial swipe was met with a forced block, and the gnome pressed forward in response, using the haft of her spear as a quarterstaff and applying pressure against the legionnaire's sword arm and chest. Where Cyrus might have been taken aback by the gnome's aggressive manuver prior to engaging the creature in combat, once the fight had begun, the soldier was an entirely different entity. He did not yet give in to his demons; those writhing tendrils of fiery rage and bloodlust that lurked within his spirit, but he approached the fight with a methodical gift for violence that would chill most mortal men.

As he felt the pressure forcing him back, the young legionnaire's left hand shot upwards and firmly grasped ahold of the spear haft. It was a move that usually required a heavy gauntlet in swordplay, but Cyrus' long fingers had no trouble wrapping around the weapon's smooth wooden surface. In the same moment, his back left leg planted itself firmly, toes pointed forty-five degrees to the left of the direction that Cyrus faced. The stable platform would give Cyrus something to brace himself against in the face of the gnome's pressure, and if the creature exherted enough force to try and topple the legionnaire, it could be redirected in the manner perfected by Ataa practictioners. Though the soldier had little schooling in true Zinn'ka, he had enough experiance brawling in taverns and alleys to be somewhat familiar with the nuances of close, personal combat.

Not giving his foe time to register his hold upon her weapon, Cyrus jerked backwards as hard as he could with his left arm. His strength was formidable for a man of his size, and it was his intention to throw the gnome off balance, using the pressure that she was already applying in conjunction with his own move. As his left hand wrenched the spear-wielding gnome closer, his right leg shot out in a formless, rudementary front snap-kick, aimed at the gnome's knee. Cyrus hoped that his strike would break the creature's limb, shattering whatever concentration that she may have and making it easier for Cyrus to disarm her. He spared not a thought for the gnome children that still cheered from atop the spear rack, for a crippled mother was still preferable to a dead one.

[Steve]

What may have been a duel turned into a brawl.

When Cyrus took hold of the haft of sword with his left hand and jerked back, the Gnome did not try to check her forward movement but simply continued the push.

Standing on one foot was far from a stable platform with the Gnome pushing against the Legionnaire's body and that added to by Cyrus' pull on the spear. The pull did not prevent the human from falling back, in fact it hastened it. The Gnome was now off balance but her momentum conitinued in the same direction. However the combined actions caused the Gnome to fall with him as well.

The kick with his right leg hit its target but with far less force than would be needed to shatter bone. The kick delivered while falling back lacked the weight of the Legionnaire's body behind it.

Cyrus' hold on the spear did not prevent the Gnome from pushing the haft against Cyrus' throat and pinning his sword arm to the floor. There was a steady pressure against the neck causing the windpipe to constrict it. Cyrus was in extremis, he needed to do something and do it fast while he still had ample air in his lungs.

[Cyrus Marius]

A snarl escaped Cyrus' lips of it's own volition as the two combatants went down, the gnome's weight and enhanced size bowling into the legionnaire and taking them both to the floor. Immediately, the pressure of the wooden haft upon his windpipe registered in Cyrus' mind, and by reflex his left hand slid down the weapon's length, until it was just between his throat and the wooden haft. He had to slightly scratch the soft skin of his own neck to force his fingers between his flesh and the wood, but quickly managed to get his digets between his windpipe and the spear, allowing for a ragged, rasping breath to be drawn into his body.

He was in a position of disadvantage now however, with his left hand occupied by maintaining some meager passage-way for air, and his right arm being pressed by the spear while the gnome's weight sat atop him. Still however, the soldier would not flag, nor show any signs of yielding. It was not in him to succumb, nor to surrender.

Reacting with the instinct his training and experiance had instilled into him, Cyrus deftly reversed Karvaaka in his right hand, the longsword's light weight and magnificent balance allowing for easier manipulation despite it's size. The gnome's weight on his arm would make any efforts in slashing useless, however the eldritch blade's keen point did not need much assistance to penetrate an armorless foe, only the right position and enough force to puncture soft, yielding flesh. The gnome was face down atop him, arms occupied with keeping him pinned, so Karvaaka moved with methodical deliberation, her reversed gleaming point rising slowly until it was aimed at the gnome's kidneys. The muscles of the legionnaire's forearm and wrist forced against the gnome's efforts, using the raw power contained in his muscular physique to drive the sword's point inexorably towards the vulnerable vital organ.

It was no true strike; only the iron determination of a fierce soldier, guiding the point of his weapon slowly, slowly, towards home.

[Steve]

The Legionnaire's left hand slid down the weapon's length, until it was just between his throat and the wooden haft. Thus he managed to allow for adequate breathing.

The Gnome continued pressing against Cyrus' neck and sword arm. Maintaining an open windpipe was foremost in the mind of the human and he was succeeding.
When the Gnome realized what Cyrus was trying to do with his sword, in a jerking motion she pushed upward with the spear haft against the lower jaw intending to distract her opponent. That done, she lifted her body with a jerk, thus putting much of her weight on the spear haft, causing it to slide back down against his throat. The pressure was greater than before and despite Cyrus' efforts to push the haft, his airway was blocked. The Legionnaire was sputtering for breath but was fully able to fight.

As the Gnome rose, she lifted the spear and swung it at Cyrus' blade. Though the sword was deflected, the Gnome's hip was pierced superficially.

The Gnome backed off to get to get away from Cyrus' blade and assume a defensive posture of sorts.

One of the little Gnomes yelled, " Come on Mom. Quit playing around and finish him." The other Gnomes resumed the chant, "Go, Mom Go"!

[Cyrus Marius]

Cyrus could feel his clenched teeth grind against one another from the force of the gnome's upwards strike, however the blow caused negligable damage, and only served to further enrage the soldier. His sword arm drove Karvaaka forward slowly and steadily, aiming for his foe's exposed side.

The gnome reacted swiftly however, pushing herself off of the fallen soldier by applying pressure against his neck one more time. The wooden haft of the spear ground against Cyrus' larynx, and for a moment the legionnaire could only snarl and cough as his air passage was pinched shut. The positioning left his right arm more able to strike however, and his sapphire eye shone brightly with malicious intent. His sword shot forward, like an agitated cobra, puncturing a superfluous wound in the gnome's hip before it could be deflected safely away. The gnome backed away and held the spear out before her defensively, Karvaaka's kiss obviously leaving a memorable impression.

Utilizing the hard-packed muscles of his back and upper body as his acrobatic training had taught him, the legionnaire lifted his legs in the air and vaulted to a standing position, his body transitioning into a defensive stance with liquid smoothness. Though his lone eye glittered with the rush that the fight brought out in the legionnaire, his countence was stoic, almost serene, and his posture was as comfortable and relaxed as his breathing. The chaotic rhythm of combat had become like second nature to the warlike soldier, and the adrenaline surging through him honed his senses and his responses. Like the Virkyn that often shadowed his steps, his gaze was that of the predator, fixed upon the prey, in the moment before the attack.

Like a wolf himself, Cyrus began to stalk towards his foe, his longsword's tip making small, controlled circles in the air before him. His body was turned nearly profile towards the gnome, knees bent and held in a fencing stance that favored his single weapon, and his sword arm was bent at the elbow so that Karvaaka's tip hovered out before his eye level. The room was small and it would not take long to cover the distance between them, so after two slow, deliberate strides, the young legionnaire suddenly hastened his steps and altered their length, taking rapid steps at alternating angles to enter into the gnome's proximity. His movements belied the deep lupine connection that bound him to his Virkyn, almost inhuman in their instinctual quality.

With a flash, Karvaaka lashed out, striking forward in a jabbing thrust at the gnome's upper-right guard. The attack was a feint however, one of Cyrus' favorites, and in the blink of an eye, he had launched a second thrust at the gnome's upper-left guard.

[Steve]

The Gnome watched as Cyrus lifted his legs in the air and vaulted to a standing position.

Cyrus began to stalk towards his foe, his longsword's tip making small, controlled circles in the air before him. With a flash, Karvaaka lashed out, striking forward in a jabbing thrust at the gnome's upper right guard. The attack was a feint however, one of Cyrus' favorites, and in the blink of an eye, he had launched a second thrust at the gnome's upper-left guard.

The spear had a longer reach than the sword and the Gnome took full advantage of it. Her concentration was as much on the human's body as on his weapon. When Cyrus began his feint he was well within the range of the spear, she thrust the spear at the Legionnaire's chest. His choice was to move or counter with a defensive move, else he would be impaled by the spear.

[Cyrus Marius]

With a twist of his wrist, Cyrus checked his thrust and swung his blade in a sweeping parry, aiming to swat away the spear-point before it could strike his chest. The two weapons met again with that unique chiming sound, but the sound was followed by the grinding of steel against wood, as the young legionnaire followed through with the parry and locked his weapon against the gnome's, sliding against the wooden haft until it struck his crossbar. He then forced downward with the muscles of his back and shoulder, hoping to utilize the leverage of his blade and bind the spear for a moment.

In the same heartbeat, the young soldier began to swiftly advance inside the gnome's radius of attack, forcing the creature to either allow Cyrus to enter inside the range of lethality or step back closer to the wall. To further throw the gnome in disaray, the legionnaire suddenly shot his longsword's keen edge down the spear's smoothed surface, loosening his bind on the weapon somewhat b