Fable - Ask Sordid Affair

[Sol'aufain]

Fain was in the training room. It was the middle of the night. He couldn’t sleep, so he got to work.

His rapier’s blade was naked in the dim glow, it’s point and edges magically dulled, before him a trio of training golems shambled about waiting for his next move. Fain wore no armor, his chest was bare and slick with sweat, he wore trousers and boots, his sheath was on the ground with his shirt, and a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

Sol’aufain Ulthrel was only at peace when he was fighting, his hand lifted and his fingertips glowed amethyst as he turned his hand clockwise. Simultaneously the movements of the golems became more erratic, almost like they were seizing or starting to malfunction. The one of the left shot in faster than most could follow, the training blade it carried arched in from the same side. At the same time the one on the right came in low, stabbing up. Finally the golem in the center attacked dead on.

Fain’s movements were graceful like a dancer or an acrobat in motion. The melody of the fight was taking hold and he followed the tune with perfect tempo. In the blink of an eye his blade darted out, redirecting the attack from the left into the stab coming up from the right while lifting his hand and blasting the center most golem with an arctic blast that knocked it back, it’s chest covered in a sheet of ice.

Fain exhaled, his breath pluming in the air, as he examined his handy work.

Vyx'aria (Sreeya)

 

[Vyx'aria]

“Resorting to sorcery already?” a voice resounded from the doorway to the training chamber. Fain would turn to find the Queen herself, leaning against the entrance, arms crossed and with the faintest smirk tugging at her lips.

She had arrived to speak with the weaponsmaster and assign him new command, but instead decided to witness his training methods. His choice of attire certainly helped.

She stepped into the room.

With deliberate ease, she shrugged from her outer mantle and let it fall aside, revealing the fitted vest beneath. Dark fabric clung to corded shoulders and sinewed arms honed by centuries of war. She gathered her silver hair and bound it into a tight knot at the nape of her neck, movements unhurried.

Her red gaze found his.

“I trust,” she said at last, tilting her head a fraction, “that you would not deny your Queen a demonstration.”

She paused.

“Steel to steel.”

Sol'aufain

 

[Sol'aufain]

Fain evaded the hurried strike for he golem their blunted steel carving a gash in the ground, the point of his rapier, a glittering pin prick, shot forward and found the keystone holding the shamble of stone together and pressed it out the back of what would have been the magical training dummy’s neck. The Golem collapsed and a voice echoed from behind him in the darkness.

Fain swiped his hand in the air, amethyst miasma drifting just behind his fingers, and the other two golem’s froze. His head turned to regard the newcomer. When he saw the Queen walking toward him, his eyebrow lifted in interest.

“Any skill worth having is worth using, Valsharess” he replied, as he turned toward her and bowed his respect.

Fain came back up as she casually shrugged out of her mantle. His eyes didn’t stray from her face, even though the temptation was immense. Rumors of the Queen’s beauty were commonplace, but not one of them came close to capturing her essence.

“It would be my honor,” he replied in his harsh whisper of a voice.

Fain’s front foot stepped back, the tip of his rapier came up, and a small smile dared to flit across his lips.

“Say when, my Queen.”

Vyx'aria

 

[Vel'duith]

A short, slight wisp of a Drow woman dressed in dark spidersilk robes crossed the upper pathway arcing over the training area, a shimmering silvery disc stacked with several heavy looking old volumes dutifully floating behind her. Hearing the ring of metal on stone, the grunts of exertion, and the tones of a very familiar-voiced quip, she paused, approaching the railing, garnet-hued eyes widening, lips pursing as she nibbled at the inside corner of the lower one. Then she stepped out onto the next alcove, moving to its rail. Her tongue clucked an appreciative rhythm at the glistening, sculpted muscles of the youthful swordsman. She arched a snowy eyebrow, sheepishly grinning at the sight of Vyx’aria teasing the strapping ja’luk. She always seems to find the attractive ones…

Vel’duith took a seat on the alcove bench, crossing her legs and leaning forward to better spectate over the railing. As an afterthought, she waved a hand, beckoning the disc to gently set the stack of grimoires down beside her. She wasn’t about to miss this display, not even as eager as she was to plumb through the palace library again.

Sol'aufain
Vyx'aria