Private Tales The Point or the Pommel

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Futures spread across the periphery of Cormund's vision like the segments of a dragonfly's eyes. They threatened to push in and cloud his sight, the side effect of the panic that was setting in. Gods, she even knew his name! All he could do was take a deep breath and muster up the best semblance of confidence he could fabricate. He smiled crookedly, concern still present in his sharp Teal eyes. As stormy green met calm ocean blue, Cormund tried to imitate the invocation that had intimidated him so much.

"V-Vittoria Larrainth" (Damn his stutter) He spoke with the most solid voice he could gather.
"Yes, it is rather awful. That's why Ophir is doing it." Cormund flinched at her smile.
"No, but I don't think I've ever heard of you going easy on anyone...e-ever."

Cormund's eyes shot up and to the right, as if he were trying to recall something, but in reality he was honing in on a vision of Vittoria dragging a dagger from her right arm. Eugh, so that was her other power. He only knew about the unmaking that she was so famous for. As she scratched and dug into her left forearm, Cormund Augur knew he was wrong again. It helped him realize that she had more than one dagger on her though, probably a whole slew of them. He looked around frantically to find the other spots she could have pulled them out of but it was too late. Not like he could look into the past.

Among his searching though, he caught sight of himself with a dagger through the eye. He ducked, holding his hands onto his head and crouching down, only to find the same dagger lodged in front of him instead. She could have killed him! She very well might have if it were a different future. Cormund picked up the dagger and nodded in thanks, realizing he didn't have a weapon of his own. How...sportsmanlike.

"So, is it a ring out type of thing? Do we try to shove each other in the chasm or...uhh...just go until I-- until one of us can't go any longer?"

He turned from Vittoria to Ophir and back, hoping from some clarification from one of them.

One after the other, Vittoria had thrown ten of her knives his way, all lined up before him.

Ophir watched with a grim face, already knowing that anyone other than the D'Amour boy or the Strand Initiate would not stand a chance against the daughter of a famed First Level Dreadlord. "The chasm is to make sure I keep you apart. You go until the other hits the ground."

Vittoria smiled, the kind that never showed emotion nor teeth. It was all lips, and it did nothing to her dead yet calculating eyes. "All you need to do, Cormund, is to hit me with any of my knives. I will even stand closer for you." She took two steps, and already looked like she were a feline on the prowl, watching her prey. There was deliberate slowness to her walk, giving the other Initiate time to realise what was happening and to prepare himself.

As she can to stand three feet away from the edge, she tucked her hands behind her back, lifted her chin slightly, and regarded the other across from her. "Ten knives to hurt me. I have two left on my person, and you best have hit your target by the time I reach for the first of my two."

It was clear that Vittoria was taunting the boy. He who possessed a magic that could not truly hurt or damage her, that could not reach her where she stood. She did not know if Cormund truly could throw knives, but there were scars beneath her uniform that showed how many times she survived many knives.

 

[Cormund Augur]

Cormund could barely keep it together. He eyed the knives laid in front of him and his face simply couldn't sit still. The edges of his mouth twitched, his normally absent and far off eyes flicked between them and the nothing around them. He understood what he needed to do without question, but that was deeper down. The surface of his mind was a torrent of indecision. Was there a point to fighting? Could he fake an injury to get out of this? If he did, what would the others think?

He scanned his fellow initiates with mixed results. Pity and laughter resounded as the prominent response from the crowd. They really expected absolutely nothing from him. However...

This meant there was nothing to lose, and everything to win.

Cormund picked up a few more knives and paced his side of the makeshift arena, eyes fixed on his opponent. Part of him was afraid he would hurt her, but the thought was quickly snuffed out. If he held back even a bit, there was no doubt she'd be able to tell, and if she wasn't planning on gutting him now she certainly would after that. He held the blade of the knife, reeling it back while he paced. If he really didn't mean to pull his punches, then there was only one place to aim. Right for the heart. With that thought, Cormund put his arm in motion to set the knife on its path.

But what if she really died?

In that moment Cormund's arm twitched, and the knife's path turned uncertain.

10/11 knives left.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

The knife curved before it could strike true into her flesh. Vittoria did not move an inch, did not watch the knife as it soared towards her but that slight doubt he had costed him. It ruined what could have been a perfect throw, but that slight jolt at the start of his aim ensured the knife's trajectory skewed and fell a few feet behind the Unmaker.

Her eyes never left him.

Their classmates were quiet, daring not to make a sound in fear Vittoria would show just how strong she was. Ophir, glancing between the two, now focused his sights onto the Augur boy. He could find his target. He had a good throw on him, but even if Larrainth did not speak, there was so much about her to fear.

And what if he struck true? Would she retaliate?

"Next knife." Was the only call she gave.

 

[Cormund Augur]

Cormund winced as the knife missed its mark, expecting some sort of reprisal. When it never came, he focused back in and picked up another blade to replace the one he'd lost. In most every martial skill, Cormund was behind his classmates or just barely keeping up, but he had always been specially incentivized to do well at range. Throwing was his best, but he had limited experience against living things aside from rabbits.

The silence disturbed him more than any jeering, and Vittoria's ceaseless eye contact didn't make things better. He thought about searching his visions, but he feared taking his eyes off her for a moment. They wouldn't be much help right now anyways. Besides, he wanted to see what he could do without his foresight.

Stuffing the knives in his pocket, the doomsayer reached in and threw three of them towards center mass. One in the center and one on either side. It was a tight spread, but it still made dodging left or right unfeasible...right? Despite the uncertainty there was no hesitation behind this throw. Now all there was to see is what she would do.

Cormund maintained eye contact and took out a replacement knife to ready himself for the possible retaliation.

7/11 knives left.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

The first missed again.

The second found home in the loose sleeve at her left, tearing the silk blouse as it fell to the ground.

The third, she did not bother avoiding. Vittoria felt it pierce into her thigh but all she did to acknowledge the pain was smile. She bared her teeth at him, did not move from where she stood, and simply straightened her spine.

"A good shot. Loosen your wrist a little more and you may get a better shot." She crooned.

She was going to be a Dreadlord one day. Dreadlords could keep fighting even through many broken bones and grievous wounds, and this was not the first time she knew this pain. To get good at throwing knives, one risked many wounds, many missteps. But Vittoria nodded for Cormund to throw the next. The leg did not hurt as much, merely an irritating itch she could not scratch, but her eyes travelled down to it.

"See if you can aim for my heart."

 

[Cormund Augur]

Cormund's eyes went wide at the smile. Sure she was a Dreadlord in training, but a wound like that should at least elicit something other than that damned smile. His fear began to give way to a mix of annoyance and determination. Her taunts certainly didn't help. Still, they weren't just taunts, his wrist was a bit tense. She was genuinely paying attention and giving him real advice.

He kept his wrist loose for the next throws. As the knives began to dwindle, he felt himself getting surprisingly calmer. Normally when the pressure ramped up he found himself breaking down further, but it was the opposite here for some reason. His lips still tensed, however, and he did not find himself confident enough to speak.

It would be a complicated maneuver, but it just might work. One knife was aimed for the throat and one for the heart, the third he threw at a rock on the ground. His visions were coming in handy for once, and he foresaw the ricochet hitting the same knife, driving it further into Vittoria's leg. Whether this would come to pass was to be seen, but the knives were let loose in sequence towards her vital spots. She had gone without defending herself for far too long. This time his aim was true, and his purpose was clear.

4/11 knives left.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Well, he was a quick learner.

The knife meant for her throat never made it. It soared above her shoulder and fell short behind her, almost hitting another Initiate that lined up behind her. The second hit her chest but bounced off the leathers she wore for training purposes. It had been padded over a chest plate, but Vittoria looked down to see the tear in her leather and loosed a laugh that slipped past her lips.

A laugh that grew louder as pain increased at her leg, and his third shot hit true.

He had four knives left, and Vittoria looked up at him with a ferality most of her peers knew well. There was a flicker of something indescribable across her expression, but letting loose a breath she stood and stared down her opponent. "One more chance, Cormund. If you miss, then I am going to move to pick up all those knives and put them back... and then you can get a head start run."

She smiled, unlike anything she ever expressed before. Insanity, some might call it, but if anyone knew her, they would know that her smile was a promise.

Her leg throbbed as she shifted slightly, and Vittoria sucked in a breath through bared teeth.

 

[Cormund Augur]

Cormund received the message loud and clear. After this it would be his turn to defend, and against someone far more skilled in combat than he was. He would have to consider his next throws very carefully. It didn't help that his visions were completely unrelated to his predicament. As much as it was his curse, he needed it right now. He didn't see any other way to survive this. That smile and laugh... it felt like she was going to kill him right there.

Despite this, he wasn't as scared as he would normally be. The ferality she displayed, the determination, it was contagious to him, and he couldn't help but smile along, although his was tinged with nerves.

Doomsayer stared down Unmaker, and he threw. Both were directed towards her other leg. One to hit, and one to drive it in past the leather. If her footing was off, then its very likely her throws would be off too. If he was really lucky, then she might even fall. It was possible to win if he did this just right.

Cormund kept two knives, one in each hand, gripped by their handles. If Vittoria stayed standing then he could block as well as dodge this way. He was certainly going to need all the help he could get if he didn't have his foresight on his side right now. His smile wavered ever so slightly.

"C-come on then, let's see it"

2 knives left, and he wasn't letting them go.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

She could very well dodge each of his throws, but Vittoria felt it a lesson to teach her classmates the level of strength and might they needed to be at this stage of their education and training. Yes, a job well done for him to get that other knife into her leg, which Vittoria winced through bared teeth. Her hand went to reach for it, but she could not take either knife out now.

"Quit toying around, Larrainth." Ophir made motions for her to wrap things up.

A smile full of malice lifted her lips, eyes darting from the Dreadlord running this special training session to that of Cormund's gaze.

"Want to try once more, Cormund Augur?" There was a lilt to her voice, and edge no one liked hearing. The class shifted, some backing away from Vittoria as she made to turn her back on Cormund. "Last chance, and then it is my turn." Her eyes went to those that lined up behind her. King was right there, watching her with interest. He was used to his friend's unusual ways, but he only offered her a small smile of which she returned.

The next knives Cormund would throw would not make it to their target.

Magic would cover them, wrapping them to tightly before each component came away from it's final form. Blade broke away from the handle, and the handle from the pommel. She did not need to know how close they had been from striking her, but she could feel the knives and the points where her magic made them weakest. The parts that made up her knives fell past her, missing her completely as her magic tore it off it's path towards her.

Vittoria turned slowly to catch Cormund's stare. "Do you yield?"

 

[Cormund Augur]

She had got into his head. He really did only have one chance left, and so he ventured to throw one more knife right in the middle of her seemingly undefended spine. His eyes widened for a moment before they quickly narrowed into one of his signature nervous grimaces. But he did not waver.

"I do not yield."

The young initiate held his final knife tight, keeping it close to his face as if it would shield him from what would inevitably come after that statement. The wasted knife hurt, but he couldn't go forever without seeing the unmaker's magic in action. What was its exact nature though?

He saw the dagger come apart piece by piece in the air, but its not like it disintegrated. There was something specific about where it broke off into its component parts. In case his hunch was right, he held onto his own in such a way that he still had a grip on the blade itself, presumably the strongest part of the weapon.

"I said come on."

Cormund wasn't exactly afraid of pain, but there was something else in the air. The knowledge that she could completely destroy him. It frightened him. He couldn't stop the fractured sight and sound from becoming a cacophony in his senses as his heart rate increased in anticipation. He had more visions to work with now, and saw certain futures of daggers plunging into his limbs or vitals. It was a leap of faith as to which ones were true.

1 knife.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria smiled.

"Good."

She loosed her blade so quickly, it looked as if she had not made such a move against him. It was just her skill being put on display, but the blade always struck true. No matter her target, Vittoria made for a deadly marksman. Only, her knife was aimed to pierce into a non vital area, a wound he could recover from if he did not move out of it's way. One wrong move and the knife would take his life.

 

[Cormund Augur]

The blade sunk itself into his shoulder before he even realized Vittoria threw it. He cursed himself in his head for paying too much attention to the knife in his hand rather than the knife coming at him. Then again, the thing looked like it would have sliced his jugular if he moved the wrong way. He took it out, now having two knives to work with at least.

As Cormund flitted his eyes all around, he saw only a handful of visions that were relevant. Sights of blades planting themselves in a variety of places in his body at lightning speed. It looked like most of them were aimed at non lethal areas, but a few were absolutely kill shots. Gods he really must have done it. She might just be willing to flaunt the rules this once just to cull him from the herd. He took a deep breath and remembered that he didn't have to match his reaction speed with Vittoria's. Not when he could predict.

Cormund gritted his teeth in an unidentifiable grimace, a mixing of different emotions that might be mistaken for his normal nervous face, but with something different thrown into the mix. Was it anger? Determination? Pure pain? Even Cormund didn't know, he just hoped that Ophir was a good healer.