Whatever Happened to Just Saying No?

[Iriah Caitrak]

A small smirk played over Ira’s lips as she watched her kick connect with Malagen’s knee bringing him down before her, but it quickly died on a jolt when instead of slicing through the man’s chest Ira hit nothing but air and in return received his fingers tightly wrapping around her wrist. There was no time for a reaction and in the next second Ira had her arm pinned painfully into her back, so she did the first thing that came to mind. She attempted to elbow him in the face, only his caught her arm and wrist easily there and pinned that against her back as well.

Anger rose up within her as she struggled against him, only serving to send shocks of pain from her left shoulder down her arm. She clenched her teeth and tried to ignore it and hold back the whimper in the back of her throat. Her shoulder had yet to completely recover from its injury during the Fallien civil war, an injury that only reared its ugly head whenever it was put in an awkward position, like right now for example. Still, that didn’t deter her, when Malagen came in closer to her, his breath fanning across her neck, she ignore her body’s initial response to enjoy the feeling, she stamped it down under her anger instead and struggled even harder against him, only causing more pain to herself. His words, a response to her caustic remark earlier—one she wished she hadn’t made now—left a trail of worry in her mind and when his lips pressed against her neck something opposite to his desired effect took over.

Fear.

It was an instinctual thing. She’d been attacked by a vampire and well remembered the pain of that woman’s teeth sinking into the flesh of her neck. And that was what she expected to feel once again and for a brief moment she did. Her entire body tensed and froze, her face paled considerably and her eyes clenched shut. But then she realized there was no pain; it was just her imagination reminding her of another time. Yet she could take no pleasure in his caress, she couldn’t trust him near her neck and she wanted him off her now.

Panic was beginning to take a hold of her. She controlled it for the moment, taking deep breaths, keeping herself as calm as possible. Then she felt his hand, fingers splayed as they searched down her side, edging closer to the one part of her anatomy he’d had a certain fixation on since the beginning of this battle.

Panic died and Ira narrowed her eyes. Just as his hand found its target, fingers kneading her backside, Ira’s head snapped back and her skull collided with some part of Malagen’s skull. Pain exploded along the base of her head but she ignored it, she knew it was coming and her attack did precisely what she wanted it to. His fingers loosened their grip and she easily slipped her wrists from his hold, his other hand completely leaving his backside and as he went to step away from her, she hooked her foot around his leg and tripped him, sending him sprawling into the grass.

Not wasting a second, Ira dropped her half swallows and spun around, forming a straight blade in her hand as she did so. She leapt onto the downed form of Malagen, effectively pinning him to the ground, or so she hoped. Her thighs on either side of his hips and her free hand pushing down some of her weight onto his chest, a chest with smooth, warm skin and hard, taunt muscle beneath it. She couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling under her palm for a brief moment, running her hand further down to the hard muscles of his stomach, but the moment of enjoyment was brief. She didn’t want to give Malagen the chance to recover and so without a second though, Ira plunged the dagger towards Malagen’s heart.

Nobody ever touches her like that and gets away with it.

[Malagen]

It all happened so fast that his calculating, automated mind barely managed to make note of it all. One moment his lips were tasting her skin, his hand caressing the softness of her backside, and the next the pleasure was evicted to make place for pain. It detonated at the left side of Malagen’s face as his cheekbone collided with the back of her head, impairing the half of his vision at the very least. It wasn’t a serious injury, but it tore the barbarian from the momentary reprieve with a shock, robbing him of depth perception for several seconds as Ira slipped from the grasp of his weaker arm. That was the primary reason why he failed to dodge her swiping leg, the attack looking destined to miss according to his temporarily dimmed perception. In reality, it cut the balance from beneath him, introducing his back to the grass in a rather striking manner.

Defenseless and temporarily dazed, Malagen had little chance at dodging Ira’s follow up, though in truth, even if he had been able to do just that, he probably would’ve remained stationary. Because the follow-up of the fierce tribal woman put them in a rather compromising position, her weight stranding him between her thighs as she mounted him, and it was certainly not a terribly position to be in. However, although their current posture was quite intimating, Ira seemed uninterested in any other possibility but the belligerent one. She paused barely a moment before bringing her blade down single-handedly, aiming to end their encounter in a very gory and abrupt manner.

Malagen – unsurprisingly – objected.

Most people, when in situations similar to the one the Dram was in, made a common mistake of trying to block the oncoming death-bringing blade. Far easier and more efficient then bringing an object to a halt was simply diverting its trajectory. In this case, Malagen’s right hand snapped from his side to intercept the advancing strike, swatting Ira’s forearm at the same time as his head snapped sideways. The result was expected; the knife was pushed diagonally upwards, cutting nothing but grass threads and impaling nothing but a piece of dirt several inches from Malagen’s face. But this was only half of his counterattack. He put the other half in motion without a moment of pause, his left hand grabbing for her opposite hip and latching onto the brim of her breeches. With one fierce tug, the half-naked barbarian rolled the invading woman off of his body, rotating his own body after her and effectively turning the tables.

She was trapped beneath him now, his significantly more imposing physique making the entire scene seem hopeless for the woman. The threat doubled in direness once Malagen managed to maneuver both her own hand and her blade to her throat, kissing her skin with the metal of the blade. His long raven-black hair fell down like a curtain, encompassing both of their as he leant closer to her, his face sporting a smirk of a man who was already declared the victor. But instead of opening up her neck with the edge of the dagger, his large hands moved it to the hem of her shirt, cutting it down the middle just deep enough to present an additional portion of her cleavage.

“You could’ve just told me you liked to be on top,” he spoke, knowing both the futility of jests and how it would probably fall on deaf ears given the situation, but uttering it anyways. The quasi-jovial mood lasted only for a moment though, the woman making the knife disappear, thus taking away both his leverage and the means to tear through the rest of her shirt. He could’ve just done it with his hands, of course, but who knew what kind of a weapon she would conjure next. It wasn’t safe to be this close anymore, and Malagen always played it safe.

Throwing himself sideways gracefully, the barbarian rolled away from Ira and regained his footing. He took several calm, calculated steps away from her, just far enough to establish safety perimeter and pick up his sheathed sword from its abandoned place on the ground. “There’s no point in resisting me, wench,” he said, regaining his eerily calm tone as if it came as a perk of wielding his saber. “You cannot win. So why don’t we call an end to this meaningless game and move on to something... more enjoyable?”

[Iriah Caitrak]

Her hopes of ending this fight in the next simple move were crushed.

Everything had gone as she’d hoped. Throwing him to the ground had stunned him and it seemed like she’d had just enough time to thrust her blade into his chest before he recovered, yet his daze cleared much faster than she had anticipated. His hand batted away her attack, sending it off course just enough to plunge into the earth by his face, leaving him unscathed and her wide open. It was a moment of realization, she’d left herself open to him many times now but there was nothing she could do. Her other hand was balancing her on his chest and before she could even mount any kind of defence she felt the world spin. Her back slammed into the earth with enough force to knock the wind from her lungs and then he was on top of her.

It wasn’t an altogether uncomfortable position to be in. In fact, she found herself rather enjoying the feel of his weight on her and his body pressing down just enough to keep her right where she was, leaving her wondering if she even wanted to move. Being in this kind of position, completely at his mercy did not leave her feeling the fear she should be. This was, after all, no battle. Instead she found herself strangely excited. Her heart fluttered and increased its rhythm and when he bent his face closer to hers a light, ticklish sensation, like the brushing feathers of a bird spread throughout her stomach. It was a pleasant feeling, but unnerving to her, she didn’t like the fact that he was so tempting and distracting.

His long hair fell around their faces and Ira had to push back the urge to reach up and run her fingers through it. For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her and when he didn’t she was unsure if she was more disappointed or relieved. She may have kissed him right then and there if not for the fact that she felt him moving her arm downwards and the next thing she knew her own blade was pressed against the soft skin of her neck, threatening to end their little exchange. The Calerian narrowed her eyes on her opponent and waited, instinct said he wouldn’t do it but she’d been wrong before, this however, was not one of those times. He moved the blade down from her neck, allowing her a breath of relief she let out slowly enough for him not to notice and blinked as he began slicing into the material covering her steadily rising and falling chest.

Surprisingly, she objected.

The blade disappeared from her hand.

The heat covering her body vanished and along with it the pressure and feel of him disappeared as well leaving her feeling slightly cold and slightly exposed as Malagen gracefully leapt away from her and came to his feet, retrieving his sword. With just as much grace as her opponent, perhaps a bit more just to show off, Ira rolled backwards and landed on all fours, slowly rising to stand straight before Malagen. Ira placed herself in a defensive stance with no weapons on hand, expecting him to resume the battle and attack her but instead he mocked her. Anger boiled up from within to the point where she almost missed the last part of his statement…almost. It stunned her, never in all her years would she have expected such a suggestion to even come from one such as him. Toy with her as he may that was the last thing she would ever expect during a battle. Still, it was not an overly bad suggestion.

The Calerian relaxed her stance as she gave her opponent a very obvious and slow once over, unconsciously biting down on her lower lip as she did.

“Hmmm…something more enjoyable, you say…”

She raised one of her brows as a mischievous look changed her once serious expression and softened all the lines on her face. The swirling colour of he eyes even changed from the silver they were to a deep blue. This could be an interesting proposal one that she could take a lot of, well enjoyment from, yet one that she was unsure of following through on. He was after all a stranger she had met in a battle arena. A person only lived once though.

Slowing crossing the distance between them, Ira began to circle Malagen as if she were stalking her prey. Reaching out, she ran the tips of her fingers and her fingernails lightly across his shoulder and then across the broad expanse of his back and finally around to the front and his bare chest allowing them to dip lower and trail over the ridges of her stomach. Wrapping her fingers around the band of his breeches, she tugged him closer to her, almost letting his body touch hers as she leaned forward, rising onto the tips of her toes to whisper in his ear.

“Just what kind of enjoyment are we talking about, because you’ve been disappointing me so far…”

It was less like a question and more like a dare just waiting for him to act upon.

[Malagen]

She was a fool if she thought his reasoning could be bedimmed so easily. Malagen knew that women were fickle, whimsical creatures, prone to changing their moods and opinions more often then politicians. But this metamorphosis from a bloodthirsty tribal to a pliable seductress was too abrupt to be explained logically, too convenient to be anything but another ruse. Charm was no less of a weapon then a sword, oftentimes an infinitely more deadly one, breaking the man’s defenses with a sway of the hips, a smirk and a faux lustful gaze. Ira seemed to be reaching for that feminine part of her arsenal right now, but the barbarian was scarcely susceptible to such inane tactics. The call of the flesh, the call that seemed to permeate around the tattooed woman like a call of a siren, fell on deaf ears. He knew better then to succumb to emotions, especially the phony ones.

Or at least that was what his training dictated.

The rest of him wasn’t so objective towards this change. With her frown gone from her lineaments and her tone a far cry from a harsh one, the tan-skinned woman was an even greater havoc for his uncanny equilibrium. More so because she seemed genuinely intrigued by his proposition, deliberating on it as her feet moved towards him with agonizing slowness. And regardless of the probable falsehood of her true intentions, Malagen couldn’t deny the fact that her touch was far from unwelcome. He let her caress his skin, his eyes ever watchful, his fingers ever itchy and ready to move in less then a blink, his muscles taut and his body tense as she circled around him like a cat that had the mouse cornered. The Dram didn’t allow her to find a blind spot, his neck craning and then ultimately snapping his head the other way to reestablish eye contact. But all his dead azures found was the same, teasing set of bluish eyes and the prolonged contact of her fingers sliding over his body.

“She’s playing you like a fiddler, maggot!” his mind reprimanded him strictly. “Take no chances, strike her down. You’re not here to have fun!” The voice, as always, belonged to his master, his instructor, the gray haired barbarian who met his end at the edge of his protégé’s blade. But for once, the voice was wrong; the barbarian did come here for some abatement. If he wanted not to have fun and stay in line with his brutish demeanor, he would’ve taken on a mission from a Snydicate, robbing people of lives permanently, instead of coming to a place where death was just a moment spent in blackness. Here, even if he made a mistake, the worst wound would be inflicted to his pride and Malagen estimated that he could risk one of those. If the wench turned on him, he could always get his revenge later, once they were both no longer under the protection of the Citadel’s enchantment.

So when Ira finished her survey, standing toe-to-toe but assaulting him only with the flicker of passion in her eyes, the ruthless swordsman stayed his sword hand. Well, momentarily at least. Because once her warm fingers tugged to the belt of his pants and she whispered into his ear in a husky voice, the sheathed saber was in motion.

“The kind that doesn’t require one of these,” Malagen said, allowing a smirk before discarding his only armament carelessly. Their eyes clashed, the controlled serenity of his defending against the sporadic chaos of hers. Most men would’ve melted in a situation like this, gave themselves up to the mercy of this vixen that poured honey in their ears. But, while he was a barbarian by origin, Malagen wasn’t an idiot. Seconds ago Ira was ready to stab him in the chest without even blinking, and right now, those weapon-summoning hands of hers were dangerously close to some of his vital organs and extremities. He was playing with live fire, he knew, the kind that even pyromancers couldn’t control, but he would not liquefy under its heat. Get burned by it, perhaps, or possibly extinguish it during the next hour or so should their encounter proceed in the same direction, but he would not be molten down by it.

Malagen, never a man of many words, decided for his hands to elaborate on the meaning of his words. His left slid down her side slowly, calm but resolved and unwavering as it reached for a handful of her behind and pulled it closer, defeating that last inch that stood between their bodies. She was so warm to the touch, so smooth and soft, almost sinfully so, almost enough to ignite a forgotten flame within him. The fingers of his other hand explored up her bare shoulder, stopping only to cup her neck and brush a thumb over the lips that have been calling him from the moment he first noticed them. Leaning his countenance minutely, the black-haired beast made a move to plant a kiss the tribal beauty.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Disappointment was left to the dust.

A spark slowly came to life in her as his hand grabbed her behind and pulled her against him, her soft body conforming to his hard, muscular frame, allowing her to feel every inch of his well shaped stomach and chest. Not that she hadn’t already with the hand she now found trapped between their two bodies. The heat from his bare skin seeped through the thin material left covering her, making her wish there was no material between them at all. She expected him to be rougher, but the barbarian of a man was proving to be much more gentle than she could have ever thought. His lips pressed against hers in an agonizingly slow kiss that was enough to elicit the slightest moan from the depths of her throat. Her free hand traveled up his bare side, the tips of her finger brushing against his skin as it wound its way along his back, up his neck and finally buried her fingers in the long strands of his hair. She scraped her nails across the base of his neck and up into his scalp before grasping the strands and tugging on them rather roughly as she pushed her body against his as much as she could.

Thought fled her mind as her lips parted and a soft whimper escaped. She wriggled her trapped hand from between their bodies and scratched her way up Malagen’s back and then slowly down his spine. Her nails rose over and dipped into the many scars that lined his skin, but she didn’t notice. She was enjoying his touch and his kiss too much but couldn’t bring herself to pull away, not yet. Instead, she rose onto the tips of her toes and slanted her mouth over his, her tongue seeking his tongue. The brushing feathers in her stomach travelled further downwards to a lower part of her anatomy and the excitement within her grew. It surprised her and left her feeling rather breathless.

But then she realized what she was doing.

Pulling roughly on the barbarian’s hair, the Calerian forced his head back as she nibbled and suckled his lower lip, lamenting the loss of his kiss already. She wanted to feel his hands all over her body, she wanted him to kiss her in places she’d never been kissed before but what she wanted and what was going to happen were two different things. She was no vixen or temptress, she was a warrior and she did not heed to the call of flesh.

With a sly smirk, she released his hair and trailed her fingers around the front of his neck and then over his throat.

“One should never underestimate their opponent…”

She brushed her finger lightly over his lips, which she wished were still pressed against hers. He’d even tasted good and her wandering mind began to wonder what the rest of him tasted like. But unlike him, she could control her emotions and the calls of her more primal instincts. Running her fingers along his jaw, Ira summoned a small blade that she held loosely in her hand, allowing the cold metal to press against his throat. Though she didn’t want to, she shifted her stance and moved away from his warm body, allowing that small inch of space once again. Bringing her other hand around, she quickly formed another small blade there as well and placed it against a certain part of his anatomy he’d been thinking with instead of his brain.

“Perhaps if you’d been using your azmam instead of your bhasad you would not be in this position.”

She kept her face close to his as she said the words in a husky whisper, her chest just lightly brushing against his every time she took a deep breath. Her eyes kept flashing from his azure gaze to his mouth and she couldn’t help but lick her lips. She could still taste him.

“Concede, if not you’ll lose something rather important to you before you lose your life.”

It would only take a flick of her wrists and this exchange would end between the two of them. Either way, if he gave in to her or not this was the end of it. As much as she craved him to take exactly what he wanted from her she would not give into it. There was more sense in her than that. A small part of her wanted him to overpower her, pin her to the ground and pleasure her until she begged him for mercy and the images and thoughts of that excited her even more making her bite down on her lower lip but she ignored the urges. Instead, she kept her gaze steady on his, her eyes now locked with his as she dared him to make a move he would regret. Death was not something she freely handed out to people; this was a ruse she did not want to follow through on. She’d only killed once before and it had nearly torn her to pieces on the inside with all the guilt. The thought that death was not permanent in this place gave her the added strength to keep her face from wavering and giving away her indecision on it.

[Malagen]

“Predictable.”

She’s been weighed and measured and she didn’t even know it. Her fraudulence was inputted into his calculations to provide every possible outcome before it even occurred. Malagen knew what the chances were that Ira would do this, he knew full well the risks of intimacy and how unlikely it was that her sudden attack of lust was genuine. The only reason why she had a drop on him right now was because he allowed her to, because he dropped his guard in exchange for several moments of closeness. That was why, even though her blades got dangerously close to biting into his skin, there was no panic on Malagen’s face, no perturbation reflected in the lineaments of his face. Instead, his cold eyes were stoic in standing their ground against her determined gaze, his lips curving in a barely noticeable grin. He didn’t underestimate her; he merely estimated and she played the predicted role.

Now, it was time for the threatened Dram to play his.

“You won’t do it. You can’t,” his cold voice mocked her, goaded her. She maybe held herself courageously during the battle, coming at him as a ferocious animal and swinging her conjured blades in throes of irritation and anger. But it was one thing to kill a man while the adrenaline pumped through your veins and you were swept away by its rush. A completely different, much more macabre thing, was looking somebody in the eyes while you rob them of their life. That lamentable look in their eyes, that last gurgling breath, that metallic taste of blood that gushed from the open wound and bathed your face with warm sticky liquid, that last desperate clutch of the fingers... She didn’t know the first thing about any of that; Malagen could read it in her eyes. He did. So many succumbed to his blade that he lost count. It took a killer to recognize a killer, and Ira wasn’t one.

And yet, when he made a move to join their bodies in an embrace once again, the knife that so far only touched his skin dug just below the surface of his neck, letting out a thin line of blood. “Though I’ve been wrong before,” he added, his smirk still present, even widening as they remained in the standstill. It was then that his mind reiterated a simple piece of data; they were in the Citadel. Within the walls of the Althanas’ most famous battling ground even the craven fools had the courage to do something drastic simply because they knew there were no repercussions. Granted, Ira probably wasn’t a coward and the fact that they were in the current position made it clear that she wasn’t a fool either. But even if she didn’t have the guts to go through with the kill out there, the calculations changed dramatically when the Ai’brone monks were added to the equation. If you knew that the kill wasn’t a kill at all, why be afraid to proceed with it?

This realization, however, cast no new light on the whole predicament. Malagen knew that there was a possibility the closeness would result with quite a pickle and that he would be given the choice to lose by either yielding or choking in his own blood. Neither was an attractive choice, but former at least didn’t put him out of the game yet. And this was a game, there was no doubt about it. Even if she seemed ready to slit his throat and put an end to the whole charade, there was more then just the desire to win in her eyes. Perhaps it were her lips that revealed this secret of hers, and the sweet way she bit them as his hands still touched her. Perhaps it was the lack of bitterness in her tone that would signify the definite change of mind. Oh, the game was still on and there were still cards to be played.

“It’s going to be rather hard to do what I had in mind without my... basad was it?” Malagen said, giving her behind a teasing squeeze. The blade that pressed against the cloth of his pants responded, tearing through the fabric to deliver the warning. “Very well. If you insist, then I yield. You win. Now, do you still want to play with swords, or should we start a different game?”

His indifferent tone made it sound like he didn’t care who was the ultimate victor of this encounter, but that wasn’t the whole truth. His pride was impacted by conceding. Game or no game, Malagen was taught that he was the best, the Dram Messiah; people yielded to him and not the other way around. But in every system there was a glitch, a ghost in the machine, an anomaly that forced the person to deviate from the allotted. For some reason beyond his comprehension, Ira was that anomaly.

[Iriah Caitrak]

A slow smile spread across her face as Malagen yielded to her. There was such a sense of satisfaction at those words. It wasn’t the same as beating your opponent down to the ground and making them kneel before you. No, but it had an altogether different sense of satisfaction, one that she liked the ring of. Especially hearing words like that coming from such an arrogant, conceded bandhakineya as he was. It was either he give in to her or taste the blade of her knives, either above or below for surely the man was fast but he wasn’t fast enough to stop the edge of both. She preferred it this way for the man had indeed judged her correct, though her face had never wavered once while he’d spelled out the truth before her. She was no killer and the death of the vampire who’d snuck into her room was still something that haunted her, waking nightmares. She could still see the woman’s face as her blade slipped into her chest.

Ira took a deep breath as she forced the images from her mind.

Looking at the line of blood on Malagen’s neck, she dispelled the energy used to create her knives and watched as they disappeared from her fingers, leaving her grasping at air, but not for long.

“Hmmm, yes…I’m sure that with the swords put away there are some very interesting games you would love to play.”

She kept her distance from him, running her fingers up the inside of his thigh and dangerously close to his bhasad before letting them toy with the hard muscles of his stomach. Her fingers trailing up over every ridge only to come back down again, loving the feel of the hard muscle covered by soft skin. Rising to the tips of her toes once again, the Calerian placed a kiss against the side of his neck, right over the wound she had caused. The metallic taste of his blood on the tip of her tongue as she pulled away with a rather satisfied smirk spread across her face. Hooking her leg around the back of his, Ira jerked it back suddenly and watched as the unprepared human went tumbling onto his back. His hands were still on her body, still griping her and he almost pulled her down with him but he eventually released his grip in favour of cushioning his landing with the grass.

“You men…do you think me some kind of ksudra,” she spat the word at him, leaving no kind of confusion about the meaning behind it. Her disgust evident in every word she said to him, “that I would allow your hands all over my body and that I would give in to you so easily.”

Her hands were planted on her hips as she stared down at Malagen, her face twisted from the look of lust she had placed over it into a mask of contempt. She did not pretend for one moment that she hadn’t enjoyed his touch or his kiss, in fact she knew that she’d forgotten herself in there for a brief second. But that in no way meant she was going to throw herself at his feet and let him do what he wanted with her. She was a warrior and part of a proud race and he was nothing more than some vile, arrogant male she happened to meet in an area of training she would probably never return to after this battle. Ira was not the kind of person to think herself above others, but the fact that he actually thought she would even have dvailiggya with him disgusted her. She knew nothing about him and was not about to get that intimate with a total stranger.

The spoiled brat that he was, was going to have to deal with the fact that he wasn’t going to get what he wanted, not this time anyway and not from her.

“Go find yourself some other pramada, I am not interested.”

Turning from him, Ira began heading towards the forest. She needed to get out of this place. The battle was over, she was the victor and there was no more to be had for her here. Malagen, he could stay to his hearts content and drown himself in the water for all she cared. He was just like every other male out there, only interested in his own needs, wants and desires and he interested her little. Though his touch had felt good on her body there were plenty of other males, plenty of other Fallien native males who knew how to treat women that she could entertain herself with.

Then again, she’d had years to entertain herself with any man she wanted to from Astaka and never had, including Revor. She had never found interest in that sort of thing, her only interests beyond her friends being training and growing stronger so she could help the other Calerians fight Fallen and save lost souls. But that was neither here nor there. These were thoughts she didn’t care to bother with.

The tall grass brushed against Ira’s thighs as she continued to ramble in her own head about the stupidity of men. The light of the sun being blocked out by the shade of the trees she was now approaching and it was at this moment that Ira reminded herself there was no place for her to go to in that forest. She was in an illusionary world, one that she was pretty sure was supposed to end when the battle was over yet she still found herself standing within it. The pounding of the waterfall was still echoing throughout the area and the gentle breeze continued to rustle the leaves on every tree. She didn’t see any kind of door, none like the one she had come in through.

Just how was she supposed to get out of here?

[Malagen]

She played hard to get and brought demise upon herself in the process.

Malagen was never the most forbearing man ever, but there were certain instances in which his patience seemed endless. If he was sitting in an ambush, for example, waiting for his victim to enter the designated area and spring the trap, the barbarian seemed resilient to the passing of time. He didn’t get irritated by the lack of action, by the elements, by the chirp of the birds, by the sun that lashed at his eyes with its beams. Or if he was onboard of a ship that fell into a windless patch that practically immobilized the vessel. His sensible mind simplified the matter, reminded him that he had no control over the weather, and doused his emotions. There was no aggravation, no regret, just the fact that he was where he was with a reason, waiting. Waiting forever if need be.

However, should that reason evanesce and ultimately become nonexistent, it took the Dram’s tolerance in tow. He would remain serene – there were seldom situations that broke that particular trait of his – but the wait usually came to an end in a rather gory manner. If there was no reason for something, then it was a waste of time, and if it was a waste of time, then he wasn’t efficient, wasn’t flawless. And Malagen hated being either of those things.

And yet, it became rather clear that his encounter with Ira was exactly that; a waste of time. The tribal woman fought him the best she could – her prowess mediocre at best, despite the few peculiar quirks such as weapon summoning – and then, when she realized that she was no match for him, she played on the card of her womanly charms. There was potential there, Malagen though, and that gave him the reason to stay his hand from putting an end to her little charade. But while the antics seemed enjoyable for both of them for a short period of time, the conclusion was the one he could predict. Ira was a strong, willful woman that was unafraid to not only get into the same room as the devil, but to take him by the hand for a dance. A dance she thought she led. And at the end of it he was one lying on his back while she loomed over him, her hands resting on the curve of her hips as rigor returned to her face.

He was the one who got screwed today.

He would kill this woman, Malagen knew then, when she stood over him victoriously, ceremoniously, like a conqueror that just brought an end to his latest campaign. Unlike the usual outcome, what occurred today in the picturesque arena of the Citadel would have repercussions in real life. She maybe walked away with a smile on her face, feeling like the queen of the world, but it was not to be long-lived. Because when the illusion faded and they stepped out of the protective spell of the Citadel, he would cut her down and stand above her as the true victor.

This had nothing to do with hatred though. It wasn’t even anger. Such emotions were primal, hasty, prone to clouding judgment, ultimately futile, and as such found no home in Malagen. If anything, there was actually a dose of respect in the dark swordsman towards Ira and that was more then the majority of his victims had an honor of having. But she was a victim, or rather, she would be soon enough. It was simply the way he operated, the way he was trained, the only way he knew how to think. If her pretense had been true and she submitted to her lust, there would be no need for belligerency simply because his plan unfolded down the allotted path. They would part ways as strangers and strange bedfellows. But since that was not to happen, there was a bug in the system, something that shattered the perfection, a renegade factor that messed up Malagen’s equation. And he had to eliminate it in order to regain his equilibrium.

But not in the Citadel. In here, death had no meaning, no weight. So instead of going after her, Malagen regained his footing slowly, not even bothering to dust off his pants. He retrieved his sheathed saber and his coat, donning the latter before taking a seat on a boulder at the edge of the pond where he waited. Waited for the game to end and for reality to deliver him a chance to level things out.

At least he found somebody worth facing. Somebody worth killing.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Ira sighed as she folded her arms under her chest, impatiently waiting for this to end. Was she supposed to call out and announce that the match was over or was it supposed to end on its own? Did she need to find some kind of door in order to exit or should she remain where she was? Too many questions, why hadn’t the monk explained this to her before she’d went inside? Why hadn’t she asked? She’d been too fixated on the fact that the monks had a way to revive the dead to even bother thinking about the operation inside this room. And now she was regretting it.

“Katsam…let me out of here.” She mumbled under her breath.

Running her fingers through her short, purple hair, Ira snuck a glance behind her. Malagen was heading over to the waterfall and calmly planting his behind on the boulder she had sat upon at the beginning of this mess. He seemed content to wait, perhaps that was what she just needed to do. Wait and eventually the world would fade and she would once again be in the halls of, oh, now what was it called again? Ahh, yes The Citadel, a great place of training for many warriors. Some of those warriors did not enjoy using it for its proper purpose however. They tried to frolic around in fields and have dvailiggya with any female they came across. What a great region Corone was turning out to be.

The illusionary world began to fade. The detail of every branch, every leaf slowly being turned into darkness. The sound of the water disappeared and was replaced by a void leaving no sound at all. And then, she was back in the halls of The Citadel. Her senses flooded with the sounds of the warriors and monks found therein going about their business. Surprisingly, the monk that had helped her before was standing before her now.

“How did your first battle go…?” He had a very soft smile.

“That bandhakineya tried to have dvailiggya with me as if I am some kind of ksudra. Ugh! I really wish I had cut off his bhasad in order to teach him a lesson.”

The monk clearly looked both surprised and confused by what she was saying, “I am sorry, but I cannot understand what language you are speaking…”

Ira flushed with a bit of embarrassment as she took a few deep breaths to calm herself.

“That warrior that came in after me tried to…have sex with me.” She lowered her voice on the last part so no one else around her would hear them.

The monk clearly seemed disheartened by this fact, “That is not what the arenas of The Citadel are for. I can assure you that is not what normally goes on behind closed doors and I do hope that this one experience will not stop you from returning.”

She was unsure if she would ever return to this place after that experience. Perhaps in a few days when she was not so angry things would be different, but right now she just wanted out of these halls as fast as her feet could carry her.

“I am unsure if I will return here any time soon.”

The monk nodded his head as he produced her rucksack for her.

“Svastyaksara.”

The monk furrowed her brow and Ira quickly corrected herself, “Thank you.”

“The pleasure was all mine. You are definitely an interesting and rare sight in these halls.”

She was unsure if that was because she was a female or because of her foreign nature. Either way it didn’t matter in the long run. Inclining her head to the monk in a respectful manner she turned to leave The Citadel. All she wanted right now was to find the Inn she was staying at and get a good night’s rest, if it even was night right now. A bath sounded rather good as well.

(The second part of this quest continues here.)

[Cyrus the virus]

EXP added!!

Movement will wait until the Judge's Choice consideration is done!