Philomel Fight Club {Closed}

[Nevin]

Radasanth was a bustling metropolis, full of people from every wall of life. People rushed back and forth, pushing past Nevin as he calmly made his way through the streets. He had already noted a place to get the metallic portions of his own and Sketch's weapons forged, that had been easy enough. He had even ducked inside and made sure they could handle the metalwork, and the master Smith of the forge had been a bit upset that Nevin had dare to question his skills. But he could, and knew how to work with Plynt without burning the metal to ashes.

So, with that confirmed, it was time to find their trainer. All he had to go on was Avis' instructions on how to find the woman, and Nevin had to admit that "check the half-decent brothels" wasn't much to go on. But. It's what he had, and he knew that he at least, needed to learn how to fight better. For too long he had been stumbling along, and the battles that he had gotten into had rarely gone well for him. The struggles to escape their captors with Stare had been close, too close - cracked ribs, heavy bruising, injured stomach... No. He couldn't keep going like this. So a weapon, and training was necessary.

He had already changed his diet, adding in supplements that would help encourage muscle growth, and had started doing some regular exercise beyond just his explorations, and while he hadn't seen any changes yet, Nevin knew that it was only a matter of time. So, with training, he might actually not be completely reliant on luck, magic, and others.

"Well hello there handsome. What can we here at the Emerald Lily do for you today? You're coming in a bit earlier than our normal customers." Nevin blinked twice coming out of his thoughts to look at the woman who was now sitting across from him at the small table. She was dressed modestly but sensually, a light green shift keeping her decency, while a diaphanous gown clung to her form - clearly designed to tittilate observers, but to shift attention away from herself.

The alchemist hadn't realized that the building he had gone into was a brother - he had honestly come in here just searching for place to get a drink and sit for a minute to think. The last few places that he had tried, both the madams and their girls had just stared at him blankly - but they had been rather seedy, nothing at all like this place. Maybe that had been his trouble - he had not been to a brothel here ever before, so had no idea where the decent brothels were or what they looked like. Sheer luck had brought him here - maybe she could help?

"I'm looking for someone, a friend of the half-celestial sent me looking." Nevin watched with bated breath for her reaction. For a second there was a glimmer of dislike that slipped across the woman's features - gone so fast that if he had not specifically been watching for it he would have missed it. Then she was smiling pleasantly as she reached out and patted his hand.

"You poor boy. Have some more to drink while I get a message to the person you're looking for. What did you need?"

"Uhm. I'm trying to get training." The woman nodded and stroked his hand before standing and walking off, her hips twisting sensually, subconsciously, as she strode away. Nevin drained the rest of his mead and asked for another round, fighting down the blush that had tried to creep up his cheeks. Now, to wait.

[Philomel]

"Matriarch!" the call came, "Someone has ... Well a message from a friend of the crow."

Immediately she looked up from where she was in the fortress courtyard, calmly cleaning her moderate array of weaponry. The sun streamed from between greying clouds, alighting on the stonework, kitchen garden and her long mythril main blade with severe power. It did much to reflect the impact that the words had on her as she stood up, two hooves firmly planted on the ground.

"What?" she replied, ears perking upwards, "Who? Where?"

"Radasanth!" the announcer - a tall, white haired beauty who had a history of abusive ex-lovers - said, rushing up to her. Eyes large and hair a mess it was clear she considered it urgent. "They used the words 'a friend of the half-celestial'."

For a moment all Philomel van der Aart did was stare at the messenger, her brow furrowing deeper and deeper. Thoughts flew through her mind of where she had come close to the half-celestial - Vitruvion, she had later learned his name was. A large amount of confusion had led to her be abused in his dungeon of horrors, and now he seemed very eager to fix their 'relationship'. Once he had learnt who she exactly was and what power she really had. His aide and steward, Stare the kenku - the crow as she was now colloquially known as by the Gilded Lily - had been sent twice now in order to parlay and assist with information. She had definitely had an impact on Philomel, for after their most recent meeting Philomel had given permission for her to use their friendship as a tool, if the need should arise. All Stare would have to do was go to a brothel and state that the friend of the half-celestial was calling.

"You did say that a friend of the crow has sent a message?"

The beauty paused and then nodded awkwardly. "I did ... Perhaps the crow is willing to grant some monetary exchange?"

Philomel almost laughed, now sheathing her fine mythril sword, Nameless, into its sheath. Gathering the rest of her items she began to ready herself, letting out a sigh.

"... Did they say what they wanted?"

With her hands behind her back the beauty nodded. "Yes Matriarch. Training I believe."

Her brow rose again, coming completely out of its steadily lowering depression.

"Wait, what? Stare let her friend contact me ... To train them?"

There was a pause. "Well ... You are very good at swordswomanship, my lady. You have trained ... All of us, really."

Philomel breathed in slow and grumbled under her breath. "Stupid ... Taking me for advantage. Just because I ..." She sighed for a long moment, cursing Stare silently in her mind. "How do we send back a polite refusal without-"

Oh let's just go, came a soft voice in her head.

Twisting sharply around Philomel and the beauty watched as a red and white, elegant form jumped down from atop the kitchen roof. Hidden in shadows he had been lying in wait all this time, ready to let Philomel know his precise opinion on the matter.

The faun blinked at the fox now approaching them and folded her arms. "What reasons do you give for us going?" Philomel asked of her greatest friend, and partner of her mind, Veridian - the fox-form earth-spirit.

Oh, entertainment mainly, he lifted his upper lip in a full-fanged grin. That, and the more allies we make, Philomel, the greater. Stare would only make interesting friends, to be sure.

The beauty glanced between fox and faun, unable to hear what Veridian was saying but entirely used to it. It was a common thing to see their Matriarch of this hidden fortress and mighty guild speaking outloud to her fox friend.

"If I may be so bold, my lady, why don't you combine it with a training series with your crew? You have said ever since the issue with the vampires and Captain Cain that you should teach them new techniques."

Veridian nodded his head a great many times. Exactly. You wanted to teach them more, more is your chance. Combine these, put the Feisty Fox into harbour and ... Well. Exciting.

Huffing, Philomel glanced between them and felt her heart sink. Truly all she wanted was an excuse not to do anything today, but it seemed that was not going to work. Even her own daughter was out, riding through the woods with Vaeron, her father. Ever since their own trip out when Philomel had been fighting vampires at the edge of Tular Celandine and Vaeron had seemed to get on surprisingly better than before ...

"Ugh, fine," she growled, rolling her eyes. "But we're going on Delath."

Veridian blinked but nodded his head, marching ahead with his paws. Dragon fastest after you, he agreed, and started the first steps for a new adventure.

[Nevin]

"Sir?" It was the woman from before - that had been surprisingly fast, probably just sent a magical message of some kind to this person that he was looking for. Nevin sat up straighter, blinking away the light doze he had fallen into while waiting. "Sir, Milady will be on her way. She has requested that you head to the dock - there will be a fox with golden eyes waiting to meet you." Nevin stood up and bowed to the woman, making her giggle. The comment about the fox was a bit odd -but considering he had a magical bird that had flown who knows how many miles while trying to find him because their magic had synced, he couldn't really say anything about a golden-eyed fox. The woman waved him off with a titter that she hid behind one hand.

Nevin stretched as he walked outside. While he had been able to get out faster than he had expected, his body and joints had gotten a bit stiff as time passed. Now that he had started the process of meeting the trainer, he needed to find where Sketch had gotten to. Hopefully the orator was still at the Inn and hadn't wandered off to tell stories somewhere. As he walked through the streets, Nevin frowned to himself slightly. There was a chance, if this trainer was irritated over having to train him, that she would be even more upset about having to train two people, one of whom didn't even know Stare, or whoever her half-celestial friend was. Well - they could meet this person and talk with them, at the very least, and work things out from there. Perhaps Nevin could offer alchemical aid of some kind?

Sketch thankfully was still at the inn that he and Nevin had rented rooms at. He was currently in the bar portion of the place, shoving food into his mouth still at an alarming rate. Well, at less of an alarming rate, but the alchemist thought that might be because he was getting used to how much the story-teller ate on a normal basis. The man seemed to use some of his physical reserves in order to work his summonings for his Grym, and ate a lot in order to make up for that. When Nevin informed him of the need to meet at the docks, the other man had nodded and gone to his room to retrieve his belongings. Nevin did the same - and when they had gathered up all their belongings again, Nevin nodded to him and led the way towards the docks where he had been told to meet the.... fox.

It took roughly half an hour since the message had been passed back to Nevin for them to reach the docks, where there was indeed a fox sitting on top of some creates near the entrance to the piers. The small forest creature was dozing in the afternoon sun, and cracked open an eyelid as Nevin approached him. It sat up, stretching and letting out a yawn as it shook itself, then hopped off of the box. It glanced up and down Nevin, then switched its piercing gaze to Sketch, examining him as well. It didn't seem satisfied, or irritated, but neutral, judging them without revealing anything. It twisted its head, jerking it in one direction, then led the way towards a ship moored at one of the piers. The two men followed, Nevin looking around as he tried to figure out just who it was they were trying to meet.

[The Crooked Knight]

So there Sketch was, a master storyteller and summoner of Malefic horrors, visions of terror and occasional rock eating dwarfs, following a fox down a dock. Sketch had to wonder if this was normal for Nevin, getting orders to follow strange animals on wooden piers. The young man must get around.

Sketch had come to the port at the urging of Nevin as they were in the process of acquiring and learning how to fight with weapons. The last time Sketch had seen the Alchemist, they'd experimented with a new sleep drug to help Sketch end his nightmares, and find the metal to make their weapons. Nevin had always been a good friend to Sketch, and he would trust the young man in anything he said he could do, yet Sketch couldn't help but find it strange that the pair were given specific instructions to follow the animal to the ship.

Sketch shrugged the feeling off, he guessed that he wasn't in a position to judge what was normal, he summoned monsters and living nightmares on a regular basis. The whole point of learning how to use a weapon was to relie less on the Grym to help defend himself as he delved into the mysteries surrounding the Living monsters.

As the trio were led towards the ship, Sketch felt a jolt of excitement at the thought of being around real pirates, like the ones from the stories. The romantic notions of swashbuckling and witty retorts crept to his mind bringing a grin to his face.
The ship was gorgeous, not that Sketch had much experience with them.

Nevin and Sketch walked right up to the ship, and suddenly the Fox stopped before going up the ramp leading to the boat. The fox took one last look at the pair, and sat down and yawned, Sketch had to admit that was cute.

[Philomel]

Thump, thump, thump.

She strode down the stairs with the volume of thunder, her head high and long plait flowing like a river in the breeze. In the middle of the walkway Veridian still sat, his back to the sun and the glory of his golden eyes resplendent for all to see. As she came up the height of the ship's edge, and then paused with one foot on the platform that eventually led to the two humans before her, Philomel took in a slow, weary breath.

And carefully, calculatingly, took in the measure of the men.

One was young, with dark eyes and a bald head. He stood with a certain amount of caution as she came up the ramp but no surprise. On his torso was wrapped a drakescale chaser piece. The other man, more middle aged than not, had grey streaks in black hair and even darker eyes than the other. He wore strange garments that Philomel had heard was called a 'suit'. Upon his pale face was a kinder look, but one filled with equal curiousity. They had followed a fox here, one with golden eyes, and been told ... Well, Philomel knew not what they had been told about her; her true nature and abilities.

Thus, she paused, lips pursed slightly, before she continued down the gangway, pausing only to run her fingers through Veridian's fur. She would appear to them, in all her battle finery, as a warrior. Young dragonscale breastplate that covered just beyond her underbust, matched by a titanium chainmail beneath that, covering to her hips. She wore a matching pauldron on her right shoulder as well as titanium gauntlets that shone in the sun. Across her back was a hefty scabbard for a good sized sword and around her waist was a myriad of fabrics holding various other weapons. This was all set off by the noise behind her, where from the grunts and rings of practise swordplay came, concocted up on the ship deck itself.

Veridian the fox let out a soft purr as he was cuddled, and then Philomel went on. She stopped before the men, just off the edge of the walkway and looked from one to the other again.

"Are you the ones Stare sent?" She asked, in a strong and purposeful voice. "If you are then you have come to fight. I am Philomel van der Aart, Matriarch and Captain of this ship. This is my companion, Veridian Ryuusan. He is more than a fox and I am more than a faun. I have fifteen years of battle and teaching behind me."

Resting a hand over a green hilt she paused.

"Let's start with your names, and how the Drys you know Stare ... And then I'll actually decide if your worth my time."

[Nevin]

Nevin stepped forward after taking a minute to take stock of the woman that had approached them. It was very easy to see that she carried herself as a fighter, a commander - her armor and weapon were not just ornate, but functional, and worn with a great degree of familiarity. Her critical eye had already swept over them - he had no idea if they had been found wanting or not, might never know for that matter - and he knew that whoever she was, she could train them to fight. Or knew someone who could, hopefully.

"That would be correct Lady van der Aart. I am... I hope I am someone Stare calls friend.
I am Nevin Aimaparapoiitis, an Alchemist that she met in Stonevale. Through a rather unfortunate encounter, we both became entangled with some unsavory individuals who styled themselves as bounty hunters, as their prisoners. We managed to escape them, but I was untrained in combat, and fear I slowed down her escape." Whether that was true or not, he at least felt that way. He squared his shoulders and set his lips in a thin line.

"I rather thoroughly detest being a burden, so after we were safe, I asked if she knew anyone who could train me in combat. The man beside me is known as Sketch - he has joined me because the village of Stonevale was recently assaulted by Goblins, and wishes to learn to defend himself. At least, that is my understanding of the situation. The bird who is currently gliding over head is Aphrael, my companion." There was a melodic trill from up above as the crow in question felt her partner's attention on her for a moment.

Nevin was, meanwhile, studying Philomel's face. There was something familiar about it. He knew he had never seen the woman before, but for some reason he felt like he had seen her face before. But not quite - the features were not quite right, off from the niggling sense of recognition. It would bother him until he figured it out, but for now he would put it out of his head.

[The Crooked Knight]

Sketch stood in front of the ship, the salt air licking his face. Sketch relished the sensation, he'd never seen the ocean before. The rough hewn wooden dock under his feet swayed slightly under his feet and he could hear the gulls laughing in the distance.

The faun that traversed the walkway in front of them was a beautiful specimen, clad in the scales of dragons and strong, shining chain, straight out of a heroic epic. She didn't cut the traditional figure of a pirate captain that came to mind, but she certainly looked like a formidable warrior. She spoke to the pair with a voice of practiced authority, and the sound of it made Sketch stand straighter.

Nevin introduced himself and answered the captain's questions about someone named "Stare" whom Sketch had never heard of before. At the mention of a prison break, Sketch couldn't help but stare at the man. In the time that he'd known Nevin, he'd never thought of him as a coward, yet he never seemed the overly adventurous sort who'd get into trouble.

Once it was Sketch's turn to introduce himself, he mustered as much respect and dignity as he could, "Captain Van der Art,I am Sketch, Speaker for the Grym," he gave his deepest bow, his hand over his chest in salute. "Never have I heard of a finer vessel since the tale of Varian Stormblessed." He gave the golden eyed fox an equal bow, "The only person I know in this whole situation is Sir Nevin, unfortunately I've never had the pleasure of meeting this "Stare". I however humbally request your tutelage, Mistress. I have journies I must take, and I doubt my chances of survival with my skills as they are currently." Sketch didn't lift his head from the bow until the captain addressed him, trying to keep his voice calm, sincere and dispassionate.

Sketch didn't want to seem like he was groveling, all of his words were more of a form of sincere flattery, truth be told. As things stood, he wouldn't be able to uncover any of the deeper mysteries of the Grym without running into something that could either over power his mindless Grym, or catch him off guard, and he'd be done.

The prospect of the weapon Nevin had designed was something he rather enjoyed. As a blade it'd allow him to defend himself, and the chain would allow him to bind enemies for his Grym. The downside was that such a versatile weapon was just as likely to hurt him if he didn't know what he was doing. Sketch hoped deeply that the pirate captain would allow him to stay and study under her.

[Philomel]

For a short moment Philomel's gaze floated between the two men, taking their introductions into account. Her interest lay mainly with the one who styled himself Nevin - the one who claimed to have been in an event with Stare. She creased her brow, considering the kenku, then the powerful man who she served, and then admitted that like her own self, enemies were likely to be made for them all. It made Nevin an interesting person. If he was embroiled in such things, then he too had to be of some distinct power.

Sketch on the other hands ... Well he mentioned something called 'gryms'. Philomel had no idea what he meant, but she was sure it was particularly pointant. Probably some power or element that she had yet to fight against. Her lips pursed together and she glanced down at Veridian to get his assessment of the time.

Simply, the fox yawned and stretched to his feet.

Yes, he said.

And he twisted with a sweep of his brush tail and leapt up the rest of the ramp to scurry into the ship. Philomel paused a moment, and then sighed.

"You are lucky he likes you," he told both of the men. Lifting a hand from her mythril sword she spread it after the earth-spirit, nodding. "You come up this ramp and you become my students for the time being. You want to learn, you listen, like any of my crew."

She lowered her hand again. "Right now I am taking my sailors through a series of practise maneouvers and lessons. They are basic, but will advance quickly, gearing up to an eventual test against my ... Well. You will see." She looked at them seriously.

"I presume you brought your own weapons. Follow me if you have and you agree to my terms."

And with that, without even looking at them again, she twisted around to ascend the ship ... To come down into the deck full of sword-practise female pirates. The sounds of metal on metal and wood on wood rang in her ears like a melody.

[Nevin]

Nevin took a deep breath and settled his shoulders. Philomel was not quite what he had been expecting from a friend of Stare's - but then again, he really only knew Avis herself, Raevin, and Vitruvion, so he supposed he didn't have much of a barometer to compare the fauness to. She had been brusque, and Nevin still didn't know if she approved of them or not - he was leaning in the direction of 'not' at the moment.

He did still wonder why she seemed familiar. For some reason her face was sticking with him, like he had seen it for an extended period of time. But it still wasn't quite right - the face that was nagging at the back of his mind had never been so cold and commanding. It was disorienting, and the difference in expression combined with the minor differences in facial features was enough that he just could not place it. Not that it mattered for now, but the alchemist knew it would continue to poke the back of his mind until he could solve it.

Still, she had at least accepted them enough to offer them a place on her crew, at least temporarily. That was what was important for now, and what he would focus on. Nevin dropped one hand down to make sure that the whip that he had acquired - not the barbed Plynt whip he intended on having made for actual use, just a bullhide whip - was still strapped to his waist, and nodded to Sketch. That, and a dagger would be the weapons he focused on practicing and learning with - crossbows were just a matter of aim and experience, and his staff had been lost when he was kidnapped by the bounty hunters.

Weapon assured, Nevin took another breath to steady himself. He had been on ships before - had to, to travel to Corone - but this would be the first time he wasn't just a passenger. That done, he strode up the gangplank after Philomel, his steps only hesitating slightly at the sight of the training and combat going on. Well, that was another way he might be able to make himself useful while learning - offering his services in crafting alchemical solutions to help with fatigue or wounds.

Now, to find who he would be reporting to. The Fauness seemed like a busy individual, he doubted she would have the time to train them herself.

[The Crooked Knight]

Sketch checked on the farming sickle and length of chain he'd brought, he couldn't tell if they were particularly good quality weapons, but the sickle didn't feel too heavy in his hand, and he could swing it without difficulty. She agreed to train them, and Sketch wouldn't be found lacking in effort. He wondered who the captain was, he'd never heard stories of a faun captain. She seemed genuinely capable, Sketch figured that was all that mattered.

He wondered at Nevin's historyt as they walked aboard the vessel, he'd never thought to ask the alchemist about his past. He knew that the man was a capable healer, he'd saved lives when a small band of goblins invaded the small mining town of Stonevale, and he had a background in blacksmithing and herbalism. Sketch often caught him at his counter with his head in some book about magic or occultism, he wondered what else the chemist knew. He'd seemed to be genuinely surprised about his Grym, which made Sketch a little sad, as it meant that he most likely didn't know anything about them that Sketch hadn't shown him.

Nevin and Sketch walked up the boarding ramp to the ship, the sounds of the training drills booming out from the ship deck. The crew consisted of females practicing various sword thrusts and slashes. The pair walked up and the sailor leading the training indicated a spot for them to stand and motioned for them to follow along. The crew practiced a long horizontal slash that was suited for the cutlasses that were commonly used by sailors.

As Sketch tried the slash, the instructor walked over to him, 'No, no rookie. If ye swing with yer feet like that, ye'll fall over before ye cut someone. You need to stand with yer feet in a line, and be ready to shift them if ye attack or defend." She taught Sketch various ways to retreat or press forward, focusing on his footwork before trying to educate him on how to use his weapon. Sketch found the information useful, and could definitely see the benefit of learning the footwork first.

He ran through the drills as the rest of the crew focused on the swordplay. The dancing footwork was hard to perform as the ship rocked underneath his feet. He tried to focus on mastering the foot placements as quickly and deftly as he could so he could move on to the next stages of the training. He drowned out everything else but the instructions he was given, wanting to make the most of the time he had. By the end of the first hour, he felt confident in the foot motions and his ability to move around the ship without falling down.