Six String Parrier

[Peacemaker]

All bunnying approved. This thread is now closed. PM me if you wish to join.

The breeze tickled Concordia and swirled through the layer of sparse vegetation. It hummed and accelerated over the open space, breaking on the buildings of Underwood in a cacophony of banging window covers and snapping laundry. Boys and girls who'd stolen their brothers' breeches dotted the thatch and shale rooftops, cleaning gutters and mending seasonal damage. Younger children chased each other about the streets, barefoot despite the lingering nip of winter wind and cautionary calls from matrons in stout woollen dresses. The sun shone strong enough to remind the workers in the fields it was time to plant, but not strong enough they removed their shirts.

"I can't wait wait for leg white season." Rosalie moaned. The young woman's mousy brown hair framed a catlike face, adorable and inquisitive with sharp green eyes. She wore a long brown wool dress and cotton leggings, but had added a slight dip to the dress' neckline following a scandalous Akashiman fashion. The skin it displayed was paler than the snow which had melted only weeks earlier. "I want to just lay in the field naked and drink the sun with my whole body! Good day summer sun! How are you?!!" Rosalie rose from the Dansdel bleachers where she and Duke were seated and spread her arms, eyes squinted as she hugged the great fiery orb as best she could. Several spectators turned their heads with varying reactions. One duelist in the main ring turned his head and got clouted by his opponent as a result.

"Keep yer' wits about yeh laddie, would yeh waste yer' time larkin at a wee lass in battle! Stay sharp Talmanes, you nitwit!" The instructor bawled, a barrel-chested dwarf with a heavy leather tabard and a face full of fiery hair.

Duke smiled and held Rosalie's hand when she sat down, caressing her palm as she massaged the ridge of his wrist. Rosalie called it hand play, but then she had a name for everything she did. To Duke Kasseldown it just felt good. He'd spent the first twenty years of his life working towards becoming a full-fledged lord, toward gaining as much land and influence as he could, much like his peers. It hadn't seemed the right path, more like the only path. Duke glanced at the guitar at his side, dehlar-stringed and crafted from aged redwood. Meeting Rosalie and his other friends, and finding a link to music had showed him a different path. The one where things that felt good mattered more than things that hurt others. Rosalie stopped her hand play and scratched the stubble on his tan chin.

"Why so distant wise eyes?" She leaned in and kissed him fully on the lips, an action that numbed his other senses for a full five seconds. When he could see again he noticed more of the other spectators were glaring. "Be here. Be happy." Rosalie cooed in his ear, lacing her fine fingers around his farmer's biceps.

"I don't think I'm picking up any tips here, Rosie. Can we get back to the market and pick out our seeds?" Duke gathered the remnants of their mid-afternoon meal - three apple cores and the stale end crust from a half loaf of day old bread - and pitched them into the neary woods. He slung his guitar's canvas strap over one shoulder and picked up the bokkan beneath. Much like the wooden weapons wielded by many of the Dansdel warriors, he often practised with it by the stream near his small farm in south-eastern Concordia. The idea of practising by trying to smash the club-like stick into an opponent again and again repelled him.

"Ohhhh, but those two look like they might take their shirts off soon!" Rosalie whined, but she was already joining him, gathering her haversack and pouting her lower lip like a rosebud. As Duke cracked his back, the fighter called Talmanes floored his opponent, drawing a sudden standing ovation from the onlookers. The rise in bodies made Duke stumble into the ring, bokkan in one hand, guitar on his back, long brown hair obscuring his vision.

"You're my next challenger then are yeh?" Talmanes roared, sounding strangely like his instructor.

[CaitieGirl]

“I think he looks more my speed Talmanes!”

Rose smiled to herself as the broad shouldered spectators in front of her turned to see who had raised their voice to challenge him. She dropped to the ground from her perch on a fence and wove her way through the men and women who were watching Talmanes harass the younger man. She wondered why he chose to bully a man who seemed like such a peaceful soul but assumed it had something to do with the musician's beautiful companion. Rose made her way through the crowd looking out of place in the dark hakama pants and cotton shirt she wore in a sea of rougher clothing. She looked more like a shrine maiden than a warrior and though the maiden part was true a raised scar that ran nearly the full length of her neck showed that she was more experienced in combat than in other areas.

She came to stop in front of Talmanes who was at least five inches taller than she was and met his openly hostile gaze. She only knew him well enough to dislike him, but mutual respect, avoidance, and the reputation of a few of her friends kept them out of trouble. Her friendship, for lack of a more accurate word, with the sheriff Breaker Cronen and the fact that she was one of the select few he taught personally made her a rare type of woman in Underwood. It also meant that justice would be swift for those who chose violence outside of the Dansdel. That fact alone had earned her the respect of many and the contempt of some. Talmanes, one of the 'some', looked down at her with his bushy eyebrows raised. “Well if he needs to fight a woman rather than me that's just fine.”

She smiled sweetly at him and ignored the chuckles from the more chauvinistic members of the crowd. Behind her saccharin smile she was fuming. “I notice, Talmanes, that you've never been willing to spar with me, could it be that my reputation precedes me?” She played on the inflated rumours surrounding her encounter with the hordes of Haidia and saw a flicker of shock on the larger man's face. He had never in his life considered that a woman could best him and she knew that. She turned away from him before he had a chance to respond and waltzed through the crowd once more. As she passed Terech Bodorson, the instructor, he passed her a wooden practice sword with a nod. She walked to the middle of the now empty ring enjoying the warm dusty ground under her bare feet then, turning back to the crowd, locked her gaze on the young musician with the bokkan still clutched in one hand. His wide eyes were barely visible through his dark locks but she managed to find them with her own to give him an encouraging smile. She shouldered the sword like a baseball bat, planted her free hand jauntily on her hip, and waited.

[Peacemaker]

Duke passed Rosalie his guitar. The slight girl blew him exaggerated kisses and tried to cling to the disgruntled Talmanes in fear and anticipation. The boorish, broad-shouldered guardsman snorted and sauntered away. Rosalie settled for clinging to the guitar and the wind wrapped her mousy brown hair about the neck. Duke rolled his eyes and shoulders, removed his deerskin vest and tossed it to her then strode into the centre of the arena, making a few practice swings. Rosalie swooned worthy of a character in one of the mush storybooks she bought at rummage sales, and inhaled the vest as if to preserve his scent. Duke laughed so hard he had to lean on his bokkan when she wrinkled her nose as a result and opted to use the weathered leather as a bench cushion instead.

The sun warmed his muscles as he moved his arms and legs to warm them, facing the warrior woman. Even though her breeches clung in a most suggestive fashion, Duke would have preferred to see her leg whites displayed by a short summer dress. Perhaps while she ran barefoot through the fields outside Underwood proper. Not with those high-laced boots tapping the dusty Dansdel ring with impatience. Duke sighed. Rosalie would not let him hear the end (or the beginning) of the matter if he didn't at least give it a go. Gripping the bokkan hilt with both hands, the long-haired youth brought his fists in to his chest and bowed formally to the chestnut haired valkyrie who had chosen him as an opponent. The wind ruffled his simple grey cotton shirtsleeves and slacks, and his stout shoes scraped the rough ground.

"I hope not to harm myself or you, milady." Duke said, trying to hide a smile. Then he strode to her rapidly and thrust the tip of his wooden sword straight at her breastbone.

[CaitieGirl]

Rose watched the comical exchange between her opponent and his brunette companion with a smile. The girl was being intentionally ridiculous and didn't care one bit what the rest of the crowd thought. Rose envied her confidence but as she watched the musician come toward her she thought perhaps other girls envied her. Not many women in Underwood got to see so many rugged men topless while retaining their reputations.

She had just enough time to nod in respect and notice that her opponent's smirk was reminiscent of her friend Jake's before she was forced to throw her self back, twisting her torso to avoid his sword which had been on a course to give her a wicked bruise on the collar bone. She brought her own wooden sword up from her side with both hands. The blades met with a crack and the young man's arm was forced to the side leaving a wide expanse of his cotton-covered chest vulnerable. Instead of taking advantage of this Rose intentionally ignored it, feigning a beginner's mistake. She hoped he would notice and underestimate her. Rose backed up holding her weapon, so similar to his, in front of her.

He came at her again this time aiming for her stomach. Again she knocked his sword away, this time down towards the ground. She stepped on his blade and aimed a kick for his chin but he was quick. Instead of panicking and moving backwards as she expected he dropped and yanked his weapon from beneath her foot. She stumbled backwards and he came up swiftly from where he knelt. He rammed the pommel of his weapon into her stomach and swept her feet out from under her. There were cheers of encouragement from the men in the crowd and a throaty whoop that she assumed came from the melodramatic girl in the stands. It wasn't only Talmanes' chauvinist tendencies she'd challenged. And it would appear her opponent was not so easily fooled.

From the ground Rose dodged the wooden blade aimed for her chest by rolling towards the man holding it. His blade struck dust rather than flesh and he was forced to back away or be knocked down himself. Her sword still held in one hand she ended up on her knees and in a fluid motion was standing again, still advancing. Smiling through his dark hair her rival parried every attack she sent his way. His arms were clearly stronger than hers and she wondered what exactly she had gotten herself into.

[Peacemaker]

Duke gulped air through his mouth and nose, striving to lock stick-blades with his opponent so his size would be of some use. The girl moved like a cat and handled her weapon with ingrained finesse. The peacemaker learned that fencing with trees and shrubs was far different from a live opponent, learned it well as his footsteps and form faltered, and he choked on the dust their feet kicked up. The air seemed alive with catcalls from the watchers and the thrum of the chestnut haired swordmaid's blade. Duke's footsteps and form faltered, and a thrust from his opponent's bokkan slammed his shortribs like a hammer on a dulcimer.

The denim seat of Duke's pants hit the dirt, followed by his skull as he curled over the injury. A roaring like the inside of a conch shell drowned out the crowd sound. One blow, and all of his nimbleness was forgotten. Duke sucked another lungful of dust as soft hands touched his side, cradled his head. Four hands? He closed his pasty mouth and inhaled through his nose. It smelled like he was in a garden. Duke blinked, and then a third pair of hands, rough and strong, picked him up and set him on his feet, shaking him twice in the process.

"There ya're lad!" Terech Bodorson bellowed in his face. Ordinarily the dwarf would have been talking to Duke's sternum, but the non-combative young man was still doubled over, right hand clutching his bruised ribs. "Yeh'll live to fight another day." Bodorson turned toward the jeering crowd as Rosalie and the mysterious club-wielding valkyrie supported Duke to the shade of a nearby tree between them. "There must be a dozen weaponmasters watching this exhibition, from the words I've heard! Who wants a proper duel with the Master of Ravenheart Academy then?" Weapon less and unarmored, Bodorson stood in the middle of the ring with hands on hips. "Talmanes, what about you?"

Duke was finally catching his breath. The soothing sound of leaves dancing with the wind brought him back from a place of pain and confusion. The girl who had felled him hovered nearby, apologizing, probably not for the first time. Duke shuddered as Rosalie, curled protectively against his side, touched the swollen red area just above his right hip.

"... you changed direction and came forward just as I attacked," the valkyrie was saying, wringing her callused hands, the practice sword forgotten in the ring. Duke glanced past her and saw the fiery-haired dwarf suplex an armored soldier through a fence several archers were firing over. The archers took it as a matter of course, working together to reset the barrier and resuming their marksmanship. "My name is Rose Vasston," the young woman finished, absentmindedly taming her hair back into its ties.

"Duke and Rosalie," the nymph-like woman on his arm chimed. "Pleased to meet you Rose. Together we make a bouquet." She patted the ground next to her invitingly. Duke smiled, fumbling in his coat (which Rosalie had kindly returned) for a joint and a book of matches. He selected one rolled on yew papers, a minty greenhouse indican strain that originated in the spice fields of Fallien. His fingers fluttered like seedlings on the wind, and the lit cigarette appeared in his mouth, a plume of therapeutic smoke sliding into his lungs and out his nostrils in twin spirals.

"Dragon!" Rosalie giggled, nipping at the smoke before the breeze made it nothing. Duke chuckled, then winced, and leaned back against the friendly thick-trunked rywan. He took a second, longer drag while watching Bodorson hold two fresh opponents down and beat them with each others legs. Duke chuckled again, more carefully this time.

"I'm no fighter," he said, running a hand through the luscious snarls of Rosalie's mousy brown hair. She was offering the joint to Rose Vasston as he put his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. The bird and forest song mingled with the cries of dismay from Bodorson's opponents, making a lullaby that threatened to drag him to sleep.

[CaitieGirl]

Seeing Duke recovering from the blow he'd received lifted some of the guilt Rose felt. She had only challenged him because Talmanes would not have gone easy on him and now she had done him damage anyway. He seemed fine now. He seemed content to lean his head against his tree and run one hand through Rosalie's hair and down her neck. The two shared a sensual closeness that made Rose blush. She'd seen worse in the Promenade, of course, but something about the way they acted made them seem more like one person than two, like she was intruding on a private conversation.

Rosalie came out of her cat-like stupor long enough to hold out the cigarette. Rose took it hesitantly. She'd never really understood the appeal of the stuff. She'd heard her friend Jake talk about Rasdanthian reefer, even Breaker once, but she'd never seen them smoke it. From what she could tell it just made people light headed and silly. But truthfully, she could use some silliness right now. The war was on everyone's mind and she had no idea whether the town where she grew up was even still there. She hadn't been home since coming here to train. It felt like a lifetime ago. She had no access to the kind of information she knew flooded into Underwood every day, and that intelligence was not always reliable. Everyone here was worried, and discord tends to breed in troubled times. The woodland town had expanded three-fold in not very much time. The change was wearing on both the forest and the people.

In a quiet corner, bathed in sunlight and surrounded by nature, it seemed like a good idea to try something she hadn't before. The people she was with seemed to be too busy enjoying life to care whether she took part or not. She shrugged, as if to dismiss her actions, and dragged a dose of smoke into her virgin lungs. The coughing fit that ensued set Rosalie laughing but eventually drew her away from her other patient to rub Rose's back sympathetically. Once she could breath Rose saw, through watery eyes, that Duke had roused himself to watch her progress. His head was tilted to one side, sending his hair into his eyes again. She responded to his silent inquiry with an embarrassed smile and another small shrug. When he held out his hand she passed the cigarette back to him. She watched him take another drag, seeing his obvious pleasure in the act, wondering what she had been doing wrong.

“First time?” He asked, exhaling another lungful of smoke as he did. The way he handled the words made her blush scarlet again. Rosalie leapt to her defense, scolding Duke good-naturedly until he raised his hands, palms forward to signal his retreat. When she had quieted he leaned his head back and closed his eyes again. Rosalie took the joint from Duke and raised it to her lips, settling back next to him. It was then that Rose realized that, whether due to the company or the smoke, she was feeling much better.