It was amazing how the pacing of the people aboard the deck slowed down so much in such little time all because of one command. If there was a best example of the term ‘at ease’, this had to be it. It was no question that perhaps the event itself this day would be talked, joked, and bragged about for the next few nights in the mess hall. A lot had happened in that simple drill.
The metal plates on Forty-three were sewn to his skin in a manner that was very precise and was probably done at the hands of a sophisticated chirurgeon. Perhaps someone he knew back in Sharlaya. He was too vain, and perhaps too concerned for his scalp to have shaved his head after those plates. So what resulted was locks that hovered over the plates on the side of his skull which hid the pieces of metal over a light Auburn curtain. It was one of these plates where on both sides the skin was welted but the plate was not bent or dented in any way. This was where the Lalafell got smashed in the face.
“Oh thank you. But you only did what you thought you had to.†Forty-three said, gently taking his hand and allowing himself the assist to get back up on his feet. He gave himself a little shiver and rubbed up his arms with his own hands to calm himself, glancing up at the two individuals in front of him. “Sometimes I realize just how much more difficult it is to pace yourself with spells when you do not have a channeler. I believe all magi have their moments when they understand how much they rely on their staff or stave or what have you.†Because his head was aching, the lalafell place a concerned hand upon the side of his head. “Perhaps in the past I could be able to stand a blow like this before my … well, these plates see? Magic can always be just as dangerous to the user as to his enemies.†He said quite clearly with a sigh, speaking slowly because of the throbbing pain. “Now then… how about I… make some tea for everyone after my check up? Before I get chewed out by my superior?â€
Eighty-five was as still as a statue. She had that one arm over her head, and she was completely still right in the spot where Jada laid her out on her ass. Ah well, at least she was able to get in a few hits herself? Yes, that was right! Jada’s face didn’t look the same! Take that you! Still, it wasn’t enough to remove the rather exaggerated frown on her face. Her temperamental mentality of being the best bitch in the business had been overruled by a quartermaster. Sheesh.
But she didn’t hate her or anything. On the contrary, she thoroughly enjoyed the contest despite losing in the end. When Jada asked her the golden question, the frown turned into a devilish smirk. “Hmph! Of course I can!†She retorted, swinging the arm off of her face and rolling onto her knees, dusting off her shoulders and giving her a thumbs up. “Your hand-to-hand is like my mirror, like you’re a sister from another life or something! So I’ll declare right now: anytime, anyplace, rematch!†She exclaimed, balling that same hand up in a fist and smiling through the bit of blood on her lip towards the other woman. “And I’ll make sure to keep you alive until that time comes, sister!â€
The leader of the splinter faction was surveying the scene around him. If it was not for this being Sounsyy's, he would be the one calling the orders. Sometimes it was challenging to avoid that instinct. But he knew his place for now, and kept his mouth closed. Instead of shouting orders, he focused on examining, by visual, the well-being of each member of his crew. It was customary for each member of the unit, when they first meet, to explain to the assigned squad leader of any unusual ailments or conditions they might be privy to, such as the vulnerability of Forty-three’s head. While there were several beads of sweat on him, the man did not seem too tired at all.
For him, it was a switch. The warrior came, the warrior dealt, the warrior was gone, and Jonathan was back. His rugged smile reawakened in the presence of the Captain’s flattery. To Sounsyy, his facial expression was radically different from the one she had seen during her fight with him. In subtle ways. “So. We share a common homeland, do we? This is interesting.†He murmured, with a stroke or two of his chin. “You will find that the remembrance of our people will climax with the return of our city to its rightful hands. However, that is neither of our intentions at this moment in time. I was raised from the fire and ashes of war, and was tasked with shaping soldiers into pillars of steel.†He made a thinking hum from his lips after hinting at his past as a drill instructor. “However, this is different from open war. And as you know, sister, it requires different methods of shaping.â€
Jonathan did not line his men up and scream at them anymore. He did not try to break them anymore. That part of him was mildly humbled after he was captured by the Garleans. After what they did to him and what they made him do. When he had escaped, with nothing to show for it except for hundreds of well-placed permanent cutting scars all over his body deeming from past experiences of torture, he had grown weary of distancing himself from his own humanity. He had turned away from that life after so many years of being molded into an absolute killing machine, until he was called back to serve the greater good again. This time here. “You set an extremely high bar for my men to meet. We WILL meet it. But in the end, that is why Sharlaya picked this crew. It promotes pushing one another to be the best they can be. We will need that practice and encouragement to weed out our flaws. Now you have a much better sense of what those flaws are, Captain. I expect you to assist us in phasing them out.â€
Meanwhile, the young Veanysus tried to focus his vision until the blurriness went away. It was only the soothing touch of Cwaenlona’s care that finally made his heart rate go down. The blood stopped a minute or two after, and he closed his aquamarine eyes. There wasn’t much to dwell on what happened, as memories during times of strife was one of the more difficult ones to recall in vivid detail.
He was tired. Sore. The cuts that had been given to him during the vicious fighting were still burning, and that kept him from becoming drowsy over his fatigue.
His breaths were loud, but calm. He was not stubborn to be given care by Cwaenlona like some young men would. He fully welcomed her methods. Ryanti cared much about his body, and never wanted it to forsake it because of pride. He could taste his blood as he swallowed while his head was tilted back. It tasted like warm, salted iron. It disgusted him to a degree, but also let him know that he tried his best. His arms felt very cold being rubbed down, but he didn’t want to see the blood on them again and smell that smell. He preferred not to.
“Thank you Cwaenlona. You’re like an angel.†He said to her quietly and with sincerity after she patched up his most grievous wound and wiped the dried blood off of his arms. The maintenance on his cuts had to wait for the infirmary, but the piece of gauze taped to his nose would take care of that wound. A few calm breaths later, and a gust of wind with more energy than usual flung his dampened hair about, but did not affect the stare of his vibrant eyes towards the darkening clouds over the horizon. “A … storm is coming… isn’t it?†He murmured to the medic as several other members of the crew helped him up to his feet with a little bit of help from the young man himself. “I will be ready. For anything that comes my way.†He said after, in a combination of reassuring them, and reassuring himself.
Jonathan squinted his eyes and examined the young man from where Sounsyy was after she made the comment about him being sick, which immediately raised a cause for concern in the Ala Mhigan’s eyes. The word sick was not treated by that unit lightly. Rarely did the word sick ever mean a normal illness in their line of work, and one of Jonathan’s important jobs was to make sure the kind of sickness he was thinking of would never happen.
“You told me before that he challenged you on his own time.†Jonathan mentioned, and after a brief pause he continued. “He must have done so before he was cleared. Our Keepers are the most vulnerable to the side effects that come with handling artifacts that are thick with the residual energy of the past. Sometimes the aether like to leak into the skin and take refuge within the body. We are only made to carry so much within ourselves. If too much foreign aether takes hold within the body, they become saturated with aether and become aethersick. It is still not fully understood what it exactly does to the body, but what we know, thank the Twelve, is that if one simply spends time away from this occupation, the aether tends to dissipate over time, and the body is able to fully recover. That is the primary reason why we have large gaps of time off, among other things. It is a decent return for how dangerous this is.â€
Jonathan took the waterskin from the happy little Qiqirn and watched the go-lucky individual hand them out to the group where Ryanti was, who seemed very happy at receiving some water. Of course the person who was the most happy was Eighty-five, who hugged the giddy creature. “He disobeyed orders by fighting you the first time. He was not fully recovered. In most cases, becoming aethersick can drain you of energy if you physically exert yourself. But that is not always the case. Sometimes it is the opposite.†He let out a little snort. “Reminds me of how I was, actually. He values people over governments. Ideals over orders on paper. Most Keepers tend to be that way. They are the only ones in our branch that volunteer to be in it.â€
The older man watched as Ryanti began speaking to the others that he had fought. He was complementing them, and asking questions about their methods of fighting and tips about how he could do better against them. He was also shaking their hands, making sure to do so to everyone he crossed paths with during the drill before being urged to get to the infirmary, wincing a bit at the pain of his open cuts upon the open air. Jonathan spoke as Sounsyy kept her eyes on him. “You have nothing to fear, Captain. He is not sick. The first sign to look for is if the very blood in his veins become illuminated. When his veins light up. That is the first symptom. I see no such thing on him. It is also incredibly rare for that sickness to return on just one mission. It takes several chains of missions before it begins to come back.â€
He smirked a little bit. “He just fought a little harder than his body was prepared for. His focus could use some work, and he got really sloppy at the end, but he showed a lot of heart. Did you say something to him earlier?â€
As Ryanti was being guided to the infirmary, he eyed Sounsyy Mirke one last time. The corner of his lips curled into a bit of a smile, but his eyes had defiance in them. When he turned his gaze away, he became despondent. Softly, he asked the medic as he was stepping down the steps “Am I still just a boy to this crew? Is that all I am to her?â€
The metal plates on Forty-three were sewn to his skin in a manner that was very precise and was probably done at the hands of a sophisticated chirurgeon. Perhaps someone he knew back in Sharlaya. He was too vain, and perhaps too concerned for his scalp to have shaved his head after those plates. So what resulted was locks that hovered over the plates on the side of his skull which hid the pieces of metal over a light Auburn curtain. It was one of these plates where on both sides the skin was welted but the plate was not bent or dented in any way. This was where the Lalafell got smashed in the face.
“Oh thank you. But you only did what you thought you had to.†Forty-three said, gently taking his hand and allowing himself the assist to get back up on his feet. He gave himself a little shiver and rubbed up his arms with his own hands to calm himself, glancing up at the two individuals in front of him. “Sometimes I realize just how much more difficult it is to pace yourself with spells when you do not have a channeler. I believe all magi have their moments when they understand how much they rely on their staff or stave or what have you.†Because his head was aching, the lalafell place a concerned hand upon the side of his head. “Perhaps in the past I could be able to stand a blow like this before my … well, these plates see? Magic can always be just as dangerous to the user as to his enemies.†He said quite clearly with a sigh, speaking slowly because of the throbbing pain. “Now then… how about I… make some tea for everyone after my check up? Before I get chewed out by my superior?â€
Eighty-five was as still as a statue. She had that one arm over her head, and she was completely still right in the spot where Jada laid her out on her ass. Ah well, at least she was able to get in a few hits herself? Yes, that was right! Jada’s face didn’t look the same! Take that you! Still, it wasn’t enough to remove the rather exaggerated frown on her face. Her temperamental mentality of being the best bitch in the business had been overruled by a quartermaster. Sheesh.
But she didn’t hate her or anything. On the contrary, she thoroughly enjoyed the contest despite losing in the end. When Jada asked her the golden question, the frown turned into a devilish smirk. “Hmph! Of course I can!†She retorted, swinging the arm off of her face and rolling onto her knees, dusting off her shoulders and giving her a thumbs up. “Your hand-to-hand is like my mirror, like you’re a sister from another life or something! So I’ll declare right now: anytime, anyplace, rematch!†She exclaimed, balling that same hand up in a fist and smiling through the bit of blood on her lip towards the other woman. “And I’ll make sure to keep you alive until that time comes, sister!â€
The leader of the splinter faction was surveying the scene around him. If it was not for this being Sounsyy's, he would be the one calling the orders. Sometimes it was challenging to avoid that instinct. But he knew his place for now, and kept his mouth closed. Instead of shouting orders, he focused on examining, by visual, the well-being of each member of his crew. It was customary for each member of the unit, when they first meet, to explain to the assigned squad leader of any unusual ailments or conditions they might be privy to, such as the vulnerability of Forty-three’s head. While there were several beads of sweat on him, the man did not seem too tired at all.
For him, it was a switch. The warrior came, the warrior dealt, the warrior was gone, and Jonathan was back. His rugged smile reawakened in the presence of the Captain’s flattery. To Sounsyy, his facial expression was radically different from the one she had seen during her fight with him. In subtle ways. “So. We share a common homeland, do we? This is interesting.†He murmured, with a stroke or two of his chin. “You will find that the remembrance of our people will climax with the return of our city to its rightful hands. However, that is neither of our intentions at this moment in time. I was raised from the fire and ashes of war, and was tasked with shaping soldiers into pillars of steel.†He made a thinking hum from his lips after hinting at his past as a drill instructor. “However, this is different from open war. And as you know, sister, it requires different methods of shaping.â€
Jonathan did not line his men up and scream at them anymore. He did not try to break them anymore. That part of him was mildly humbled after he was captured by the Garleans. After what they did to him and what they made him do. When he had escaped, with nothing to show for it except for hundreds of well-placed permanent cutting scars all over his body deeming from past experiences of torture, he had grown weary of distancing himself from his own humanity. He had turned away from that life after so many years of being molded into an absolute killing machine, until he was called back to serve the greater good again. This time here. “You set an extremely high bar for my men to meet. We WILL meet it. But in the end, that is why Sharlaya picked this crew. It promotes pushing one another to be the best they can be. We will need that practice and encouragement to weed out our flaws. Now you have a much better sense of what those flaws are, Captain. I expect you to assist us in phasing them out.â€
Meanwhile, the young Veanysus tried to focus his vision until the blurriness went away. It was only the soothing touch of Cwaenlona’s care that finally made his heart rate go down. The blood stopped a minute or two after, and he closed his aquamarine eyes. There wasn’t much to dwell on what happened, as memories during times of strife was one of the more difficult ones to recall in vivid detail.
He was tired. Sore. The cuts that had been given to him during the vicious fighting were still burning, and that kept him from becoming drowsy over his fatigue.
His breaths were loud, but calm. He was not stubborn to be given care by Cwaenlona like some young men would. He fully welcomed her methods. Ryanti cared much about his body, and never wanted it to forsake it because of pride. He could taste his blood as he swallowed while his head was tilted back. It tasted like warm, salted iron. It disgusted him to a degree, but also let him know that he tried his best. His arms felt very cold being rubbed down, but he didn’t want to see the blood on them again and smell that smell. He preferred not to.
“Thank you Cwaenlona. You’re like an angel.†He said to her quietly and with sincerity after she patched up his most grievous wound and wiped the dried blood off of his arms. The maintenance on his cuts had to wait for the infirmary, but the piece of gauze taped to his nose would take care of that wound. A few calm breaths later, and a gust of wind with more energy than usual flung his dampened hair about, but did not affect the stare of his vibrant eyes towards the darkening clouds over the horizon. “A … storm is coming… isn’t it?†He murmured to the medic as several other members of the crew helped him up to his feet with a little bit of help from the young man himself. “I will be ready. For anything that comes my way.†He said after, in a combination of reassuring them, and reassuring himself.
Jonathan squinted his eyes and examined the young man from where Sounsyy was after she made the comment about him being sick, which immediately raised a cause for concern in the Ala Mhigan’s eyes. The word sick was not treated by that unit lightly. Rarely did the word sick ever mean a normal illness in their line of work, and one of Jonathan’s important jobs was to make sure the kind of sickness he was thinking of would never happen.
“You told me before that he challenged you on his own time.†Jonathan mentioned, and after a brief pause he continued. “He must have done so before he was cleared. Our Keepers are the most vulnerable to the side effects that come with handling artifacts that are thick with the residual energy of the past. Sometimes the aether like to leak into the skin and take refuge within the body. We are only made to carry so much within ourselves. If too much foreign aether takes hold within the body, they become saturated with aether and become aethersick. It is still not fully understood what it exactly does to the body, but what we know, thank the Twelve, is that if one simply spends time away from this occupation, the aether tends to dissipate over time, and the body is able to fully recover. That is the primary reason why we have large gaps of time off, among other things. It is a decent return for how dangerous this is.â€
Jonathan took the waterskin from the happy little Qiqirn and watched the go-lucky individual hand them out to the group where Ryanti was, who seemed very happy at receiving some water. Of course the person who was the most happy was Eighty-five, who hugged the giddy creature. “He disobeyed orders by fighting you the first time. He was not fully recovered. In most cases, becoming aethersick can drain you of energy if you physically exert yourself. But that is not always the case. Sometimes it is the opposite.†He let out a little snort. “Reminds me of how I was, actually. He values people over governments. Ideals over orders on paper. Most Keepers tend to be that way. They are the only ones in our branch that volunteer to be in it.â€
The older man watched as Ryanti began speaking to the others that he had fought. He was complementing them, and asking questions about their methods of fighting and tips about how he could do better against them. He was also shaking their hands, making sure to do so to everyone he crossed paths with during the drill before being urged to get to the infirmary, wincing a bit at the pain of his open cuts upon the open air. Jonathan spoke as Sounsyy kept her eyes on him. “You have nothing to fear, Captain. He is not sick. The first sign to look for is if the very blood in his veins become illuminated. When his veins light up. That is the first symptom. I see no such thing on him. It is also incredibly rare for that sickness to return on just one mission. It takes several chains of missions before it begins to come back.â€
He smirked a little bit. “He just fought a little harder than his body was prepared for. His focus could use some work, and he got really sloppy at the end, but he showed a lot of heart. Did you say something to him earlier?â€
As Ryanti was being guided to the infirmary, he eyed Sounsyy Mirke one last time. The corner of his lips curled into a bit of a smile, but his eyes had defiance in them. When he turned his gaze away, he became despondent. Softly, he asked the medic as he was stepping down the steps “Am I still just a boy to this crew? Is that all I am to her?â€