Although his face remained obscured under the shadows of his cloak, Tyonis was reasonably surprised by the boy’s hardiness. A blow to the back of the neck would have easily knocked out most grown men. Granted, the Mongrel held back to avoid snapping the Mi’qote’s spine; self-control was not something the swordsman was accustomed to - it was possible he held back too much. Instead of immediately pouncing on the weakened Mi’qote, Tyonis let the boy recover before closing the distance again, as if to reward the Mi’qote’s admirable fortitude.
However, once the thief turned to face him, Tyonis advanced, a wooden mace already drawn. He held it idly at his side as he closed the distance, but quickly came to a halt, his stance shifting readily. His eyes narrowed and his arm tensed in anticipation as Tyonis sensed Aether gather around the boy’s finger.
“A mage?†Tyonis hisses angrily. His voice is rough, like unrefined steel against a grindstone. “I should have just run you through.â€
He clicks his tongue in annoyance as a ball of energy appears between them and condenses into a small, blue, fox-like creature with a shining gem embedded in its forehead. It mimicked the intent of its charge, and their affinity was almost endearing. A crowd began to gather around them, intrigued by the show and fascinated by the Miqo’te’s magical familiar. The nostalgic scene reminded Tyonis of his life on the Bloodsands, fighting for his life as a gladiator. It was during this slight remiss that Tyonis recognized the glint of accustomed desperation in the Miqo'te's eyes. It was an expression he often wore back on Ul'dah's streets.
Off in the distance, he could hear the angry shouts of Limsa Lominsa’s Yellow Jackets closing in. In truth, all Tyonis had to do was keep the Miqo’te here until Limsa’s guardsmen came to finish the job. The Mongrel held the mace aloft, acknowledging the boy’s will to fight.
“Come.â€
OOC: Sure I don't mind!
However, once the thief turned to face him, Tyonis advanced, a wooden mace already drawn. He held it idly at his side as he closed the distance, but quickly came to a halt, his stance shifting readily. His eyes narrowed and his arm tensed in anticipation as Tyonis sensed Aether gather around the boy’s finger.
“A mage?†Tyonis hisses angrily. His voice is rough, like unrefined steel against a grindstone. “I should have just run you through.â€
He clicks his tongue in annoyance as a ball of energy appears between them and condenses into a small, blue, fox-like creature with a shining gem embedded in its forehead. It mimicked the intent of its charge, and their affinity was almost endearing. A crowd began to gather around them, intrigued by the show and fascinated by the Miqo’te’s magical familiar. The nostalgic scene reminded Tyonis of his life on the Bloodsands, fighting for his life as a gladiator. It was during this slight remiss that Tyonis recognized the glint of accustomed desperation in the Miqo'te's eyes. It was an expression he often wore back on Ul'dah's streets.
Off in the distance, he could hear the angry shouts of Limsa Lominsa’s Yellow Jackets closing in. In truth, all Tyonis had to do was keep the Miqo’te here until Limsa’s guardsmen came to finish the job. The Mongrel held the mace aloft, acknowledging the boy’s will to fight.
“Come.â€
OOC: Sure I don't mind!
