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300+
For the duration of her re-introduction back into the tribe lands, her presence remained lingering about the region of Grandfather's Tears. Remaining here for the fact that the springs provided a cool reliable source for water and bathing (especially after her journey; talk about not holding the tradition feminine needs! For a second she honestly thought she was turning into a messy adolescent male!), fish and plentiful wildlife to prey upon, and for the fact that her trusted equine was quite winded and exhausted from their journey, so sticking to the springs was a good idea for the fact that the equine could drink, cool off, and graze when needed.
With russet pelt damp after a refreshing dip in one of the more deeper pools of the spring, the fiery red headed yearling was situated on one of the banks; sitting in the grasses, knees raised and outstretched in front of her. Within her grasp she was wielding what was a makeshift sort of wooden spear, collected by semi heavy tree branches that had either been broken off or naturally fell off with time (there was a collection of two others at her side, different shapes and sizes). Its pointed end was incredibly dull, however, so no real fine thrusting could mortally damage any mock assailant that came her way. The rest of the elongated base was thick and sturdy, however; good quality of wood that could hit its target and remain unbreakable. Asha was certainly no craftsman, but knew several basic tricks of the trade to make simple weaponry from when she was only six months old. Her profession could have been one making such said tools and weaponry, but, Asha was more proficient with putting said things to use. For someone who was naturally dainty, her small hands were quite quick, and her delicate wrists fluid in sudden jerking motions.
Her little makeshift weapon for the day, it was nothing special. Its underlying purpose was mainly for spearing fish for a meal this afternoon, but the point end was so dull that she didn't think she could modify it to be as sharp as she wanted. The base was strong enough to wield as a long club like weapon, maybe she could strike down a fast moving hare. It would surely find purpose with whatever it was destined to use, as she was shaving out the base with a sharp rock. Biting her lip, her soft amber eyes concentrated on tailoring this long and skinny piece of wood, ever so often bringing her gaze up to Aiden and checking upon his current status by the springs.
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 Thanks for starting!
WORLDS WE HAVE NOT KNOWN
Once again, Hemming's feet had dragged him to Grandfather's Tears. There was a strange allure to the place, one that the male would attribute to the music playing the first time he had wandered in. His mind kept subconsciously prodding him in the direction of the springs, and as he wandered he half expected to hear the gentle lift and fall of the lute again, as if it was the music of the trees and not of a fellow mortal. Alas, the forest was quiet save for the chirping of birds and the distant trickle of water.
Even without the music, the beauty of the place drew him in. Stepping over thick roots that snaked their way through the bronze soil, Hemming let a hand drift across tree trunks as he passed them. Their height was remarkable, and the male pondered their age as his golden eyes tried to reach their tips. Above the trees, loose clouds were drifting by, but Hemming was oblivious; the sky was all but blocked out by the thick canopy that shaded him.
The trickling of water was getting louder, and, just like every time he came here, Hemming felt like a trepid explorer. Such dense forest seemed to make his thoughts more whimsical than usual (which was saying something) and he was quite susceptible to fantasy. These reasons, perhaps, could justify his reaction to the sight he set his eyes on as he entered the clearing, though it was likely that it would've been the same anywhere.
"Ah! A noble steed! And you, your Grace! What is it that's demanding your attention?" he exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air and taking a few energetic steps towards the stranger before stopping. The words had slipped out without even consulting his brain, but he would go with it. An approach like that would usually only be employed on someone he had at least met once, someone who understood that he wasn't crazy but merely strange.
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No problem. ^^ 300+
Asha had took to attempting to shave the sharper end, holding the sharply edged rock closely as her arms worked with effort to shave as much as she could off on an angle, until suddenly a voice made its presence known, and instantly did the rock fall from her grasp and she slightly jumped; too lost in her concentration to have seen him coming. With her soft amber gaze looking up, there stood a tawny and golden male who uttered some sort of interesting yet strangely put words; to otherwise say vocabulary and grammar that was taken aback in confusion. Casting a look over her shoulder, she made certain that he wasn't addressing anyone else (even though it was a given he was clearly talking to her in that strangely put sentence). Putting the slab of stick down now, her tail behind her thumped a couple beats upon the moist Earth. Her equine that wasn't too far away seemed to notice the appearance of the male, and waving his long lustrous tail, gave a gentle neigh.
There were two things to depict from this. One, he was probably joking around with the manner he came at her, or two, he was slightly off. And just what if he was slightly off? It didn't particularly mean it was a bad trait, not in the least! Demented folk were surely a spectacle to behold on their own accord, not to mention playing along with them at their own game! The rest of him didn't seem to be off in any sense. Grace, huh? Asha liked the sound of that. "Grace, eh? Well, if you want to put it that way..." She trailed off to herself, a wolfish grin now spread upon the width of her muzzle. There was something that instantly stuck this male as compelling to her, and so in the manner that he addressed her, why not jump into character and do something of the similar sort? Match slightly different with just as different, no? "Ah, but I am only but a mere lass, removeth once from my kingdom, now returneth and seeking redemption and solitudeth. What brings thou here, humble cavalier?" Her voice had spoken in the most regal tone she could muster (in all seriousness, mind you!), and tacked on the "eth" endings to sound even more like one who spoke from such a time era. There was a peculiar fire of mischief that sparked in her gaze, one that told that this was going to be an interesting encounter indeed. Asha certainly wasn't a fan of static initiations.
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The rock that the female had been holding clunked against another on the ground, and Hemming felt a little sheepish for surprising her. She seemed game, though, and the gray male could only be pleased that he didn't cause her to run away. He hadn't made anyone do that in his short time in AniWaya, but it was sure to happen someday as he continued to grow bolder and bolder. The fact that his acquaintance replied in a good imitation of the Victorian language that he had utilized made him practically giddy.
Grinning, he took a few more steps forward, giving a little bow. "I am but a humble page. But I dream..." he reached out to the side and grasped a greyed, dead stick that was still attached to a tree close by as if he was shaking its hand, and in one swift motion he pulled it off and held it up to the sky with a flourish, sticking out his chest and tilting his chin upwards, "To be king!" Of course this was complete fantasy; Hemming wanted nothing to do with any sort of important leadership position at all. Though the other's tale could certainly be true, he wouldn't assume so. He took it for granted that the other wouldn't completely believe him either.
Hemming had practically never played a game such as this with anyone before. As a pup, he had been rather isolated from anyone else his age, and the adults didn't seem to think that such folly was at all productive. In the past few years, while he lived alone, he had ran through a few plays by himself, but it never made the blood pump the way this encounter did. Having missed the opportunity to interact this way as a youngster, he would spend his adulthood filling that hole. Who said make-believe was just for kids?
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400+
Watching his regal presentation as he played his part perfectly in a graceful bow, Asha couldn’t help but hold back soft laughter, although the smile on her muzzle was wide with amusement. This male, he had not been around before she left, it was a certain fact. Asha could only remember a handful of the members that were present when AniWaya first settled into these particular lands, but Asha had to give it to her Agidoda, Dawali, that he certainly chose some peculiar and intriguing outsiders to become part of the tribe. Better to have those who dream they’re in the Victorian age than someone who’s a bore! Her eyebrows raised in entertainment as he successfully snatched off a branch from a nearby tree, seeing how effortless he had done so and proclaiming his aspiration and dream to be king one day. Asha put a hand to her mouth, holding in a snicker. Snickering not for the fact that it was his inspiration to become king, but how amusing his role play was to her.
Nodding in compliance with an ahhh, I see look, her head tilted to the side for a moment. “Does this humble page have a good name to himself?” She questioned, and if he chose to not reveal his real name just yet, Asha would be fine on role playing along past it. “Your Grace and Lady is Asha Amara, my loyal Steed Sir Aiden.” She addressed, giving a respectful bow of her muzzle. Man, she was really getting into this! If this humble page destined to be king one day, then surely he would have to be a nobleman who endured plenty of feats, had the strategy of the gods, and was ruthless. Grabbing the stick that she was shaping, Asha stood up in a fluid motion effortlessly. She held the stick in both of her hands, twirling it in her grasp. “So you wisheth to be king? I taketh thou endured perilous trials of impossible feats, courageous adventure, mastery of strategy?” An eyebrow quirked again, gesturing if this was indeed factual. “A king could not simply be given thou title lest not born unto a royal family, but for the humble page, one must thou put forth proving effort to do so.” And it was there that she declared to be shown of such skills he had, if he destined to be king.
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Hemming lowered the twig, twirling it around his fingers, and put his other hand on his hip. His eyes, leaving the bright sky, took a moment to adjust to the relative dimness of the clearing. "Ah, 'tis not a good name, but 'tis a name — Hemming. Thrilled to make your acquaintance, Lady Asha, and yours, kind sir." He bowed twice more, once to the wolf and then to the horse, as he spoke. Sir Aiden had more royal bones in his body than did the male wolf, and it wasn't just due to anatomical differences. He would get his right respect, as well, and Hemming would expect it to be repaid when he had his own kingdom, and a castle with a moat. With crocodiles. Crocodiles were a must.
"Perilous tasks, indeed! Quests to faraway lands, journeys through the fire and brimstone of treacherous territory, frays with creatures that looked as if they came themselves from the very depths of hell!" Wandering through the forests of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, watching his bag slip into the Atlantic and knowing he was too poor a swimmer to stand a chance of retrieving it, and being harassed by a hawk that thought he was getting too close to its nest — check, check, and check. He stood boldly despite his failings, chest still pressed out and chin tilted up. The world of make-believe was so much kinder.
Hemming noticed that she held a much sturdier-looking stick than did he, and tried not to watch as she spun it, keeping his gaze on her face instead. Aspiring royalty must not be intimidated or distracted! He was too into his little play to wonder what exactly was unfolding, or to worry about the pathetic stick in his hands, or to anticipate the fun that the two of them might have. The male had an aptitude for tasks that required a lot of attention to detail, but his strength and agility was quite lacking. If one could receive a kingship for building things and reading books, he would already have it. But, alas, life was not so.
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You know, this would be pretty amusing to witness IRL with these two. Bahaha. 400+
Hemming. Whether it was indeed the male’s real name or just an alias, it would certainly work. Hemming was indeed cordial enough, giving a graceful bow to Asha and of the equine. With Aiden in the background, mindlessly watching the two role play in Victorian style, there was no real comment or action to elicit from the steed, as he softly swished his length tail behind him, and returned to grazing at the fine grasses below him. “’Tis my pleasure.” After his bow and formal introduction, there was a fine curtsey made from Asha; bending at the knees, lowering muzzle and head, and extending her fingers outward with her thumbs and indexes touching as if she was lifting an invisible hem of a skirt. Their greetings seemed to be flowing smooth at the moment, until what was to come next, at least.
So, Hemming had spoke of his perils, and they seemed to be quite impressive and daunting indeed. Slender fingers rose to rub the fine hairs beneath the chin of her maw, stroking them as if in thought to all these trials. “Impressive I shall say, it is a righteous feat to taketh tooth and claw upon unholy, vile creatures from the very depths of hell itself. Not a privilege many can doeth.” Indeed it was, but what was to show for it? As impressive as it sounded, she wished that good Hemming would impress her further by his skill in the art of slaying. Rising out of her lady like curtsey and bow came a stance suddenly prepared for battle; muscles flexed, knees bent, chest puffed, and now the stick slightly held out from her, tightly and with all the confidence mustered within. The stick pointed at Hemming, which the woodened weapon in itself was long enough to where the very dull point was mere inches from his muzzle, now. “Care if thou take part in friendly joust, my good Hemming?” Her soft amber gaze was afire with a mischievous glint, narrowing and looking upon at him as if she was to devour him alive right then and there. A ravenous swish was given of her tail behind her, ready to engage in anything that he was about to bring forth. It would be pretty obvious that Hemming could overpower Asha in a second; he was obviously more adept in his build and stance, but that didn’t mean Asha wouldn’t give up so quickly without making it a challenge. Things were about to get a lot more interesting between the two.
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Haha, it would be awesome.
The Lady curtsied with a grace that was unrivalled by all the queens and princesses of all the far away lands that Hemming had roamed. A compliment, then, was worth more than all the diamonds and sapphires that studded the king's golden crown. He smiled softly at her gentle and praising words, nodding almost imperceptibly as he spun the stick around in his fingers once more. At once, though, the female had adopted a formidable stance, her grace whisked away like a silk curtain to reveal a warrior that was ready for battle. More ready, certainly, than Hemming would ever be. His lanky arms would not be accurate enough nor strong enough to disengage her, and his only strength would be his ability to move quickly.
Such qualms did not fluster him in this fantasy world, though, and he mirrored the girl's stance, bending his knees and holding his stick out boldly. Ignoring the fact that the end of her stick was close to his nose and that the end of his barely reached to her hand, he replied, "My fair lady, how could I decline?" He raised an eyebrow, the glint in his eyes reflecting hers, and tapped her stick with his. All fear or worry had melted away from him when he had stepped out of the real world. Here, failure wouldn't be his, but rather that of the character that he played.
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I'm not too familiar with any fancy sword moves, so i'm going to elaborate as much as I can and hopefully you'll understand what she's trying to do. If not, send me a PM and i'll re-edit so it'll make more sense. Wotd: Nimety 300+
Akin to an approving, coy smirk passed along the red she-wolf's muzzle, seeing as how Hemming himself adjusted accordingly for sparring. Her mottled plume behind her gave a couple of ravenous swishes, excited and feeling the adrenaline instantly dripping into her veins. Play sparring, it was an activity that had been absent from her life in quite awhile. Given that it was sparring against someone who had just as little experience as she did, it was at best an opportunity to learn, experience, get better adjusted with the art of combat and defense. What a nimety of fun this will be!
Softly biting her leathery wolven lips, there was a sense of focus to come over the female as if she was concentrating on a very pivoting task. And so it was there that noble Hemming couldn't decline such an invitation, and with the tapping of her own stick with his (in gesture of beginning their sparring, as she took it), there was a fairly dipping nod of approval and respect to be given to Hemming before suddenly the female twisted the stick in her hand with a stealth and fluid motion; from the point of where the two sticks touched, she was able to make a down curving "U" shape underneath his own stick to where her own weapon arrived at the opposite side of his apparatus to tap the opposite end of his makeshift sword. "Ready?" She questioned with a quirked brow. There was no hesitation then that Asha drew her stick back, and with the same fluid motion she attempted to make a slash at Hemming. Depending if his movements were just as quick as hers, his own weapon would be able to clash with her own, and the two would be locked together for a brief second, and it would be their first gesture of a wooden sword, spear thing spar!
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I think I understood your explanation. :] I don't know any of the
moves either, so I'll try to elaborate as well.
Now that they were actually about to sword fight, Hemming felt immensely silly. A wide grin was plastered on his face as he tried to figure out what the best technique might be. A more perplexing question was what exactly the target was; was he supposed to hit the girl directly with the tip of the sword or swipe her with its side? He imagined that a side swipe would be less painful, so while they were playing he would try to do that. It was probably a good idea to try to avoid any injuries. This was, after all, just a game, and Hemming didn't like hurting anything even if he had a good reason to.
The male reflected the other's deep nod, his eyes staying very loosely focused on her entire body and the weapon that she held in order to monitor all her actions in his main and peripheral vision. It seemed to be a good way to be aware of any move she might use; when she swooped her sword beneath his before pulling it back smoothly and slashing at him, the male managed to react quickly. He held his stick up at an angle and blocked the lady's attack, his arm moving almost out of pure reflex. After their weapons clashed, he drew back, bouncing a little on his bent knees, before lunging toward her and swinging the sword toward her side.
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Damn! In an instance Asha herself had been the one who was just so close to landing her strike, but Hemming certainly proved to be agile in evading her swipe. This Hemming, he was doing a pretty satisfactory upkeep so far. Better than Asha thought. That was quite alright, for she liked challenges anyways; she was generally the type that grew quite bored with static, repetitive routines, especially those who purposely took it easy on her. It was unknown to her whether or not Hemming was attempting to take it just a little bit easy, but so far Asha was having a blast, and getting down some moves and techniques with weaponry, no matter how big or small they seemed to be.
It was then his makeshift weapon suddenly snapped in two at the attempt of batting at her own stick again (in which it obviously missed), and the Amara couldn't help but bring her digits to the front of her muzzle in which she muffled her snickering. It was even more humorous to her when Hemming bellowed that his imaginary blacksmith was going to get the third degree for such a poorly designed weapon. She continued forth with her snickering which evolved into soft laughter, then made a reply to him laced in daring amusement with a coy smirk to match. "...That is, if you live to see your blacksmith." She commented smartly, giving a vivacious swish of her tail behind. Seeing as how Hemming was now weaponless and at her advantage, it was in the honorable code, however, that one shouldn't strike another who didn't have a weapon. Asha wouldn't torment him like that anyways, and plus, she was having too much damn fun to suddenly stop. At the request of taking hold of one of her other laying sticks as Hemming moved over to them, for a second she weighed out the options of him having a sturdy stick like hers, but after a momentary pause, her muzzle graced a smile. "I would not, noble Hemming. Majestic I must say, but we are not doneth. A better weapon, makes for a much bettereth, ruthless king." And so it was indeed that Hemming could take one of her extra sticks, and now with the probability of his new weapon holding strong throughout their jousting, their fun would continue without any technical difficulties made. Asha was ready, more than ever now.
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Oh, he was so close. The female managed to evade his swing, though, letting out a little exclamation as she dodged the swift tip of the stick. Hemming, a little off balance from his lunge, pulled himself back out and shifted his feet a little to steady himself. At the same time, Asha was doing some kind of dance, and Hemming struggled to anticipate what might be coming. He kept his stick steady, in a position that he imagined would be a good place from which to move it anywhere, and hoped that he wouldn't be caught too off guard.
The warrior princess finished her little dance with a nimble spin, and Hemming moved rapidly to try to escape her attack. His legs straightened as he pushed his chest backwards in order to get out of the way of her strike. It came close to his body, a little closer than his had come to hers, and he could hear the sharp noise it made as it cleaved the air. At the same time he was trying to dodge it, the male moved his stick down to swipe hers away, outwards from his body. He was a little late, and his stick was contacted at its very end. With a snap that wasn't quite as dramatic as it should've been, the stick folded over in the middle, the end piece hanging by only a little strip of dead bark.
"Inferior weaponry! My blacksmith shall hear of this!" he cried, out of breath, and flung the stick up into the air behind him. Defenseless, he shuffled crabwise towards where Asha had been sitting when he had entered the clearing, keeping his eyes on her the entire time. He felt extraordinarily vulnerable, the mercy of the lady being the only thing keeping him from being slain. Approaching the couple of branches that she had collected, he bent down and reached towards one. "Would you mind, your Grace?"
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Dammit! I accidentally modified my post before yours instead of adding a new reply! ><; 400+
Damn! In an instance Asha herself had been the one who was just so close to landing her strike, but Hemming certainly proved to be agile in evading her swipe. This Hemming, he was doing a pretty satisfactory upkeep so far. Better than Asha thought. That was quite alright, for she liked challenges anyways; she was generally the type that grew quite bored with static, repetitive routines, especially those who purposely took it easy on her. It was unknown to her whether or not Hemming was attempting to take it just a little bit easy, but so far Asha was having a blast, and getting down some moves and techniques with weaponry, no matter how big or small they seemed to be.
It was then his makeshift weapon suddenly snapped in two at the attempt of batting at her own stick again (in which it obviously missed), and the Amara couldn't help but bring her digits to the front of her muzzle in which she muffled her snickering. It was even more humorous to her when Hemming bellowed that his imaginary blacksmith was going to get the third degree for such a poorly designed weapon. She continued forth with her snickering which evolved into soft laughter, then made a reply to him laced in daring amusement with a coy smirk to match. "...That is, if you live to see your blacksmith." She commented smartly, giving a vivacious swish of her tail behind. Seeing as how Hemming was now weaponless and at her advantage, it was in the honorable code, however, that one shouldn't strike another who didn't have a weapon. Asha wouldn't torment him like that anyways, and plus, she was having too much damn fun to suddenly stop. At the request of taking hold of one of her other laying sticks as Hemming moved over to them, for a second she weighed out the options of him having a sturdy stick like hers, but after a momentary pause, her muzzle graced a smile. "I would not, noble Hemming. Majestic I must say, but we are not doneth. A better weapon, makes for a much bettereth, ruthless king." And so it was indeed that Hemming could take one of her extra sticks, and now with the probability of his new weapon holding strong throughout their jousting, their fun would continue without any technical difficulties made. Asha was ready, more than ever now.
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[html] Oh no! >< I was hoping I'd have the original somewhere in my history
but no such luck.
Hemming let out a loud "Ha!" when the female quipped that he might not survive this encounter. She was imaginative and clever, and Hemming appreciated that in a friend. He felt lucky to have wandered to where she was, and lucky that she was receptive to his offhand comment about the loyalty of her steed. It was likely rare to encounter someone that would react in such a way by mere chance.
Without moving his eyes from her figure, he clutched a stick and lifted it up. "My humble thanks, Lady Asha. And what a sword! I must get the name of your blacksmith." It was a much sturdier weapon, and it felt firm and unforgiving in his hand. In being so much stronger, however, this stick was heavier and harder to move around. He held it up and shuffled sideways a little, away from the rocks. The male did not want to stub his toe or inflict any sort of injury on himself by way of being clumsy. A king could certainly not have a swollen big toe, whether it was caused in vicious battle or not.
Ready now, he bounced on his bent knees again, meeting her gaze for a split second. "Now, shall you suffer beneath your own sword?" He lifted an eyebrow and readied his stick for whatever attack she might launch on him now.
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Aw, it's alright. Thanks for checking. (: 300+
Aidan had been gazing at the two from the distance in their satire of royal sword (stick) fighting, gently grazing and chewing at the long grasses while the two Luperci were engaged in a tepid conflict of skill and strategy with their timber weapons. What was her Spirit Guide, Jaya, to think and say to all this? Like a hushed lover's lips whispering in her pierced ears, Jaya was commenting on the stance and persona of Hemming, quite amused himself of Hemming's natural humor that came to him inherently and what started this whole ordeal in the first place among them.
Commenting about which blacksmith to consult in her weaponry, the Amara grinned, dipping her muzzle in a respectful nod once again. "Such weaponry was wielded by your Lady itself, though it is not any more sturdieth than weapons of the mercyful gods themselves." It might have been Asha's second choice to be a craftsman (or woman) of some sort due to the fact that she could easily manipulate most objects, but fighting, and the courageous spirit of adventure and thrill was more up her alley than anything.
With her lithe and small figure returning to the previous stance she had in which she was ready for any move to be executed her way, Asha chortled a hearty laugh at his statement of herself falling before her own weaponry. There was no reply to come from her this time, in which she would like her wooden sword do the talking for her; Asha began her trickery with her feet at first, dancing madly for mere moments, before bringing her weapon down in a crescent (first rising up and then falling hard) upon her opponent. Hemming had better be ready to intercept this tactic, or else it could be a pretty bruising and painful smack of her stick made to him indeed.
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The male, anticipating an attack, kept his sword raised and ready. His eyes flashed as she nodded, and as she finished speaking he exclaimed, "The lady is not only fair and a formidable opponent, she is also highly talented in the difficult art of metal working! The gods themselves would promote you to their ranks." A grin was pulled tightly across his lips and also danced in his eyes. How could he have known, when he stirred from sleep this morning, that he would be going on an epic adventure to the days of knights and princes? This, truly, was more exciting than any dream he would have concocted, because it was two minds sharing one fantasy. Hemming vs. Hemming, on the other hand, quickly became dull.
Lady Asha started to move her feet again, and the male knew that a swift attack would soon be launched. He was right, but from where the attack was coming from he did not recognize quickly enough. The stick was already making a forceful descent when he started to react, ducking to the side. He didn't get out of the way fast enough, though, and the stick hit on the edge of his shoulder before shifting over and continuing its descent down the side of his arm. A fairly loud crack sounded, as the stick had hit an area of relatively unprotected bone. The swooshing sound it had made as it swung suggested that the strike was fast and strong, and would likely hurt under usual conditions. Remarkably, the male felt fine, and was more worried about regaining his stance and getting on the offense. Whether it was the fantasy they were enshrouded him that granted him such protection, or the adrenaline that was pulsing through his veins, he couldn't be sure.
Stumbling to the side as he recovered his balance, he cried out, "'Tis but a flesh wound!" before launching himself at his opponent, his sword swinging haphazardly out to the side before swooping towards her.
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Mwahah. >] 400+
The Amara couldn't help but have a sparkling laugh spill from her red maw at his overdramatic statement with herself getting promoted to the gods. This was simply too fun for their own good. If these two were to put on a play for the puppies of the tribe, she knew that they would probably make a hit among them! "I believe in what makes up in a noble aspiring king also does fittingly with a clever role-player." She replied with her own smirk, commenting him on his engaging ability to shift the two into a different time period altogether, with the littlest spark of imagination.
The red wolf was honestly expecting Hemming to evade her next move and dodge swiftly out of the way to avoid it, however, this time that didn't happen. Asha was actually quite stunned when her makeshift weapon hit its mark upon a choice bone in his shoulder, hearing the initial crack of wood meeting fur and flesh covered bone, and for a brief moment her ears instantly flattened against her head, and a shocked look came about her face as her sword was unstoppable and trailing down his arm now. There was a slight gasp to fly from her muzzle, in which her fingers immediately rushed up to cover the tip of her snout in surprise. Seemingly though, Hemming played it off as like it was nothing but a scratch, even though it certainly didn't sound anything of the such. Ouch!
Proclaiming his readiness still, the blow that connected with him also gave her more spirit and liveliness to repeat a similar action in a different quadrant upon his tawny figure. With Hemming now lunging toward her, Asha backed up too fast on her feet to where she slightly stumbled, and it was that stumble that caused Hemming's wooden sword to connect with the area right above her left elbow, coming too close to painfully hitting her funny bone, but it was a solid hit enough to elicit some pain. "Yow!" She said, surprised by the strike, and also disappointed by her stumbling. There was no time for tending and rubbing her wound, however. Oh yeah? Well try and dodge this! Immediately she sprang back into action, this time slashing her weapon down to where it could possibly make a hit on one of his upper legs. Hemming had better deflect that strike fast, for it was coming to him on swift wings quick.
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Hemming was quite enjoying the banter between them, and though he had no words with which to respond, a wide grin crossed his face. He was pleased that his attack had made contact, though the exclamation of pain made him wince a bit. The wolf barely had time to revel in the little victory before the other's stick was flying at him again, streaming right towards his legs. Hemming's own stick was still being retracted from his own attack, and there was no way he was going to get it over to his legs in time to block the swipe. In a moment of vulnerability, he tried to take a step backwards, but the attack came too fast and the stick contacted his thigh with a thwack.
He stumbled backwards a few steps, caught his balance and steadied his stick again. "For my future kingdom!" the wolf cried out, both for his own motivation and an attempt at valiance. He lunged forward again, swinging his sword from the top down in an attempt to catch her off guard and perhaps hit her shoulder. Alack, his attack was neither as swift nor as strong as hers, and as he started to grow tired this was becoming more obvious. The wolf delighted in the play, anyway, and the fun was by no means diminished by his lacking skill.
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Feel free to verbally rip me apart for my delay in this. .___. 300+
Victorious with her initial strike, the red-wolf smirked viciously. Sir Hemming had quite the strong willed spirit to take a smack to the thigh in stride the way he did, seeing that any smack to tender areas of the body would elicit something of a squeal (or, at least if Asha knew she was struck there, she would be temporarily stunned by such a thing). Impressed by his strong holding, Hemming geared up for something of a crescent attack as the sword gracefully and swiftly raised up and then came gliding down. Even while his attacks and agility of such were not as swift as her own vibrant strikes, his at least did connect with the bony structure of the top of her left shoulder; coming in contact with the bone rather roughly, and an audible sound of smacking against hard bone was heard. Asha gasped, fumbling backwards and raising her other hand to nurture and cherish the recently fresh hit on her shoulder. "Jesus." To her, that was a pretty good placed hit. "Your future kingdom, thou shall be destined to perish under my rule and warriors for such a grave mistake!" Keeping in character with her taunting nature, there was a thunderous growl that spit forth from the cavernous trenches of her throat (one that was entirely all in good, fair humor though, but signified the intensity of this situation) as the quite delicate and petite visage of the Amara began to become more stern, wearing a little bit more of a threatening look about her.
It was then after reeling back, she charged for Hemming once again, this time swinging her wooden sword this way and that, trying to trick him into thinking that he was unprepared for which side of him she was about to strike. It would end up being the right side where she would gracefully snap her wrist to fling the stick at his side, and unless Hemming picked up on which side she was destined to target, he was about to get struck with a good length of her weapon. Better stay on your feet for this one!
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[html] Noo! ♥
Though their intent was not to hurt each other, the contact their sticks made on each other's body sounded quite painful. Hemming cringed as his own attack connected with Asha's shoulder, and he hesitated for a moment. The actions she took betrayed the pain that was hidden beneath their heavy cloak of fantasy, and the male shrunk back a little, his brows furrowing in unavoidable guilt. Lady Asha recovered quickly, though, and cried out a warning. A snarl that Hemming really wouldn't have been able to imagine coming from the dainty female escaped her throat, and she adopted a more sinister form. Though he wasn't feeling all that confident (her act of admonition must have worked), he replied loftily, "You speak not the truth, Lady Asha! My kingdom shall be strong, and will not fall nor falter before your iron hand!" With that remark, the time for feeling guilty was over and replaced by a distinct need for self defense.
Lady Asha, proving herself an indomitable warrior, launched herself forward again. The stick she held was flung from side to side, and Hemming had immense difficulty in tracking it. His eyes darted back and forth, and he held his own stick with both hands, straight out in front of him. His breathing was a little heavier than usual, this activity more strenuous than what he was accustomed to, and it was starting to feel as if there was fire running through the veins that wound through his legs. He kept them bent in anticipation of her attack, staggered slightly for better balance, and continued to try to watch. Swinging his own stick in time to hers would surely result in failure, since he didn't have the same swiftness as did she, so he continued to hold it still even as she drew nearer.
She was there in an instant, her stick contacting sharply with his side. He inhaled sharply, surprised by the hit despite its inevitability, and staggered away from it sideways. Wrapping one arm around his front and stumbling tipsy-turvy for a few steps, he cried out, "Woe! I am the very embodiment of it!" Hemming waved his stick around a little. "But I shall not accept defeat, my Lady!" Taking a big breath and raising his shoulders defiantly, he straightened his sword, pointing it at his opponent. He would not be able to mimic the attack that she had just employed (and felt vaguely ashamed to be so out of shape), and instead waved the tip of his stick at her in a circle before lunging forward and swiping it upwards. If he was lucky he might hit her on her side, or perhaps the underside of her arm.
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