03-05-2010, 05:03 PM
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Don't worry! I know how it feels all too well >< Word Count: 474 He remained still as she spoke, but he felt surprise at her words. For one thing, strangers he had never heard of by someone else's words usually never sought him out, and once she explained why she sought him, he was further surprised. He was not a warrior, and had never been. He would never be. The last time he had fought was several seasons ago, yet the images and horrors still haunted him sometimes. It was not as much the violence, as the instincts he had felt inside of him, and the things they had caused him to do. Considering this for a moment, he thought that she was perhaps correct in at least one of her assumptions: he did know how to avoid a fight, and if one was unlucky, how to avoid taking damage in a fight. Though, in his struggle with Brennt, no amount of training could have saved him had it not been for Cwmfen's efforts to wound the male beforehand. Even then, he had nearly lost his life. Then again, Urma was not him, and did perhaps not face the same mental battles as himself in the face of danger. One last thought crossed his mind; word had reached this female, Urma, of his skills as a warrior? She had spoken to Ember? The idea that his sub-leader perhaps had spoken warmly of him in such terms was oddly unsettling, and he let the thought go before the temptation to linger on it grew too strong. Shaking it ioff, he studied Urma for a moment, before he nodded, and his gaze trailed to the side. He could help her. "Crimson Dreams is our neighbor, and our friends. We are not allies, but I've always thought it is important to aid one's friends." He paused, realizing that he was sounding very formal, as if they were making some kind of agreement. "You may be disappointed; I have little training in the ways of war. I can, however, help you with protecting yourself, and to survive an encounter." Protection was more important than the ability to kill. The ability to run away was the most important one; one should choose one's path carefully. Dawali was skilled in running away, and he was not ashamed of it. He was a medic, and in times of war his skills were needed. If he got himself killed in a moment of pride or ego, many more would suffer. In his case, there was pride in running away, and shame in staying to take blows that could have been avoided. "Mainly, what I can teach you is to defend yourself with various weapons, improvised or familiar, and more importantly; to run away." His gaze was sincere as he stared at her, wondering what she would think of this. It was all he could offer. |