A Summer's Dawn in Crystal's Arena

[Crystal M. V. Rosepaw]

ooc; For all purposes, this RP is written assumingly before the plot began. This means no threats from the island, etc. This also means a bored, slightly happier, and more approachable War Commander. :3
Also, this is serving as a filler RP, a help to learn RPing a fight, to polish the rust off my own writing, and… I guess, if you want it, RPing advice? Just tell me out of character what you’re up to.

bic;;
Scritch, scritch, scritch.

The sound was a quiet one, but the silent area made even the minute noises sound like echoing booms. The early morning air was light and crisp, the summer’s dawning sun casting the truly white and deep-bellied clouds in shades of orange, pink, and purple. Sunrise in the fortress was always a sleepy time, especially as real work had been scarce; apart from a few captures of petty thieves, and one rousing but brief case of a murderer, all was peaceful for the Guardians. Some more repairs had been done, especially to the gate, and some of the soldiers had found other hobbies to keep them busy.

However, a lone figure stood in the grounds, occasionally casting a glance around the arena, as if looking for others to accompany her. The War Commander twirled her broadsword thoughtfully, watching carefully as sunlight played off the gleaming steel blade. Narrowing her eyes as it flashed a beam of light in her face, she crouched and put the sharpening stone to the formidable weapon again, her work meticulous and slow. After a few moments, she picked up the blade in both paws, dropping the tool to the sand below. Looking up to find a target to test the honed blade on, she found an archery dummy in ill repair. Grinning wickedly, the vixen dropped the weapon into the fool’s guard.

Casting an eye about to see if anyone was around to get in her way, she noted that none where in a close distance to her, nor her target. War Commander Rosepaw cast a critical eye at the dummy, then stepped back a few yards, placing the back of one boot against a stone marking the edge of the arena. She put the blade in the scabbard on her back, a stray bit of wind tossing her white, brown tinged fur around. Falling into a crouch, she judged the distance carefully.

“Rrraaah!” With a tremendous shout, the fox was off like an arrow from a bow, bits of sand being thrown into the air behind her. Her jade and gold brigandine moved with her rushing body, showing bits of the leggings and mail worn beneath it as the grizzled vixen flew across the large ring. As she neared the target, her left paw instinctively went to her broad shoulders, pulling out her blade with a ring of metal that was a mere half octave above her still echoing cry. Twisting the weapon down to her right hip with a roll of her wrist, the other paw met the hilt. Mere feet away from the dummy, and without slowing, a sense of relaxation swept over her whipcord body. Another hoarse scream ripped from her throat as she made her strike, a smirk under her wildly blazing optics.

Without hesitation, the vixen swept the large blade up at the helpless inanimate object, hind paws already shifting to balance her. She put no real power in the strike, using the sheer size of her weapon and her momentum to work; a puff of sand, the target’s contents, flew into the air as she laid out a single, fatal strike. From the left hip of the dummy to the right shoulder, the relentless blade tore the canvas, even severing the wooden pole in the middle used to keep the object upright. Taking a step back, the vixen witnessed the awesome sight of sand and upper bit of the broken pole flooding out of the gaping ‘wound.’ Grinning wolfishly past her irregular breathing, she pulled herself to a complete stop to inspect the blade.

“Mm, seems that’ll do. Sand’s a lot heavier than flesh an’ fur,” the fox mused, before sighing out the last of the carbon monoxide in her lungs. After making sure none of the sand had stuck to the weapon, she returned it to the sheath.

Her limp a bit more pronounced, she put both paws on the dummy, completing the work her attack had started by breaking the pole. Throwing her weight against it, the wood snapped and fell backwards feebly. “Can’t be keeping the things if they just fall apart,” she ushered, tossing the pole out of the ring, then standing up to finish draining the canvas of sand.

She looked up as she did so, looking around the ring. In the area she was at, dummies like the one she had ‘slain’ and bulls-eye targets stood, near a small rack of practice archery equipment. In a barrel, which the fox opened for the day, were arrows for the practice sessions, old but well made. Across the arena, outside the ring, a few rows of wooden benches stood, her cloak draped and canteen thrown onto one. Near this were a few racks of other equipment: blades of various sizes, spears, javelins, and a few shields, as well as daggers and knives of assorted varieties. All of these were wooden and dull, to prevent serious injury.

War Commander Crystal M. V. Rosepaw walked across the ring again, casting glances around the grounds to see if anyone would like to accompany here in the ring this good morning. A creature of battle and combat, the lapse of activity had the officer worried about her and her Guardians’ fighting skills.

[Mark Silverarrow]

Mark was restless. He had forgotten to close the curtains, and now the sun set it's rays right into his face. Once woken, the mouse couldn't fall asleep. Bracing himself for another day, he quickly walked to the area that was used as the kitchens. A few other beasts for night guard duty were in the hall, but didn't notice him.

***

Swallowing the last bit of his scone, Mark walked to the top of the wall, and watched the sun fully rise. The early mist quickly burned off into some dew, and a day started. Walking, he decided to practice his blade swinging skills.

Listening in the early morning silence, the archer heard a rough shout from the Ring. Following this, was a high SHING of a sword being drawn, and a muffled blow that he recognized: One of the practice dummies was being attacked. Walking slowly, he then heard a low crack of a pole being snapped. Frowning, Mark entered the Ring.

What he say didn't surprised him. The War Commander was standing over what remained of the dummy. She skipped over where he was standing, so he decided to show himself.

"Hallo, there!"

[The wraith]

Then all the birds flew away in a startled flight. Even the Insects grew quiet. Then out of the woods, a white figure called the wraith came upon the two creatures.

[Shard Prime]

OOC: Sorry for the weak post. And sorrier for the inactivity. My life has been really messed up lately.

---

Shard flinched, his ears twitching at the harsh, shrill cry of his fellow War Commander. The sound had come from the Arena, which was where he was headed. He picked up his pace, jogging down the path the rest of the way, a couple of hundred yards. The squirrel laughed when he arrived, understanding then the nature of the shout . "Hey now, that's more like vandalism than practice!" he called out to her from the edge of the arena.

Shard walked the distance between the fearsome vixen and himself, stopping a few feet before her and offering a friendly paw. He smiled, looking up into her eyes as he addressed her, "Looking for a sparring partner, Crys? Or just venting frustration at the dummies? I can understand either; it has been a bit slow lately."

He offered his other paw to Mark, finally addressing him, "And hello to you as well, Mark. It seems like it's been a while since we chatted. Are you also looking for a friendly match?" The squirrel smiled at both of them, looking from one to the other. "How about a match, either of you?" He teasingly added, chuckling, "I promise I'll be gentle."

[Crystal M. V. Rosepaw]

ooc;; Guys, make sure your posts are at or over 200 words, please. :3 Also, Wraith, the Arena is inside the fortress, so I'm not sure how'd you be getting in...

bic;;
The wind wisked around the Arena, throwing up bits of sand around Crystal's boots, also pulling stray stands of hair from the messy tail she'd tied it into. The bit of cord holding back the tangled mane of her hair was starting to fall out, far too short to properly hold something of that volume. Wisps fell around her face, framing it with slightly darker fluff. Soon, the brown-tint would leave as cold weather approched, but for now, it was there to stay.

Quick eyes darted around, the only sound reaching her being the whispering of nature around her, her own breathing, and the shift of her weight in the sand and against her brigandine. Feeling the sense of ease as the endorphins made her heart pound, she closed her eyes, letting the blood rush through her body in a warm wave; this was the life she knew. A life of battle and of violence. She had lived this way for so long that it had become her enjoyment and her addiction. True, she did want justice for those that hid behind her, and she would get it like a vengeful entity. However, when her senes became overwhelmed with the want to battle, petty things like 'justice' didn't matter. All that mattered was the snarled words, the venom, the bloodshed, and the victory.

A slow smile, like that of a junkie with a fresh fix, streched across her maw as she looked around the arena. Her eyes unseeing in the sunlight, beautiful morning of indulgance, she didn't see Mark approching the arena until he called out to her. The vixen jumped visibly, the haze draining from her senes. There is no time for this, she thought bitterly, you have work to do.

Just as she was about to greet Mark, she sw, behind him, the approch of Shard. Walking slowly to the edge of the ring closest to them, she raised a paw in greeting. Her breathing was starting to even out.

"Hey now, that's more like vandalism than practice!" Shard chided her as he neared. Crystal snorted quietly, a very un-ladylike gesture. Jade orbs rolling in their sockets, she made of placidating gesture.

"Please, Shard. As long as I'm not the one sewing the damn things back up, I think we're all fine," she thought about this breifly, before chuckling and adding, "if I made garments, I'd have to arrest myself for how often people were stabbed by all the pins I'd have to put in them."

Shard went on to question why she was in the arena, and for a reply, the War Commander simply shrugged after trading grips with him.. She hadn't come out here to feel the sensation of an imagined enemy being felled beneath her, but now she could not remember her reasoning. Instead, she just gestured around broadly, as if to say 'it is a nice day.' As Shard greeted Mark, Crystal looked around, considering the offer to spar.

Looking back at her peer, she frowned with consideration, looking at him judgingly. Finally, she voiced her verdict.

"Shard, I may not be as nimble as I was on account of a crippled leg, but none in these lands can best me with a blade. One what terms do we duel?"