Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ (shayariel.tigerpaw)

[09:47:46] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) moves through the forest. She is restless. That belly wound - the two giant dire wolf bite marks had slowed her down. She was not able to hunt, she was not able to fight, she was not able to do any much that would require her belly muscles. It feels like rusted, soft nearly for her taste, feminine! And she hates feminine softness. Those city women in their fine dresses are like that, those whores in the brothels. She is no city woman, she is no whore. She is a barbarian from the Farland desert surrounding mountains! She is equal to men, she had worked like them, fought like them, drunken like them! She had visible belly muscles like them and her biceps would put civilized men to shame! After losing her tribe from seight now she had wandered for weeks - without a fight, with easy prey, without killing another, anyone. And that pesky black orc had escaped. She is furious! Without even noticing she had peeled that bandage around her center away, the air feels great on her bare belly and back. She just walks through the forest, until she finds a hidden ledge towering high over the river beneath. She stops, looks about the lands, thinks...

[09:51:10] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) shakes her head after a while. Thinking is not easy, it hurts over time, more than an extreme mix of boozes on the next day. She hates thinking. Doing is better. She turns. A rock! Whatever! Where is her tribe? Why had she lost them from sight? Why had she gotten lost on the way back to their village after that last raid? It had been successful, she had gained a near bag full of small rubies, as big as half the last bone of her small finger, but without her tribe that riches are shallow. The Rock! She stares at the rock.

[10:00:01] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) feels it as if the rock would move, a mouth forms, it is a feeling, a mental projection, but it feels so real to her. 'Coward!' the rock formed lips say, 'weakling!' it mocks her, 'slave slut!' it spits at her. Pesky rock, it cannot know! It cannot know her! Cannot know how strong she is! How battle experienced, how valorous! "I am no less than a man!" She bellows against the rock, in her barbarian mother tongue, a crude and hard sounding language, a gnarly, furious dialect. "I am of the Mountainlions!" She grunts in guttural voice against the rock. With haste she tears the furs and hides off her shoulder, those damn battle needed leather cups from around her breasts. Her breasts are not as lean as those of a man, despite they are muscular. She needs those during battle - though only for comfort. She hates to live a comfortable life. It is so shameful in her eyes. "See, Shayra is like man! Strong, my shoulders broad! Shayra strong! Shayra valorous!" She yells against the mocking rock formed lips, that seem to form a grin towards her. Barebreasted she faces the rock, she narrows her eyes, her lips form an angered frown. "Come, ghost, come out rock! Shayra smash you! Shayra strong! Shayra challenge!" She taunts the rock, pulling the sword from its sheath on her back. Only the chest straps that hold the sheath are over her breasts anymore, much like the men of her tribe use to wear them. She assumes a low stance, broad legs, her side facing the rock, just like her face, just like the palm of the left, stretched out hand. The twohanded sword she holds over her head.

[10:05:19] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) regards the rock - was that a tremble in those lips only she imagines in her head? Is the rock scared of her? Of course it is! It must be, it is a rock, she is a barbarian, a fighter! Everyone is scared of her folk! Of her! "Come out, ghost stone!" She gnarls, all her muscles tensed, damn how good that feels, the bite marks are healed, her body is just a bit exhausted yet. Was there not a shadow erupting from the rock? She dreams, she imagines, a fighter had come from the rock, challenging her, replying to her challenge. It walks around her, she remains in place, in pose, concentrating on its motions, on its breath, feels its gaze on her bare back's skin while it tries to find the best spot, the best angle to strike. She waits, tensed up like a spring, ready to snap.

[10:11:51] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) feels that shadow surrounding her, it becomes more and more realistic for her in her mind, no real being, just one she imagines, but she focuses on it. A left turn, a wide lunge sidewards, all the tension of her muscles flies into a low slash, from the blade being vertical over her had to strike a foe in the lower belly. The shadow withdraws out of reach. Wonderful! Again she tenses up, the blade horizontal over her head, the tip pointing at the enemy. "Come again! You fail, Shayra fast!" She taunts it, the eyes narrowed, though the pupils turned up into her skull for better imagination. She fights that shadow, which she only imagines, tensed up, sparring a shadow....

[10:15:37] Vatira the Fierce the sound of battle was like the blue light to flies, and so he followed hopping up and climbing up rocks as he looked down upon the woman sparing, his rbow rose as she was swinging at nothing and he snirked a bit as he crossed his arms like he was judging her, she had, after all lost once to the orc already, and he would look back, Waahg was near by, the dog followed its master often but still never the less he watched curiously.

[10:18:13] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) had taunted that imagined shadow, but this time she does not give it time to attack, instead, she herself lungs forwards, body snapping forwards, planting a diagonal stab from above her head downwards, just to withdraw again after. "Surprised?" She grunts in her guttural barbarian language, taunting the imagined enemy. She nods to accept the imagined reply of her enemy, but takes the blade hilt with both hands, strikes again, a serious of strikes, a crude flurry that is more about strength than technique. She is fast, but she wants to feel her muscles ache, work. And she feels them, drives them on, harder, as if wanting them to break through her skin, they bulge under it, they stretch it, hard. She swings her blade, deadly precise as it is mostly possible only during sparring, in strikes and swings that would decapitate an Ent or dragon. She had not noticed the nearby orc - considering him having ran like a coward from their battle, herself the winner, arrogance and pride not allowed her to admit defeat. Does that imagined shadow have the facials of the orc? It might look close in her mind.

[10:23:08] Vatira the Fierce he watched and he tilted his head and laughed a little, his eyes looking over the woman and shook his head as he lept from the rock, his feet planting to the earth with a very firm, hard, resonating thud, yep, he had won, atleast in his mind, so it looked like their arrogance was both in tact and he growled lowly as he looked to the pinky, "Waht pihnkay dohan?" he asked, concidering her below him to speak orc to her as he paced a bit back and forth. he was still pissed that she had made him break his pole arm. An he seemed very intently looking at the woman as if she was meat, and to him she was

[10:26:15] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) has her blade make swooshing sounds in the air when she strikes, and strikes and strikes. A thick sheen of sweat covers her skin from scalp to toes already, letting the long black hair glue on her body as if she had just erupted from diving in the river. A play of fiery colors comes from that on her bronzed skin, produced by the sun. Suddenly she falls forwards, does the splits, falls into them and accompanies that with a brutal jab into a possible enemies core, where the solar plexus would be. And as fast as she landed in that motion, she is back on her feet again. "Rock ghost lost, Shayra won! Next!" She grunts, this time in that crude common tongue. Then though the thud can be heard, of the heavily armored male orc landing on the floor. She opens her eyes again, her breasts heaving well from the sparring. "Black orc back! Much valor in black orc!" She snorts, "orc came drink victorious Shayra? Came demand fight back? Still coward fight with wolf?" She does not sound much more harsh than it is normal for her, not really challenging, but honestly interested. Not even the sword is held aggressively currently. "What orc want? Offer Shayra drink?"

[10:29:12] Vatira the Fierce he laughed loudly as she claimed victory, "Ihz dah Victahriaz wan, Yah lehft ihn poohl ahv yah awn blahd." he said as the rain around them turned to a drizzle and the orc started to get wet, "Ihz hereh tah cahlam prahze." he stated as he started to walk forward towards her the orc looking more at her like something that belonged to him!

[10:32:45] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) grins a toothy grin at that reply. "Orc ran away, Shayra stood place." She replies to that, for her a clear sign that she won, but that is a detail. "You prize be ale, you bold, you valor, Shayra like!" She grunts to him and turns her left shoulder a bit towards his approach, takes the sword backwards. The muscles are tensed. The bite marks of the giant direwolf are mostly healed on her center, yet visible in red gleam, and sweat and the setting in rain both make it glitter. She though does not step back despite his approach, does not give in a foot's width even.

[10:36:07] Vatira the Fierce he shook his head, "Iz rahged, chahse naxt prah. Yah lehft auht cohld. Vahtirah waahn." he chuckled as he moved closer still and stood toe to toe, "Yah mihn." he nodded firmly, laying claim over good breading stock was important to a clans survival, even if it produced well, halfies, and he corssed his ams as he looked to her, half expecting the woman to be angry at his claim over her.

[10:40:56] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) raises her chin, not only to be able to be able to look up to his face - the male orc towers over her, she is a bit small grown for her folk's usual size, no one knew why, not even the shaman. Both her parents had been giants. She lifts that chin though of pride. "Shayra belong Mountainlions. No man defeat Shayra yet, no man claim Shayra heart, no man strong in battle, no enough." She snorts back. She is not outright opposed to be bride of an orc, she is not racist like that, all that counts is strength and battle skills for her, and the will to fight and kill plenty enemies. Should she decide so, so is the habit of her folk, she could marry anyone she choses, that defeats her in battle. And if it would be a stone golem (which is likely as smart as she is). "Orc want Shayra, orc bring gift, bring battle, Shayra decide."

[10:46:45] Vatira the Fierce Vatira already had a bride, the poor woman seemed to be confused at what he said, ad he would laugh and laugh whole heartedly, before shaking his head slowly back and forth as he looked down to her, "Yah, bahreedan stahk." he said as he would step forward, "Baht ihf Ihz hahv tah, Ihz beaht yah agahn." his fists curl up as he brought them up, yep he wasnt going to fight her via sword nope, he felt confident enough to defeat her there.... letting the natrual flow of war flow through him... he was a battlemage after all, and as such would focus the mana through himself into pure fighting potential... (-1 mana to add +1 to fighting.)

[10:51:54] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) shrugs, totally unaware of what a breeding lifestock could be, not even able to link that to cattle currently. "Shayra no woman two, Shayra woman one, or no woman. No see need in fight, fight Shayra heart, no if orc has bride." She states, again such a tidal wave of her simple logic. For her it just makes no sense to be second, third or such woman of someone, she is in that aspect pretty monogamous. "Orc stupid, make no sense. No bride Shayra so." She licks her lips. Well, she could just thrust her blade from where she holds it and stir his guts likely, him having his hands risen and standing toe to toe, he would likely not even see that coming. But then her mind is focused on ale again. "Orc sure no want mead? Grog? Orc valor, orc strong, deserve, Shayra strong, deserve also."

[11:00:20] Vatira the Fierce he laughed deeply as he looked to her and shook his head from side to side, "Yahz naht get it..." he stated as he would look at her bare breastedness and chuckled a little as he would say, "Yahz has naah choihce." he said simply as he growled and he would "Yahz Behlang tah meez" he said with a low growl as he would indeed claim what he thought was his, and he would once more channel that war like magic through his fist once more raising his fighting potential.... (-1 mana +1 Fighting.) He was ready and was going to claim her as his with his fists. Because he didnt need a weapon to own her.

[11:06:02] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) falls into his laughter, considering that indeed funny. Slowly she more and more understands his crude accent of talking, at least he speaks short sentences. "No, Shayra no get, Shayra strong, Shayra barbarian, ancient high folk ancestor." She replies to that, and there is a lot of pride in her voice that usually brings forth mostly something that sounds like a question or a command, by nature of the voice and her lack of ability to form more refined tunes of wording. "Orc want Shayra, but no want! Shayra no get. Orc want Shayra fight? Fight with Orc?" Perhaps that is what he wants? That she is to be enslaved appears totally unnatural for her, her folk is the one that enslaves usually. She herself had never managed to enslave someone because she had too much joy to slay others in battle. No one was ever left to enslave for her. "Orc good muscle, good strong, Shayra strong, fight together good, make enemy scream fear. Want?"

[11:11:56] Vatira the Fierce he laughed a bit, "Yaah mihn pihnkay." he said finally as he noded fight, yes seemed thats what tehy were going to do, and boy she had better win. but he would then roar at her yep fight it was but he used his fist, and would swing that empowered fist at the woman with every intent to hurt her as he seemed to not be raging quite yet, he seemed very content and very, simplistic at the moment to claim what he throught was his...

[11:12:21] Vatira the Fierce rolls R8 (CC:bc5f): 117, attempted punch, - 2 damage
[11:13:42] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ rolls R6 (CC:bc60): 87, defense
[11:13:42] Prohawk HUD:
Rolled R6: (1-160):87
Max (Nominal/Actual):100/160
Bonus (Nominal/Actual):60/0

[11:18:01] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) had actually meant something else - that they fight together, side by side, against someone else whose defeat makes them laugh and feast after, whose cries of fear make them cherish. Hence also his initial punch connects with her chin in quite a surprise. "Orc hideous!" She grunts, though her voice sounds amused even if a bit shaken from the blow. Fighting amuses her, losing and dieing in it is an option, but then a honorable one, winning even more. She has had her sword behind her from his sight, all muscles tensed all the while, so now she outright stabs against him - alone because she has only her left hand free, which is far less than even odds for this first round. So she stabs to his center, above the belt, diagonally up from her hip side. It is for her no unfair attack as close as he stands, just a test for his skills, wanting to be impressed, and surely despising him should he fail to evade that...

[11:18:39] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ rolls R8 (CC:bc61): 18, attack, long weapon, 3dmg - 1dmg self decided for bad angle
[11:18:39] Prohawk HUD:
Rolled R8: (1-180):18
Max (Nominal/Actual):100/180
Bonus (Nominal/Actual):80/0
[11:20:35] Vatira the Fierce rolls R5 (CC:bc62): 48, dodgy!

[11:24:29] Vatira the Fierce the magically empowered orc seemed to laugh a bit...as he looked down, "Pihnkay mihstakan." he said as she would try to stab at him and he growled lowly as he would move to the right and around to the right to avoid the upward stab and he would then throw another punch to try and clock her in the back of her head laughing more so, "Yah slaw pihnkay." he said with a laugh.

[11:24:52] Vatira the Fierce rolls R8 (CC:bc63): 34, Attempted punch - 2 Damage
[11:26:06] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ rolls R6 (CC:bc64): 97, defense
[11:26:06] Prohawk HUD:
Rolled R6: (1-160):97
Max (Nominal/Actual):100/160
Bonus (Nominal/Actual):60/0

[11:34:35] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) was prepared this time, so she dodges this last attack, basically using her far shorter stature to escape those long orc arms. Low so, and backwards. Now actually she would have a range advantage with her long weapon, but still she does not understand that this is actually serious and about her freedom or life. Or she has just fun fighting in general. The blade now in both hands, she lifts that over her head, vertically all her way up, then rotates around her axis, bringing the blade diagonally down to strike against his right arm, or wrist, whichever is easier to reach. "Shayra fast, Orc fat!" She grunts in that tension, just to have some kind of reply against his taunts.

[11:34:57] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ rolls R8 (CC:bc65): 8, attack, longblade, 3dmg
[11:34:58] Prohawk HUD:
Rolled R8: (1-180):8
Max (Nominal/Actual):100/180
Bonus (Nominal/Actual):80/0
[11:39:35] Vatira the Fierce rolls R5 (CC:bc67): 19, Catch the blade maybe? >_>;;;
((he forgot to roll, was done ex-post, ok'ed with me of course))

[11:38:00] Vatira the Fierce he watched and snirked a bit as she would dodge and he grumped a little as she rotated on her axis the blade comeing down diagnally and the ork would catch the blade in his hand, sure, it cut sure he bled but he ddint seem to hurt by it and he laughed softly as he would use his other fist to come up for a gut shot, laughing heartily as he would seem to enjoy this feeble attempt to challange his will.

[11:38:17] Vatira the Fierce rolls R8 (CC:bc66): 61, Attempted Gut punch - 2 Damage

[11:44:51] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) finds herself surprised at that bold blade catching - something like that she had never seen, never expected. Damn, being young, even if already gone through several fights, means one does not know everything. That surprise alone, her focus to attempt to get the blade free - if successful or not - makes her totally forget about trying to block that other attack. That strength of this massive beast of orc connects to her priorly wounded, just healed belly, forces a gurgling sound break out from her throat, dry at least. She collapses to her knees, the pain is immense on the but a weak old and nearly healed bite wounds. She is beaten, yet not unconscious, but one thing she can not do, just cannot do: She does not let go the hilt of her blade. "Orc... won..." she pants anymore, "Shayra of orc... fight for orc... Shayra beaten..." She tells, accepting him basically as ruler over her, chief level, "Shayra... loyal..." Well, at least until someone else deserves her loyalty or she dies. As Neutral Lawful person, savage, her own code of honor dictates that, the traditions of her folk. She would use her blade for this orc, aside this orc now.

[11:50:16] Vatira the Fierce he looked down at the woman as she colapses and he laughed a bit as he bled and he laughed a little as he moved down to her level kneeling as he would then wipe the blood of his hand if he could along her face and then breast letting his blood coat her body, as he smirked slightly, "Yah Behlahng tah meh." he growled lowly, as he reached abck to a pouch and drew out what seemed like a bunch of leather bands with beads of red and black on it and he would try to tie it around her neck... "Yah Shayhra bloohdrahk." yeah he couldnt get her name right, at all, and his claim and collar was assured, indeed... poor girl... and he laughed a little, she had given up, she'd need to be taught, and for that he'd wait for Naveen to see their pink little toy.... and he would cross his arms letting the blood flow over his arm and drip from the damage done to his hand. Waiting to see how she took her new position.

[12:04:10] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) does not even know understand her new status - for her he put his tribe symbols onto her to which she now belongs. Her folk had not used collars, but tight armlets to mark a slave. "Shayra now Shayra Bloodrock?" She asks, then confirms outright "Shayra Bloodrock..." a strong name in her eyes at least, and her totem seems not angered, the tattoo is still there. It cannot go, it is just a tattoo but to her very special and spiritual anyways, in her mind at least. She brings that sword to its sheath. "Shayra now fight for orc." She repeats and begins to push herself onto her feet again. She is in pain, still, clearly, and clenches her hands onto her belly. The rain and sweat still convers her body into a wet mess, but it does not matter to her.

[12:07:48] Vatira the Fierce he looked to her and laughed, "Shayhra Salahve ta Bloohdrahk naw, feehdam iz eahrnahble threh bloohdspart." he said simply, it was how he earned freedom "Tihl dan yah behlong tah meh." he said as he reached forward to try grab the collar and the other meaty hand lashed forward to grope her breast, yes, indeed he was going to molest her so she knew what she was infor.... pinching at her sensitive nubs and twisting slightly waiting to see if she now understood the laws and traditions that he held so dear.

[12:13:34] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) begins to understand - she is a slave. The battle in her mind though about that is rather short. Surely, her folk has a deeprooted wish for freedom, then though he had won too, and that is a shame for her, especially as they do not go have a drink now together. That would have meant it was a game, but it was serious, so it is a shame. There is a way to freedom, Bloodsport? Aside impaling him just during his sleep which is also an option. But bloodsport would be more honorable, regaining freedom and respect in one. His groping makes her narrow her eyes though, the nostrils begin to flare in harsh breath - yet not out of humiliation, but out of pride: She tenses her chest muscles as much as she can, so that he would feel those muscles as he might feel them on a man. She considers herself equal to men, also physically in a way. That play though on her nipples makes something shoot through her body, the lips part. She endures, she hates it, but she endures. "What bloodsport? How make?" She grunts, yet with a shaking voice, that is heating her lust, which would not happen in a man if touched likewise - and that is what she hates actually.

((non-PG part cut out due to sim rules))

[08:25:33] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) steps out of the tent. It is another hot day, another morning, and surely the meeting between the white queen and the leader of the merfolk would be soon. She steps out of the tent, stretches until the joint confirm their existence by silent sounds of cracking. She knows she had been too busy with feasting lately, with talking so much to so many people for her quest for revenge to the black skinned orc. She feels it in her muscles, in each and every one of them. They suffer from the lack of use. Not anymore! She must be in shape, in better shape, when she stands aside the white queen, when the war comes, when the orc comes - and when the northern barbarian Dirk comes. Will Dirk challenge her one day, to claim her as his wife? She does not know. She will fight on his side, that much she knows. But should he claim her, want to claim her, it will be by him having to defeat her in battle, and she does not plan to be an easy to plug flower then! She is Shayra! She is strong... or needs to get stronger! He shall not laugh at her for being weak, a wimp, a silk dressed town girly!

[08:30:19] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) holds her arms all sidewards, the huge ancient battle axe in her right fist. It strains her right arm, she lays the head far back, so that the black hair hangs down her back, her face looks up to the sky. "Goddess! You respect valor! You respect strength!" She yells up to the sky like that, closed eyes, "Help Shayra get stronger! Or no stand in Shayra way!" It is her faith: She believes in the gods, she offers them to help her while she pursues their ways to make them proud, to gain for her own afterlife, but she will do what she sees needed for that even without the help of the divine. In a long horizontal arch she brings her fists to her front, until both fists hold the hilt of the axe, and lowers her head, opens her eyes to a narrowed gaze upon the blade. Does she see the goddess' hand in it or not, she cannot tell. She feels, she sees, both differs.

[08:35:28] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) lifts the heavy weapon over her head, holding it vertically over her scalp for a while, and pulls her right foot to her left knee. It is a ceremony, a practicing with the weapon. She concentrates on her entire body, feels every muscle, tenses every muscle. Then she becomes fast. She sallies out, lets the axe perform a vertical arch from above downwards, ending it in a diagonal swing in lower leg height while she already spins around her own axis. By that she strikes another time, horizontally in chest height. Finally she brings the axe to stop, holding it vertically aside her right shoulder. She gazes blankly into nothingness. In her mind the imagination of a single enemy, a huge man, a silhouette. That one she will fight now!

[08:39:19] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) awaits her enemy, but only briefly. She imagines him doing an attack from above, to split her head. With a battle step forwards, towards the attack, she brings the axe just up, to block the attack with the top of the two axe blades, so strong that she would slam the blade away, with a loud battle cry of tension, of gaining further strength into that very action. Then she withdraws the axe, strikes out forwards with the tip's iron spike against the belly of her enemy. The imagined enemy jumps back, tumbles. She steps back too, holds the axe diagonally up behind her, with both arms. "Now Shayra turn!" She barks against the not present, only imagined enemy.

[08:44:42] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) roars out loud another time, and jumps forwards nearly, the axe performing a diagonal half circle from up right down to bottom left, to strike diagonally over the chest of her enemy, then she turns, moves the axe in another circle back up. She repeats the same maneuver. She relies not only on strength, she also relies on agility, reflexes. Not so much on technique, but strength and speed. Strength is her favorite as it is use of her folk. But everyone adds one thing at least, tech or speed. She had chosen speed. She does the same maneuver again. three times those diagonal circles. Her invisible enemy backs off, and off and off! All her muscles are tensed, all her tendons feel like oiled. Her stance on the floor is stable, sweat already begins to cover her skin, everywhere, in a thin sheen.

[08:49:53] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) walks in a circle back to her original spot, tensed muscles, the reason for the walking being the ability to work her legs during that. She gazes at the enemy, and starts to whoosh her axe around like some people do with swords, in a laying eight shape of motion, with both hands. She does it long, she wants to feel her muscles during that, from her back and belly to the tips of her fingers, and so she tries to control the huge axe best she can, getting more and more a feeling for it.

[08:54:31] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) knows her imagined enemy cannot attack during this maneuver, but neither can she! She wants to fight, she wants to defeat him. She has to stop this swirling! And finally so she does right that, leaving the left hand from the axe hilt to lift that heavy weapon in one hand over her shoulder, far and high. That is difficult for her, she is no Goliath! But she tries to lead a strike, leading the two handed weapon with but one hand. It takes all her muscles can give, and still that strike is not accurate. The enemy waits, fearless. The imagined enemy does not fear the weak! She takes it again into both hands. Half jumped steps forwards, against the enemy, each accompanied with a strike of the axe, vertically down or diagonally down, several, a series of attacks. The enemy parries and evades at the same time, surely not managing to move her axe out of its swing as the enemy himself is only imagined.

[08:59:10] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) feels or imagines how the imaginary enemy strikes back, she has to defend. Fast and strong she has to bring the axe up, then left, then up, then right, then down to protect her legs, all while withdrawing backwards, and then up again, from all down to all up, a hell of a task doing that fast enough. She feels she was not fast enough, but she had evaded at least. The enemy's sword would have crushed against her iron pauldron, deflected. She repeats, defend down, defend all the way up. Better, but far from content, again! All down, all up - hilarious how the enemy does the attacks she needs him to do. She practices further and further, finally content, and then another five times to memorize that motion, to get her muscles and tendons accustomed to it.

[09:04:26] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) begins another tactic, it is her turn again. In wild far arching slashes she attacks the imaginary enemy. And each axe attack is followed by a kick, be it reverse when she comes out of a spin, be it a frontwards stomp kick to just get the enemy away or out of balance. She does not even notice that with wide axe swings such a kick could never hit at first. And two times she loses balance from an axe arch followed by a spin and a kick. But then she fights on, until she could battle herself back to her feet. She does all that to tense her muscles.

[09:11:30] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) gets the hint about the length of her legs and reach of her axe. Shorter slashes, brief quick and strong jabs of the axe, then followed by a kick! Works better! How can she get into a spin?! She does not know, she thinks, she fights, bashes and prods. Bashing? Bash with the axe hilt's pommel in half circle, like against the enemy's chin! She does so, not enough momentum! Again! All tensed up, snap like an overstretched rubber band! Better! Again! Again! Once more! Spin, and spin again! Now try to kick! too low, only the knee, groin, belly! Good! She does again and again, doing fast kicks, strong kicks, various attacks with parts of the axe, the broad of the blade, the grip, the pommel, the spike on the tip in circular motion. Her brain is simple, her brain considers only battle, likes only battle. She memorizes it all hence, fast, instinctive. She feels her muscles, she enjoys!

[09:17:04] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) had found the getting back up after falling interesting. She begins to crouch, to control her axe from that pose - it needs far more strength. She works hard, works her body, works her muscles. The arms do not suffice, shoulders and belly do not suffice. The legs! The rear! She fights from a crouching position, getting better, getting faster while all the time tensing all up! Then she lays down. She strikes, she evades strikes, by rolling, by arching, by bowing. She must, else she is dead, or will be dead. And she must keep control of her axe meanwhile, must strike. Always only defending will tire her! Will leave the risk of mistake only on her! That way a battle is lost! She may not, she wants to win, wants to see them bleed, to die! She snaps with both legs for the imaginary enemy's legs in attempt to bring him to fall. It fails, but she has enough space to rotate her legs, her body, until she again crouches out of the laying position. She attacks while jumping up from that. Strong and fast, like the snake that had waiting with withdrawn head hovering, to let it jet forwards to bite. She is Shayra, Shayra the Snake!

[09:25:01] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) sees... imagines... her imaginary foe suddenly to flee, run, relocate, something! She has to pursue him, he is not defeated. If he leads her into a trap or just wants to escape does not matter. She runs after him, he is fast, she runs through the forest, over root and rock, hill up and down, through water flows and high grasses, brushworks. She runs with the axe, with all the iron on her body, the sword on her back, the bow and quiver. It is heavy, but to that she is used. She runs with tensed muscles, swift and firm in once. In real she runs circles, but she runs, and runs and runs. jumps and dodges, moves the axe to not get stuck somewhere. Finally, and breathless, she returns to her tent. Now, it is time for breakfast!

[13:58:14] Bradock (katarr) descends from the path leading to Warden's Keep, a whistle of a soft upbeat tone emitting from under his breath as he turns the first corner of Aberwyth to enter the Ugly Ducking Tavern. Upon arriving, he preforms a small greeting towards all of those around in a shallow nodding of his head before motioning towards the barmaid. As he summons her forward, Bradock reaches for a chair and pulls it out before he lowers himself into the seat with a soft groan. With a glance to the barmaid for her to read today's menu to him, the dark haired male simply shrugs and orders himself a small meal before relaxing into the wooden seat beneath him.

[14:02:55] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) lingers basically on the townsquare, or waits there rather, for him cannot be seen. She is though in full battle gear, at times normal for her, but this time also with battle paint made of bone dust and orc blood in the face. She looks grim into nothingness, thinks, which is hard enough, focuses on something. Only briefly her narrowed eyes go to the man who went past her, to the tavern, to eat and drink. Helga, the bar maid, had already tried to wave her in, but today she does not think of ordering her three to seven liters of grog or wine. Not yet. It takes a while until she realizes actually that the man is also a fighter. She then actually steps into the tavern. "Shayra greet fighter. Fighter be wolfman?" She grunts in a savage dialect.

[14:08:26] Bradock (katarr) | As the barmaid returns to him with a hot glass of tea, Bradock wraps his fingers around the mug and raises it to his lips. He lightly blows upon the steaming liquid within the mug before he takes a tentative sip. Immediately, his eyes widen and tongue sticks out. "Hooooot." He complains, panting his dog like a dog left out in the heat of a hot summer day. Setting the mug down, the smell and sound of shifting armor catches his attention as he glances to the woman approaching him. Any battle paint she may of been wearing did not seem to bother him, as he blinks in confusion regarding her actual words regarding him. "Huh? Wolfman?" He requires a moment to think upon her words before he seems to come to a conlcusion. "Umm, no, I'm not a 'wolf' man. Or at least I think I'm not... why?"

[14:12:26] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) has to visibly focus on what the man speaks, it is difficult as some sentences are quite long for her brain. It leads to her narrowing her eyes further. "Shayra, Dirk, hired by shadow man, shadow man want fight wolfs. So Shayra want know: You fight wolf, or you be wolf!" She repeats. Unlike the question before, her words now sound like a command. "Shayra strong! Shayra no fear wolf, Shayra slay wolf, make wolf girl lament dead!" Also that sounds like a command for some reason. She points to his double handed blade on his back. "You fighter, you fight wolf? You want honor?"

[14:17:29] Bradock (katarr) glares down onto the hot mug of tea, as if it were now his biggest adversary in his life at the moment. Tentatively, he reaches for the mug once again so that he coudl raise it to his lips. Lightly blowing at the drink, he glances to the woman once more, eyebrow curious raising as she speaks. "Whose Shayra and who is Dirk?" What would follow would be a plethora of questions for him to fully gain a grasp of what she was saying. "I'm a fighter, though, I wouldn't phrase it that way.." He then briefly looks to the sword along his back. "WHo is the shadow man? And, how much is he paying?"

[14:22:00] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) steps closer to where the man is eating and places a foot onto the chair to his right, the axe hilt pommel as well, and leans with crossed arms on the top of the axe. "I Shayra, Shayra strong! Dirk man Shayra, bested Shayra, Shayra his wife." She explains, and the dose of pride in her words is more than clear. "Man no pay, but fight many honor, many fame! Fighter fight, else shame." She is a tribal warrior, a raid tribe warrior. Fighting for money is alien to her yet. "Wolf people bad people, shadow man say, must fight. Can make blade silver for gold. Strange, but Shayra no know why. Fight good, always good." Helga already brings her a mug of grog, even without asking, she always drinks that here, and usually masses of it.

[14:27:52] Bradock (katarr) finishes blowing upon his glass of tea and raises it to his lips so that he could take a tentative sip from it once again. This time, it doesn't quite scald his tongue, allowing him to occasionally drink from the glass as he converses with the Tribal Warrior. "So, you fight for fame and honor, not money?" And to an extent, he seemed to enjoy the simplicity of it, causing a grin to form along his lips. "Sounds like fun." Another sip of tea is taken as Helga returns with the mug of Grog. "Shayra strong, eh? Well, I'd love to test that out..." And there it was, his own exposure of pride, followed by his own desire to fight. Battle ran through his blood just as much as the tribal woman. "I'll make you a deal. Let's have a match, you versus me. If I win, I'll find a way to help you. I win, you owe me a favor, deal?"

[14:32:16] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) grabs that one liter mug as soon as it comes, and while she drinks, she listens. She drinks fast, as usual, so fast that quite some of it runs down from the brinks of her lips over her front. "Shayra fight honor, fame, Shayra fight fun! Big joy drive enemy before, big joy hear women lament!" She announces in her commanding tone, "Shayra need no pay battle, Shayra take from dead hand!"At the challenge though she looks up and over to the man. "Shayra follow shadow man battle, his battle, help him. Shayra no need help, Shayra strong!" She growls so, "but say, how want test? Shayra no fear!"

[14:37:48] Bradock (katarr) leans back within his seat, head tilting to one side as Helga finally brings the man his meal, one that appears to be some sort of stew with a type of meat and potato in it. As he converses with Shayra, the mug is placed along the wooden table so that he could stir the stew for it to cool. "Shay sounds like a good sparring partner then. How about, you versus me, outside of Aberwyth - nothing but fists. First one to bleed, or be grappled loses. You don't need help, fair enough. Loses owes the winner a favor of their choice, that sound fair to you, Shayra?"

[14:42:46] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) shrugs to that. "Man shadow may need help. Shayra no know, Shayra slay many, then slay many wolf." The grog mug is empty and gets slammed onto the table. She does not sense a trap by him wanting to fight outside the town, does not even think of asking why he would want that there. "Shayra accept, Punch, no wrestle, man no touch Shayra like Dirk may, Dirk bested Shayra, Shayra wife of Dirk. Punch, kick, no hug!" She states, commands, her conditions. Being a wife of someone is totally new to her yet, it had happened just the day before, surprisingly actually, but that is in most cases quite normal for people of her tribe when away from the tribe. "Winner owe favor loser. No dishonor favor, yes?"

[14:49:51] Bradock (katarr) | Just as Bradock was about to begin eating his meal, Shayra accepts his challenge. Something that he genuinely was not expecting. He suddenly rises from his seat with a large, almost giddy grin upon his features. "Yeah? Alright! No one ever let's me spar with them. This'll be fun!" He quick addresses Helga by waving his hand dismissively towards her. "Tell Gerald I owe him for the stew." This was apparently, enough to satisfy the woman as she begins to collect the uneaten stew of the Warden. "Hey, Bradock got a wife himself." He seems to have picked up her low accent, completely by accident and without realization. "So Shayra no touch Bradock the way Shayra touch Dirk, okay? No dishonorable favor, yes." That large grin still along his facial features as he pushes the wooden seat beneath the table. "Come." A motion of a waving hand signals for her to follow him.

[14:53:36] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) nods grimly, yet she had not understood the part of not touching him sexually. It was too many words in a row, more than five, without comma or dot. She cannot understand that due to low brain capacity. But she would never do that anyways. If Dirk rapes raid victims she does not care, her body belongs to him, tradition of her tribe. She turns to follow him. The man seems to wear clothes, light armor perhaps, or medium at max unless there is something hidden under the garment in terms of chain mail or likewise. Does not matter though. "First blood..." She reassures for herself, and follows him. She enjoyes to spar, day in day out really, near as much as to fight for real.

[15:02:32] Bradock (katarr) leads the woman through the winding roads of Aberwyth, descending several flights of steps until they come to a road that they divert from to walk into a lush green field. Once within it, Bradock leans over and touches his own toes, he even extends his arms high over head and twists his body from left to right, each action causes a small popping of his joints throughout the stretch. "Alright!" Tucking his elbows into his sides and tightening his fists a sudden barrier erects all around Bradock, a barrier of light translucent purple magic that collapses into the man and coasts his entire body in a small glow of magic. Just as soon as The Mage Shield become apparent, it vanishes, leaving the barrier that was just cast upon him invisible, only to appear when needed to defend him. "Because I am a gentleman..." The man's legs part, knees bend and fists raise until they were just a few inches from his face. "Ladies first."

[15:07:28] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) had followed him. to the forests, close to the tunnel of the wayward. She is young, and usually always busy moving, working, practicing her fight. Barely a moment of the day passes for her without that, except for times in the tavern. As the man warms up, she steps to the closeby rock and lays her axe onto it, the sword, the bow. Then she losens the straps of her pauldrons as well, puts them onto the pile. The iron protector around her neck she leaves on, just as the metal chain top, which is unusual for her. "You mage!" She growls low, a note of hatred or even fury swinging in her voice. Even her gaze tells that she hates mages, does not trust them. "Need coward magic to beat Shayra! You no honor?!"

[15:12:38] Bradock (katarr) raises an eyebrow from above his fists. Keeping himself fluid on his feet, his shifts his weight back and forth from one foot to the next, causing him to sway ever so slightly as he awaits het to prepare herself. "I am a Mage, of sorts. I promise, no more magic. Just fists." He playfully winks back at her from where he stands. "I just had to make sure you don't accidentally break my bones. Shayra IS strong after all, right?"

[15:17:25] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) does not trust mages one single bit, not a slightly and tiny bit. But then she has no clue what they are really capable of - which is likely the reason for the distrust. "Shayra strong!" She grunts back at the taunt, "mage scared! Ha!" Again she goes to the pile of armor and weapons, and unstraps the irons around her forearms. "So, mage no fear pretty nose." She barks at that, and turns towards him. No, she does not do further warming up, she had sparred the entire day - on different ways actually, as preparation for the battle against the wolf people. Well, the sex was not for that. She approaches, easily to the battle dancing man, and just when she is yet two steps away, she makes a fast leap forwards, aiming at his very fists or lower arms in attempt to punch his own fist against his own face or such.

[15:17:54] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ rolls R8 (CC:be04): 37, Fist Punch against Bradock (2 dmg)
[15:17:54] Prohawk HUD:
Rolled R8: (1-180):37
Max (Nominal/Actual):100/180
Bonus (Nominal/Actual):80/0
[15:18:13] Bradock rolls R5 (CC:be05): 111, Reflex

[15:27:06] Bradock (katarr) nods his head somewhat as he continues to keep himself fluid, eyes ever upon his opponent as she continues to ready herself. "I do rather like my nose in tact, yes." He was stil lgrinning throughout all of this, despite Shayra's rather evident hatred for magic. It was something that completely unphased him. The truth of the matter was, Bradock just enjoyed a chance to fight, a chance to test his mettle and go toe to toe with someone. It was a trait that it would seem he and the Barbarian woman shared in. As she comes running towards him, the null colored hues of his eyes narrow in anticipation. His entire weight shifts to his hindleg as he ducks beneath the blow aimed at his hands and arms, her fists would fly directly over his head, catching nothing but air. In retaliation, he balls his right hand into a fist and sends it swinging towards Shayra and an exposed portion of her abdomen and slightly off to the side in an attempt for the fist to connect with her ribs.

[15:27:21] Bradock rolls R8 (CC:be06): 94, Fighting (2 Damage)
[15:29:05] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ rolls R6 (CC:be07): 143, Reflexes/Defense
[15:29:05] Prohawk HUD:
Rolled R6: (1-160):143
Max (Nominal/Actual):100/160
Bonus (Nominal/Actual):60/0

[15:32:47] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) alters but her stance a bit, bending her knees to do so, so the fist of the man does not go against her rips but against the iron shoulder belt. "Mageling good!" She compliments, despite he is a mage of sorts. Fighting is pure fun for her, and so she likes it if her enemies have something to offer in that sorts. Nothing worse than an enemy that is no challenge or dies on first sneeze. She still stands close though, the strength of the man, his agility are interesting to her, but what she does might be a bit uncommon: She pretends to want to ram him with that one remaining, highly pointy and hard bull horn on her belt - a feint of course - in real she swings her right fist in high arch from above, a hammer bash try against the top of his head or forehead.

[15:33:06] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ rolls R8 (CC:be08): 67, Fist Punch against Bradock (2 dmg)
[15:33:07] Prohawk HUD:
Rolled R8: (1-180):67
Max (Nominal/Actual):100/180
Bonus (Nominal/Actual):80/0
[15:33:23] Bradock rolls R5 (CC:be09): 142, Reflex

[15:40:39] Bradock (katarr) swings his fist at the woman's waist, only for it to connect with her belt. A sudden wince in pain comes from him as his fist retracts. "Yow!" His hand instantly retracts from the metal and shakes out the pain of having just connected with a metal source with the momentum he had placed behind the strike. His eyes rise towards her belt which seem to be coming towards him. And, just as he was about to react, his peripheral vision catches the hammer like motion she was attempting to bash along the top of his head. He first, barely manages to slip away from her fist by leaping to one side in avoidance. He would then, lift a foot and bring it forward in a wide arch kicked, that is aimed at her flank once more - apparently, he didn't learn his lesson the last time he tried to attack her ribs.

[15:40:54] Bradock rolls R8 (CC:be0a): 84, Fighting (2 damage)
[15:41:58] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ rolls R6 (CC:be0b): 112, Reflexes/Defense
[15:41:58] Prohawk HUD:
Rolled R6: (1-160):112
Max (Nominal/Actual):100/160
Bonus (Nominal/Actual):60/0

[15:44:43] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) is more than clearly enjoying this fight, both that she had not yet hit - which means he is good to her - as that he had not yet hit - as that might be shamefully mean that she is weak. When the kick comes against her flank again, she turns around, half, quick, and slaps the shin aside with her sheer elbow, slight pain inflicted maybe, nothing lethal though. Right again she strikes herself, in the drawback motion, again the elbow, towards his very right waist. That strike is accompanied with a mean roar, a battle cry in a way, to gather the most of her strength.

[15:45:00] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ rolls R8 (CC:be0c): 158, Fist Punch against Bradock (2 dmg)
[15:45:00] Prohawk HUD:
Rolled R8: (1-180):158
Max (Nominal/Actual):100/180
Bonus (Nominal/Actual):80/0
[15:45:54] Bradock rolls R5 (CC:be0d): 99, Reflex

[15:50:37] Bradock (katarr) feels his kick being deflected by her hand catching his shin and sending it back, this, completely sends Bradock off balance though as he leg was essentially deflected back at him. He staggers for a bit, and this exactly stagger and broken root is the perfect time for her to land an attack against him. As her elbow connects with his side, Bradock lets forth a soft "Agh!" In pain as the blow connects. As both feet begin to plant themselves along the ground, pain uns throughout the side of his body as a rather fine bruise was most assuredly forming beneath his clothing. To counter, Bradock sets his focus back onto Shayra. "hey, you're pretty good yourself!" Though, this compliment is said with a grin, his hand balls into a fist and swings in a wide arch aimed at the woman's face in a rather hell-mary type of swing with a great amount of strength put behind it.

[15:50:49] Bradock rolls R8 (CC:be0e): 66, Fighting (2 damage)
[15:51:59] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ rolls R6 (CC:be0f): 56, Reflexes/Defense
[15:51:59] Prohawk HUD:
Rolled R6: (1-160):56
Max (Nominal/Actual):100/160
Bonus (Nominal/Actual):60/0

[16:00:57] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) had gotten not fast enough away from him, and then the compliment. She is damn proud, her pride is a weak spot in her, she is very accessible with compliments, and so she just wants to straighten up and grin to comment something to his compliment, as she already sees that big fist fly towards her. Barely she manages to turn away her face, a pain comes still, at the side of her head, a throbbing pain. And it makes her stumble away. There though she finally manages to laugh. Even if her vision is a bit blurry for a moment, she laughs, then grins. She likes. And she likes it a lot. Again though she uses that stumbling away for her counter attack: She spins around further, tenses up and goes low, to kick against the side of her left lower leg - with the leather part of her boot, not the iron part.

[16:01:24] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ rolls R8 (CC:be10): 117, Kick against Bradock (2 dmg)
[16:01:24] Prohawk HUD:
Rolled R8: (1-180):117
Max (Nominal/Actual):100/180
Bonus (Nominal/Actual):80/0
[16:01:35] Bradock rolls R5 (CC:be11): 119, Reflex

[16:09:16] Bradock (katarr) retracts his fist upon feeling the connection with her. He immediately draws back and, manages to return the grin she had shot towards him. Despite the pain that was throbbing through the entire flank of his body, he quite loved the chance to fight against an opponent that tested him. Squaring off once more with her, her leg rising to aim towards him is caught and, just as she did, he catches the kick by blocking it with the palm of his hand. And then, with a light push, sends her leg back towards her in an attempt to catch her off balance. He follows this by yet another punch, though, this one does not aim towards her face, but once again towards her abdomen.

[16:09:28] Bradock rolls R8 (CC:be12): 152, Fighting (1 Damage)
[16:09:49] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ rolls R6 (CC:be13): 130, Reflexes/Defense
[16:09:49] Prohawk HUD:
Rolled R6: (1-160):130
Max (Nominal/Actual):100/160
Bonus (Nominal/Actual):60/0

[16:13:02] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) runs basically by her spin directly into the new attack, She topples back from that hit against her abdomen, just above the heavy iron belt likely. She holds that spot, looks down. A hint of severe worries can be seen in her gaze. She feels again, no, the entire belly is covered by iron, and what is beneath the belly too. She lifts her gaze again, approvingly. Another nod of respect. Then she charges in against him, wild, strong, fast, brutal, savage, to just ram him off his feet or such with her shoulder against his very center, where chest and belly connect, the rip cage ends.

[16:13:24] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ rolls R8 (CC:be14): 21, Ram attack against Bradock (2 dmg)
[16:13:24] Prohawk HUD:
Rolled R8: (1-180):21
Max (Nominal/Actual):100/180
Bonus (Nominal/Actual):80/0
[16:14:02] Bradock rolls R5 (CC:be15): 68, Reflex

[16:20:14] Bradock (katarr) once again retracts his hand and shakes it rather quickly, evaporating the pain that were coursing through it from connecting. Just as was doing this though, his eyes widen as she begins to charge towards him. "Whoa!" The short distance between the two made the charge a near hit, in fact it would brush against his injured side as he -barely- manages to side step the attack. Though, he would successfully do so none the less. Fighting past he pain in his side, Bradock laces both fingers and raises his hands high over head. As she charges past him, he would send both hands flying downwards in an attempt to crash into the woman's back in a clubbing motion while she's charging.

[16:20:27] Bradock rolls R8 (CC:be16): 85, Fighting (1 damage)
[16:20:46] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ rolls R6 (CC:be17): 7, Reflexes/Defense
[16:20:46] Prohawk HUD:
Rolled R6: (1-160):7
Max (Nominal/Actual):100/160
Bonus (Nominal/Actual):60/0

[16:24:13] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) does not slam against his chest or belly, instead charging past him due to his sidestep, and feeling a hammer on her back that basically sends her flat down to the ground. At once she spins to her back to ready herself against further attacks, but then she relaxes. "Shayra no bleed, but fight man no bad, despite use magic like coward!" She commands, and gifts him a wide toothy grin. She makes no effort to stand up alone, indicating to accept being defeated in this sparring. "So what favor mageling want?"

[16:30:27] Bradock (katarr) | Shayra hitting the ground causes a wince from the man. Though, any sympathy fades from him as he witnesses the woman turns back to him and grins, a toothy grin that he returns in earnest. "I just like my nose in tact, okay? It is my best feature." Despite clinging to his side, he takes a few steps towards her until he was in range of her and extends a free hand towards her, an offer to assist her in standing. "You're pretty good. My favor?" There seemed to be little need to further think on what he desired from her. "In three days, assuming you haven't been seriously injured yourself - we will meet again at The Ugly Duckling, have a drink, then come back out here for another brawl. How does that sound?"

[16:34:30] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) lets herself be helped to stand up, uncommon, but done this time. "Three day, then drink, yes." She grunts while getting to her feet, then outright goes to fetch her gear from the stone. "Mageling no smart, drink Shayra then brawl. Shayra drink more than hand, more than hand grog, and one heavy grog, did so last time." She laughs once more, guttural, hearty. "Shayra grow barbarians, barbarian man drink much, demand Shayra drink much. You no stand feet after." Yes, there is mocking included in that, but in real she had drunken men under the table, civilized men at least, and not few had wondered how so much fits into her body that is noticeably small for a barbarian - her personal nightmare anyways.

[16:41:01] Bradock (katarr) continues to rub at the side of his body, rubbing along the flank she had attacked him once he assists her in standing. He would then, release her hand and retreat to a respectable distance from her. "We're not getting drunk, we'll just drink a bit so we can dull the pain of each other's attacks. Seriously, you hit pretty hard." The idle rubbing of his side ceases for his arms to fall to his side. "I bet you could drink me under the table. Its been a long time since I was nineteen, I haven't quite kept up my drinking habits. My tolerance has probably dropped through the floor." While he says this in humor, his grin falls for a moment in realization that, the statement probably went far over her barbarian head. "Umm, I'm just... out of practice in drinking." He simplifies.

[16:47:02] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) turns with the heavy, ancient and sharp axe in her fist, eyes narrowed due to the long sentences. There had been men who did not even understand how they had upset her, before she split their heads or necks for it. But he gets the curve. "Shayra strong! Get stronger much! Dirk strong, Dirk no accept weak woman!" She commands again, "mageling man want punch, next time no magic. Briefly she takes that axe to the left hand, eases her hair as it looks, yet in real just wants to fan the spot he had hit on her head before, the bruise pulses warm, the black hair under the sun just warms it the more. "Shayra drink man, then punch man. Then Shayra win! Man do favor then!" She nods gravely, but the entire brawl had amused her. It is a game, challenges are a game, honor debt, even if the duels end with one death. There is no way to decline, or her dead ancestors would haunt her and not allow her into the goddess' paradise to sit at the feasting table in honor and fame with her, with the goddess proud of her.

[16:53:55] Bradock (katarr) cranes his head to glance from left to right, preforming a quick visual scan of the area, something he had not done since their brawl had begun. Valesk could prove to be a dangerous place, after all. "Bradock get much stronger too." There was a simplicity about her that was somewhat comforting. "You don't want me to use magic? The magic didn't help much accept for some minor protection. But, if that is your wish, I shall oblige." This is normally a time where Bradock would bow. Yet, the pain in his side would make such painful. Instead, he would bow his head towards the Barbarian woman in respect. "No magic then. Next time, we'll have a drink or two and then spar again. If YOU win, it will be your turn to ask for a favor."

[16:57:22] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) has not understood all, but enough. "If Bradock coward, need magic, Shayra fight naked. Already done, cost more than hand lives, more than hand men dead." She brags, in real talking about her one most important fight - well after the fight of the other barbarian now claiming her. "Mage Bradock dare fight naked?" Another guttural laughter. She turns, though not back to town, back to the Wayward where her camp is.

[17:02:06] Bradock (katarr) scratches at the back of his head at her question. He did not seem embarrassed by it. Nor did he appear to be shy away from it. But, instead, his mind wracks back and forth as he tries consider -why- they would fight naked. "I, umm, don't really see the benefit in fighting naked. Though I would. But. how would my junk hanging out be any different than fighting in normal clothing... or at least in pants?" This was something that particularly boggled his brain. For, in his logical mind, there was no real difference.

[17:08:09] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) shrugs. "Mageling need magic protection, be equal Shayra, so mageling fear Shayra armor. No armor, no fear. Both naked, fair!" Is her explanation. It appears simple to her, logical, and if there would be a pantie or not, she would not even mind. "If mageling shy, mageling tell. Shayra no shy, Shayra strong! Shayra no need armor mageling!" She walks up to him, to his side though as to pass him. Being aside of him she would punch his shoulder, not hard, hard but not hurting rather. "Mageling Shayra drink three days. Until then mageling decide, decide magic, decide naked!" In act she had already went topless to the tavern even, which caused some reactions, she had not minded, she feels herself a bit like a man of her tribe yet, just in a more curvy body. "Shayra go now."

[10:59:32] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) returns to the Wayward, where Dirk and her tents are located. The shadow man had not been in the town, at least not outside, nor in the harbor. Likely the man did not want to fight the werewolves anymore. She does not know, does not care currently either. Wearing comfortable clothes which the more noble ones of her tribe had worn back at home, something she had earned by her grand battle, and something that seems to be very much to Dirk's liking, she puts her bow, her quiver, into the tent, hangs both up to the antlers she had fixed there. Back outside she checks in his tent. He is not there. Meal is soon prepared, it roasts over the fire all day anyways, hung high to not burn but stay hot. So she has some time for herself. She goes t oa nearby tree, draws her blade. She had not washed since he had claimed her, had not had time, she could do that now. But that sexual scent that comes from between her legs she enjoys. He had taken her, had loaded his fluids into her, repeatedly. A bit of it had run out again, gives her a sticky feeling down there and emits that priorly unknown scent. She wonders when she will gift him a baby, and what actually is needed to do for that. Maybe she can ask the white queen as she seems to be pregnant already.

[11:04:53] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) steps towards the tree with her long blade, a two handed sword. Only the strongest barbarians usually can guide such a weapon with one hand. She wants that, too, some day, but she is not yet strong enough. Strength is important, as much as valor, but she knows also that she needs to be able to wield the blade with high proficiency. She holds the blade flat against her forehead. "Goddess help Shayra learn," she mutters in her commanding tone, "and if no help, Goddess go to hell!" It is her kind of praying, pragmatic, straight. She goes into a low stance, stretches her left arm out towards the tree, palm facing the plant. The right arm is bent by the elbow, held up, and the blade points horizontally towards the tree as well. She narrows her eyes, focuses, drowns herself in the feeling of battle, of blood. That has a lot of room in her head, ejects all sorrows should she have any.

[11:10:59] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) begins to imagine again, as she always does. This time though it is the tree, and it moves, dances, hobbles from left to right like that mage Bradock she had sparred with a day before. What a strange man, she wonders why he had danced like this. Civilized people all are round the bend. A true barbarian does not do that, they draw clear and are ready! And so she lets the tree do his imagined dance. She goes through the default attack repertoire: bottom left slash, bottom right slash, middle left and right slashes, upper left and right slashes, vertical head slash. She knows those, enough already. She also knows diagonal slashes, or stabs, straight and lethal. What had she seen in her past? She tries to remember what the strongest of their fighters had always done best, had liked most, had won the most battles with.

[11:18:26] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) remembers the blows of that tribe champion, and she had seen him fell his enemies oh so often. But never, or rare only, he had swung the same way. He had always struck somewhere else. but then with brute force, speed and technically correct. It had been times when he beheaded others with a neck slash, a heart stab, a stab on the lower side of the arms, inner legs, the rear of the feet even. Always it had bled tremendously, always it had ended the battle. Not only once he had smacked the broad of his war axe against the temple of an enemy, or the hilt of it against the side of the neck, and the enemy had been either extremely dizzy or fainted, or even died. He had hit those spots so very good! And he had also hit other spots that were not as bad then, bled less. It grows in her that it is the spots he had hit that made his strikes, strikes he had been famous for, by intend against those special spots.

[11:25:22] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) opens her eyes back to normal. The tree seems to end to dance. She goes back to the camp where she stores guts and blood of her prey in a bucket, and fetches right that. Putting her hand deep into that bucket, she takes a dripping load of blood, and begins to paint those crucial spots onto the tree. She must hit those out of the motions, after pretending to strike elsewhere. She must move the blade in surprise and highly secure. So it had been done by that champion, with great axe, long blade, all kinds of long and heavy weapons. She plants herself in offensive stance, right in front of the tree, and begins to practice. At first she just jabs, straight thrusts against those spots, trying to get faster, to make these slashes stronger, and to get a feel where they are and hence to hit them better. She does that again and again, enduring, patient, and soon the sweat again runs down all her body. She does not stop. Before she tries to do that into motion, she must know where the spots are, be able to lead the blades right there. She had just slashed into a general height before when hitting out of spinning or jumping. For most it had sufficed, but that might not be the case in future. She wants to get better, especially also since Dirk might now watch her in real battles!

[11:31:25] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) practices for hours, without pause. She does so patiently, enduringly, not thinking about anything else. She just practices. She wants to be secure with the special spots, with how she has to hit them. While the tree sways both from her hits as from the wind, it basically stands, and so does she. Doing that in motion comes another day, when she is fit with the special spots and how to hit them. Then she would swirl, rotate, jump as next stage. And then later maybe against an enemy that moves as well, but that is the future...

[07:08:34] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) had been at the healer yet last evening, and it was not to the healer's liking, but she had been so enervating to the person that she was finally examined. She had not understood much of what the healer had said, but she had learned that she is with child now, Dirk's child! Totally excited and confused she had ran back to their tents, but Dirk had not been there. She had laid down, unable to sleep, and had waited, but he had not come. Finally she had fallen asleep but not for long. Waking up in the morning she had to hurry out of the camp again to empty her stomach through her mouth aside the tent. Totally dizzy she had laid down again. No sleep, but she had recovered over time.

[07:14:49] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) stands up and wraps her furs about her hips, takes her trusted sword and straps the harness about her upper chest. Shoes to the feet, the well softened boots. She steps outside, topless. That is her prefered appearance, much like the men of her former tribe. Now she is of Dirk's Bears. "Shayra hope it be boy..." She mutters silently to herself when thinking about the new tribe. What better honor could a woman, new to a tribe, coming from outside, get than by giving birth to a boy as first child to the tribe. She wants to go to train, her strength. Dirk should not consider her weak, should not present a weak woman to his tribe. She is already far too small for her barbarian kin, weakness is no option so. And how better could she get a strong boy than by training her own body?

[07:16:45] Dirk the Stout (laom.myanamotu) snores quite loudly, the sound carrying through the canyon. A gruff mix of coughs and snores breaking all silence. Dirk having drank way too much the night before, trying to sleep it off

[07:20:07] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) grabs for the heavy log she had put aside the tent. One foot diameter, five feet long, or wasn't it? She lifts it up, pushes it over her head. Dizzyness! She sways, damn! Concentrate Shayra, concentrate! She concentrates. Soon the stars vanish from around her eyes. But then she hears also the snoring of her man. He has been in the other tent? Why that? The log falls to the ground again, she moves over to the other tent, where she finds him, sleeping deeply. She undresses again, fully, sneaks under his sleeping fur blankets and cuddles against him. "Dirk, Shayra man, you wake!" She commands, yet in whisper. Her hand, under the fur blankets, already snakes to grab his shaft, begins to rub and pull on it, massage it.

[07:23:10] Dirk the Stout (laom.myanamotu) farts and snorts, his snores soon following again with a grumble of nearly unintelligable words "Shayra......best wif......Zzzzz" once again falling back to his snores, sounding more like a bear with a chainsaw. Having been to drunk to continue the few last feet to Shayra's tent he'd just crawled into the nearest one

[07:27:51] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) does not let go, of his cock and of his ear. She pushes him to his back, straddles his hips under the fur blanket. "Shayra challenge Dirk! Dirk make Shayra happy sex, Shayra make Dirk happy honor! Much honor!" She commands in her tone, as usual, "Shayra many honorable, honor told even by other!"

[07:32:19] Dirk the Stout (laom.myanamotu) stirs in his sleep, this time opening a weary eye "Shayra....Dirk sleep, Shayra sex dirk?" his eyes watching her "Drink much, break many chair, break table, helga smack! No ale tell dirk" his faze seeming calmer than usual. Perhaps this was due to his thoughts of shayra wanting to give him a child. "Shayra make dirk happy, Den' dirk eat, dirk drink" his mouth parched

[07:34:36] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) nods first then shakes her head. "Dirk strong! Dirk make Shayra happy. Make now! Can drink, can fight, can sex! Now!" She grunts. Having straddled him she presses his manhood's tip already against her folds, even though it is not hard yet and does not enter hence. "Or Shayra no give honor!"

[07:56:23] Dirk the Stout (laom.myanamotu) eyes grow fierce "Fine" grumbling and sitting up to wrap Shayra up in his arms, kissing her hard with intensity. his hands enveloping her small breasts with a grunt of excitement, his cock becoming hard almost in an instant. Taking shayra now by the hips and impaling her repeatedly as he lifts her and slams her down on it. "Shayra happy dirk make"

[08:01:05] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) feels how the fur blanket slides down her back as he sits up, forces her too, and rams into her. She groans loud, her breasts very sensitive currently. Her breathing quickens, and she marvels about his strength with which he just lifts her body and slams it back down. She takes it, marveling, enjoying the sensations, and when she, after a long while feels him release into her, she also comes hard, screaming her orgasm into the forest. It was perhaps not the best plan to do this now, they both seem so exhausted that they forgot about what she wanted to tell.

((Dirk had to leave for RL reasons... the telling about what she wanted to tell will be played later so))

[08:05:28] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) - later the day - resumes her training. But not with the heavy wooden log. Something else had found her eye, the mountain side, as steep as she is on the side of the Wayward forest trench. She pulls off her boots and moves to that mountain side. It seems crude, with lots of cracks and noses. She begins to climb up there so.

[08:11:07] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) grabs for the noses of the rock wall with her fingers, while her toes seek to dig into the cracks of the rock. She pulls herself up bit by bit, tensing all her muscles to keep hold, and her entire front pressed against the mountain wall. It seems more easy to her by that. And, while still heated and sweated from laying with the man who had claimed her, she feels the cold rock against her front.

[08:17:41] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) had thought about training, but not about how long this would take. And she still does not know it. She climbs and climbs, carefully as she is not the best climber. Carefully she moves each arm, each leg, alone only, seeking a stable hold, while carrying her entire own weight, plus her blade, her bow and quiver, and her fur kilt, with all she can muster. Dropping now, one single wrong grab or step, and she falls, likely to end crippled or dead.

[08:25:02] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) gets to a difficult spot. Damn, she finds no hold for her left foot at the beginning, she has to stretch it all left for that, press basically sidewards against a rock nose, but the right foot finds a similar issue. Finally near in the splits, she needs to seek a new hold for her fingers. She looks up, left hand or right hand. There seems a crack, more close to the left hand. She stretches herself to get her fingers there, no chance yet. More tension to the feet and legs to get herself up. By the toes finally only she presses against the rock noses, to get her body up a bit. And now she reaches the crack with her hand. She pulls herself up, right hand follows. She must remain stretched, to be yet able to keep the hold with her feet.

[08:33:13] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) climbs further then, this wall seems easy, simple enough for her to climb up. Still it is hard for her, hard work. And with all her muscles give, she works herself up that mountain side. She looks down - perhaps twenty meters? She is slow, but already exhausted, and her muscles are burning. She looks up. Seems she is soon atop.

[08:40:07] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) arrives finally at the top of the mountain. She is exhausted - she had forgotten to have breakfast, but she already plans to do this more often. Her baby will have to be strong, so she has to train her own body, how else should the unborn gain strength, no? At first she sits down though, to relax up there. The healer had said that the morning vomiting will remain for a while, that it is a result of the pregnancy and will end soon. Then she begins to wander back to tent...

[08:20:16] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) exits the tent. She is angry, she is furious. How could they shame her this much, or offend her rather without her having the option really to demand satisfaction, to bash them in return?! The white queen had invited her to the carnival, told her about battles she could have partaken in, and it had been a big joy for her, dearly she had craved for that. Just that then the queen's guard denies her to partake in the battles, for something as little as being pregnant? And then he had even denied to drink with her! Her heart craves for revenge, bloody revenge even. There can be no loyalty to people who dare such, the former loyalty alone being the reason why she had not busted them right away. In firm fists she holds her axe, seeks her practicing tree.

[08:28:01] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) begins her training, this time with the war axe. This time it is the training for the special attack she had once seen her tribesmate shine with. Again, a while, she practices the slashes and stabs from a standing position, just to get firm with hitting those spots at all, at least yet on a non-moving target. Yet the more she practices this, the more she will keep those spots in her mind and vision in future. So she slashes against the painted achilles tendons again, stabs for solar plexus and heart, slashes the neck sides, the temples, all those dangerous spots.

[08:37:50] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) practices such for a while, before she begins to do it out of motion. She charges against the tree, jumps against it, whirls around, each followed by a strike. She enjoys this. Should she master that one day, she will be as respected as that male warrior of her former tribe had been, the Mountain Lion tribe, a tribe located deep in the south of the Farlands, in mountains surrounding a searing hot desert. Memories and pride though have no place now, now it is training time, and onto that she must focus, totally.

[08:42:37] Sʜᴀʏʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇ Sɴᴀᴋᴇ™ (shayariel.tigerpaw) does one more attack, this time out of a charge against the tree, followed by a jump during which she spins one full round around her axis. The moment she lands a loud battle cry erupts from her lips and she slashes against the part of the tree trunk where she had painted the kidneys of a possible human enemy. The axe slices clean through the tree trunk due to that strength, making it even explode nearly at the very point. The huge tree falls over! Now she has to just practice this somehow with a moving target. But how, either during real battles or in sparring with Dirk. She could use a real battle though, as she is still furious and mad about how the guard man of the queen had offended her, how she is shamed by that as she could not reply as it is appropriate for her folk!