Scrub Mage

What Are You Listening To?

What Are You Listening To?

Mass Effect: Sinless

After careful consideration and hours of scraping through Dossiers, @Amaranth and I have determined which of you folk would be most suited for our current mission.

To start, we'll list those who we felt did not make the cut. Comments here will be rather barebones because of HIPAA. If you are curious about your case, please submit a PM to @Scrub Mage.

@DJAtomika Hazan does not meet the standards set by other applicants.
@Fallenreaper Vellios does not meet the standards set by other applicants.
@Lotrix Molick Tinari does not meet the standards set by other applicants.

@Star Lord Yanagita Shunji is a fine character, but unfortunately, there are a few issues which prevent us from accepting him at this time. If there is an opening, you'll be kept in mind.
@Eisenhorn While we quite liked Voto'tos, we feel that the role he fills is occupied by other characters of just slightly higher quality. Should their be an opening, you'll be kept in mind.
@Rtron I absolutely adore Key. I don't dish out this comment often at all, so please take it for all that it is worth. If there is an opening, you'll be kept in mind.

Now for the rest of you lot. Again, I'll keep my comments rather plain in comparison to what I want to write, but this is simply because I have spent the last two days stewing over your characters and cannot wait to take a break. As with above, PM me if you'd like more specificity regarding my thoughts.

@Dervish Ardan is a straight-edge with a bit of neurosis. From the application you've submitted it is clear that you crafted your character with an eye aimed toward the rich Turian culture and with a desire to have a fully realized individual. All that I would recommend is doing a quick proofread before switching Ardan over to the characters tab.

@Stormflyx Naryxa is the mother the group needs. Her view seems to be much more tame than some of the others, but her long history will give her an insight that the other characters seem to lack. Personally, I am interested in seeing how you handle PTSD with an Asari. Just about the only notes I would before switching her over to the character tabs would be mostly just to do some light proofreading. Personally, the second-to-last paragraph raises some questions about the seriousness of her Mercenary career for me, but I will leave that to your discretion.

@Spoopy Scary Shy is a golden god. Move her over. The only thing I'd have you do is some proofreading. It feels like you got tired while writing the application, so just clean some of that up so it flows better, thanks.

@Hank Kyo is, aside from Key, the character which screams Shadowrun the most to me. His background in Corporate Espionage also makes him a prime candidate for the work the crew will be doing. The only thing I'd really like to see out of him is more specificity regarding the philosophies he draws from, but as it stands now I am fine with him moving over to the characters tab. Also, even though it is a joke, please remove the line regarding Kai Leng from the misc.

@Mortarion Khosin is a great foil to Ardan, given his reformed racism. His character reminds me of Gaichu from Shadowrun: Hong Kong, and his viewpoints will provide a nice contrast to just about everyone in the party. His philosophy of war offers combined with the aforementioned reformed racism offer an interesting character dynamic that I don't think is present in the others. Just do some proofreading and cleaning up before moving him on over.

@Heat Zaash provides an interesting take on a Vorcha. Not only that, but considering the amount of people who hate Vorcha for no good reason in this party, it will be interesting to see how they change with him in their lives. While we're not exactly sure what the extent of Vorcha biotics is in-universe, I am willing to take a leap and let the Vanguard get through. Aside from proofreading, all that we require you to do is carefully consider the effects of addiction on a Vorcha. A part of me wonders if it would be possible for a Vorcha to become addicted to Red Sand in the first place, considering their physiology is hyper-adaptable to conditions including resource scarcity. I'd say you are accepted, but before moving over to the Character Tab let's have a discussion to figure that bit out.

Alright, now that you're all out of the way, I suppose I can devote time to planning the rest of the RP. : ^ )

Mass Effect: Sinless

Cherk Sab

[ 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲, 𝐈 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭. ]

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𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄

Volus

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑

?

Cherk Sab, like some of "his" kin, likes to make a game out of guessing his gender when talking to other species.

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒

Infiltrator

Cherk Sab's infiltration techniques are oriented more toward behind-the-scenes activity. Things like forging identities, wiping camera footage, and hacking into banks are more his forte, as opposed to outright combative techniques.

𝐀𝐆𝐄

?

Cherk Sab remains rather elusive about this, though the Volus claims to remember the First Contact War firsthand. It seems clear that the Volus is on the older end of the spectrum, but who can know for sure?

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

Maskawa

Cherk Sab was born on Talis Fia, and received training on Taetrus, but ultimately considers Maskawa (or, more specifically, Ten-Clan Academy) home.

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𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

The military-grade environmental suit Cherk Sab wears is an older thing, which has clearly seen a lot of lively action. Multiple scars are apparent on close inspection, and the chipped orange paint is all but gone nowadays. The name tag on the right breastplate seems fresher than the rest of the armor, but those who travel with the Volus know that the name is changed regularly. Aside from this, great care is taken to minimize the damage, and there are a few repairs which are nearly seamless, almost calling into question whether there are even more repairs which go unnoticed.

Due in dual part to the discreet nature Cherk tries to keep, as well as the nature of being limited to an environmental-suit, most of Cherk's identifying features are found in his body language. The Volus walks with a slightly heavier left step than right, and his hands seem like they're always prepared to inspect goods - almost like a Pyjak ready to steal food. He tends to take breaks while walking often, though these can be either to catch a breath or to stop and take in the sites. His posture is rather good, all things considered.

In combat the Volus looks almost completely different. His stance is very clearly trained, and even his usual habits of being left-footed and leisurely seem to disappear. The way he holds himself is reminiscent of a Turian, though obviously not as outwardly imposing.

During negotiations, the Volus is surprisingly intimidating. He stands as if he were always holding the higher ground, and his hands take on a much more defensively aggressive shape. He often makes use of gestures which are vaguely similar to crushing fruits and lobotomizing sentients, and he stands almost like a Turian authoritarian rather than a Volus merchant.

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𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄

Cherk Sab is a rather private individual, though he appears at first glances to be helpful, a man of his word, though a gullible sort who has a tendency to get wrapped up in strange schemes. As a Fixer, Cherk is a shrewd businessman with a charismatic personality. He has a way of appealing to folks from all backgrounds, which he attributes to his economic mindset. When dealing with unsavory business, he tends to offer sympathies to his targets, often claiming that he regrets it as much as they do. His words are often laced with sincerity, and the way he holds his voice is like that of a guilt-ridden tax collector. With most sorts, he acts as though he is an agent lacking autonomy, and is simply doing his job.

Of course, Cherk Sab is a multi-faceted volus with a series of behavioral quirks that lie hidden beneath the surface.

As a result of his time on Taetrus, Cherk also has many Turian mannerisms. Chief among these are habits regarding promotion and recruitment. Cherk often goes out of his way to ensure that he does not put responsibilities on individuals he doesn't believe to be capable of carrying them out. His spirit is surprisingly strong given his attitudes, and he occasionally claims that not even the Hastatim could quell him. He holds himself as a Turian citizen usually would, and in place of a proper historian, chronicles the tale of his squads. These are documents he is very careful about, and he has multiple copies of them stored at different locations.

To start: Cherk is aggressively and obsessively organized, and is constantly tweaking small things to make sure they aren't crooked, misaligned, or otherwise out of place. He is fixated on small details that others sometimes overlook, and is constantly examining his possessions for signs of things like dirt, rust, or slight misalignment. At odds with this, is a hoarding tendency. As a result, Cherk's quarters are cluttered, organized towers of personal treasures which others would probably discard as junk. They form something which seems like a city grid - easily navigable roads with "districts" being organized (and constantly reorganized) based on utilitarian standards. Of course, this carries over to his work, and he is often trying to find the cleanest, most organized, way of doing something. This leads to an often over-prepared approach that has taken far too long of a time to perfect.

At his core he is a true sellsword, even if the blade has chipped off for the most part. His allegiance belongs to the highest bidder, and his friendships are usually those of economic benefit. Those who he considers to be under his employ are folk that he attempts to mentor in some capacity, and they are the recipients of no-holds-barred assistance. He offers his aid to these individuals in most any way he can, though he often likes to utilize moments like these to foster efficient cohesion, rather than genuine bonding. Cherk claims to have no issue with abandoning those who no longer serve his purpose, though he also says such things as, "Look at how well redundant organs work for the Krogan. It doesn't hurt to keep a few happy individuals in your back pocket."

Cherk makes constant show of trustworthy actions when it comes to potential marks. The volus likes to be in the good graces of nearly everyone, and has no qualms with forging separate personas for each entity he deals with. Cherk is by no means a yes man or a fence sitter, but he is an efficient liar and truth stretcher which goes out of his way to appeal to the egos and personalities of these entities he seeks to impress. When dealing with the Eclipse of Illium, he is nowhere near as authoritative and strict as he is with the Blood Pack of Omega. He believes in earning respect for his character, though such a concept of personal character means something completely different in the hands of Cherk, given the multiple identities he claims ownership of.

If there is one thing that defines Cherk, it is the notion of Greed. The volus has a nigh endless appetite for credits, and is constantly trying to accumulate as much as possible. He often takes risks which he shouldn't in the name of credits, and will dig underneath most every cushion he can for a credit chit. No job is too big or too small for Cherk, so long as he can negotiate a comfortable price. But, this by no means means that the volus is stingy. In fact, he operates under a mentality of using accumulated wealth to create more means of accumulating wealth. To this end, he makes sure to secure the best jobs, and uses the connections he has made throughout the years to help arm whichever crew he represents at a given moment. However, it is also from this greed that his ambition blooms, and he considers it a boon.

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𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐏𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

Blood Pack Executioner

_{Heavy Barrel}

_{Phasic Rounds}

_{Piercing Mod}

Cherk's preferred peacemaker. Examination of the gun reveals modifications made with the intent of piercing shields and armor alike.

"Coffe Mashine"

An ordinary coffee machine.

Savant Model Omni-Tool

This Serrice Council Omni-Tool appears as a standard model on Cherk's wrist, though some gearheads might recognize it for its true worth.

𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒

Decoy

For misleading those who might spot him while he's tapping terminals.

Recon Mine

Mainly to keep tab of unit movements throughout the areas he haunts, though can serve as a means of defensive violence in a pinch.

Sabotage

Cherk Sab's experience with system sabotaging is primarily the infiltration and manipulation of databases to create false positives.

Shield Boost

A lifeline that Cherk uses to provide support on a battlefield, though can also be used to save himself from enemy fire in a pinch.

Tech Armor

Cherk's brand of Infiltration is less of a sneaky thief, and more of a ghost in the machine. As such, he chooses to forego Tactical Cloak, instead making use of Tech Armor in the event of a sticky situation. What good would a cloak do you if the enemy riddles you with bullets as you try to escape?

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𝐁𝐈𝐎

_{𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐎𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐚, 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐩𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐥 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 – 𝐡𝐨𝐰’𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬?}

Originally born on Talis Fia, Cherk Sab is, technically, a native of the Terminus Systems. The first fifteen years of his life were spent on the planet as the son to two transportation managers, and if there were one word Cherk would use to describe the experience, it would be affluent. Cherk received the best education money could buy, and his household was stocked with servants to serve his every whim. While his parents were absent, Cherk did not mind – such was life, and so long as they could continue to support a life of luxury, he did not mind. Of course, the two pushed him to learn their trade so that he could support his own children, and maybe succeed where they had failed: in becoming the leader of a clan. Of course, as many children do, Cherk rebelled against this notion, and did everything in his limited power to apply for special military training, an oddity amongst those of his clan and even a bit of an oddity amongst the Vol-Clan. Luckily, the young volus’s parents thought it would whip him into shape, and so they used what connections they had to ship him away to Palaven, fully expecting him to return without an urge to branch out. Or so he claims, at least.

Cherk Sab became a citizen of the Turian Hierarchy.

The road to citizenship was long and difficult, but it was exactly what Cherk wanted out of life at the time. He served in an auxiliary unit with other Vol-Clan, and for a time they were inseparable. Most of their time was spent training, though after a few years of regular drills they began to see action (mainly against pirates and insurgents). Their role was mainly to support the Turians they accompanied, often performing screening duties. Cherk himself was appointed to heavy weaponry, a role which he was surprisingly fit for at the time. By the time the Relay 314 Incident, Cherk and his crew were ready to see their first full-scale war. Though at the time bitter about it, Cherk was lucky enough to avoid deployment on Shanxi, and so he never held bitterness against the humans. Life went on until the unit was mustered out, and Cherk was a fully-fledged citizen of the Turian Hierarchy. Along with the other Vol-Clan he had served with, Cherk found a job in public service for a time, settling into a role which was comfortable.

At some point, Cherk was asked to transfer into Requisitions. A higher-up whom he had known for some time had scouted him for his organizational mind and attention to detail, though the transfer would require further, specialized education. While Cherk was a citizen of the Turian Hierarchy, he requested that he be sent to Ten-Clan Academy on the surface of Maskawa. The request was partly a way to show his devotion to the cause, his literal willingness to die for the cause if need be, but also because of a desire to be among Vol-Clan again, who he and his superiors both knew were more skilled at business development. Though it was a risky decision, he managed to squeeze his way (just barely) into the Academy, and within the week he was shipped back to the Terminus Systems for an education.

Ten-Clan Academy proved to be the foundation for the volus Cherk Sab is today. He found that life on Maskawa wasn’t what he had grown used to. Things weren’t nearly as organized as he had grown used to, and whenever he had finished studying for the night, he was bored. His room was already organized, and with few possessions there was nothing much to do. Cherk began to play Galaxy of Fantasy in his spare time, and, funnily enough, supplemented his economic studies by examining the online game’s player economy. He kept frequent tabs on the marketplace, watched developer updates put in place to help it along, and kept careful track of the patterns it developed. Watching it was fascinating to him, and the next semester he applied for Computer Science classes so that he could build V.I.s which watched the game’s market when he was in class. Cherk kept in touch with his old squad and sent frequent reports to his superiors so that they knew they weren’t wasting funds on his education. His marks were more than enough to prove he was ready for the position, and he even landed a position as Treasurer.

About halfway through his time at Ten-Clan Academy, it lived up to its reputation.
While the security measures of Ten-Clan Academy are impressive, the occasional slaver gang will manage to get past them. Cherk remembers the event vividly even to this day, as it was his first real combat experience without the Turian Hierarchy supporting him, with only a mass of Vol-Clan who were unfit for battle, to say the least. The pirates rounded up students and whichever guards had been weak enough to surrender, and those that resisted were either beat into submission and in two cases, outright shot. Most anywhere else, that would have been a death sentence, but on the surface a Maskawa such cases tended to be salvageable (at least for Vol-Clan).

As much as Cherk would like to say he singlehandedly killed the slavers and saved the day, the truth is that he was weaponless, had been beaten for initial resistance, and had been prepped for cargo to someplace off-world. He felt humiliated, as if all his training had been a waste on behalf of the Turians, and that feeling lingered for a long time afterward. It was only thanks to the heroics of a guard, who had managed to hide away until the captor of Cherk’s group had turned his back, that Cherk wasn’t sold into slavery. The Drell had been an import from Kahje, and Cherk made it his duty to support him as he used to do with the Turians. Most of the other Vol-Clan cowered, though there were a few who stood with the duo, and they went through the Academy doing whatever they could to sabotage the efforts of the pirates.

Cherk’s leg was broken during an encounter with one of the slavers, and he was forced to sit with the cowards who sat and watched as others did the work. But, he survived, and so did most of his peers. His leg healed up, though it left him with a slight reluctance. He’d shot down a few slavers himself but insisted that it was thanks to the Drell and the other valiant students and faculty. The incident may have been reported, but it was common enough that it might just as well not have been. Cherk sought no glory for the events, convinced that his first exposure to combat without a clear superior had been a failure. Regardless, his education continued, and after only a handful of similar events, he was on his way back to Turian Space, this time with a role which suited him just fine.

The next few years of Cherk’s life was spent securing requisitions at the lowest price possible, brokering trade agreements for resources, and reigning in a V.I. army which had been dedicated to watching the galactic marketplace. The work was stressful, and Cherk lost many nights of sleep during the course of his service, though he consistently made sure to do his duty to the best of his ability. He received a few more promotions, until, one day, he was transferred to the Citadel.

While initially Cherk had been excited about the change of scenery, he came to loathe the job. He slept every night, and he was given much more freedom than he had ever had before, even at Ten-Clan Academy. His superiors were adept at handling their own money, and the accounting V.I.s Cherk had put into place made sure that they kept a healthy balance. He had, effectively, automated himself out of the picture. He was still on call, though, in the rare event something went wrong.

In desperate need of something to draw his attention, Cherk applied for a job with a banking firm in the Lower Kithoi Wards, wanting to slink away from the uppity sorts that he was now forced to interact with day in and day out. Within days, Cherk was caught up in an ultra-competitive market, trying desperately to recruit people into the fold of his firm. Frequent client meetings with the biggest credit holders saw him falling down a hole of increasingly deprave actions. What began as business-oriented outings to the clubs of the Kithoi Wards turned into helping potential customers crack the codes of slot machines, and from there it turned into helping actual customers move large sums of money in ways that seemed legal.

Really, it all happened in a blur. It wasn’t long before Cherk was managing the estates of some of the biggest criminals on the Citadel, and he was buying up businesses left and right to help solidify the acquisition of funds as legal. When it was impossible to do it without a paper trail, he created one out of thin air instead. The bureaucratic system that was in place here on the Citadel was full of rules which almost anyone could learn if they had the time – which the Spirits know Cherk did – and if you knew the rules you could create a person from nothing. It was more than just a way to pass time at this point, it had become a way to live out a megalomaniac fantasy that Cherk had never realized he had.

Things came to an end after a client ratted him out to the authorities over a petty dispute.

Cherk was forced to broker passage with the footmen of one of his clients as they smuggled goods off the Citadel and to the Terminus Systems, but he still had the courtesy to submit his resignation. The journey was long, and to kill the time, Cherk played Galaxy of Fantasy whenever he was in range of comm buoys. When he couldn’t swing that, he organized the cargo that he was now an accomplice in transporting. It wasn’t too long, but by the end of it, Cherk had nothing but a few lingering connections. He was forced to start over in Omega, and the next decade or so was fraught with criminal violence.

While Cherk prefers not to talk about it too in depth, his time in Omega isn’t too hard to gleam. The volus has kept a relatively low profile, though he has come to be the manager for one of the big players on the rock. He tends to operate through proxies to place himself in less danger, because the Spirits know that he’s made more than his fair share of enemies. He carries a Blood Pack Executioner with him, and he’s rather adept at using it. Whatever he does discuss tends to be vague, and the volus frequently redirects questions.

Of the things he openly discusses is that he has served as a mercenary since coming to Omega. He’s done the boot-work, he’s helped gun down high-profile targets, and he claims to have once helped bring down a space station with the aid of six other mercenaries. He’s used his skills to help mercs get in and out of Citadel Space without raising any flags, and he’s even helped a few faces escape even the Terminus Systems in terms of identity. Since then, he’s built numerous connections and even reasserted himself as a fierce trade presence, though one which tends to operate through fake identities and proxies. He has no quarrels with gunning down a Vorcha in the alleyway when a deal goes sour and does so on a rather frequent basis.

Recently, he’s taken a much more relaxed role as the handler of a Quarian by the name of Kori’andh. In return for a guaranteed steady supply of jobs he takes a Fixer’s fee. The most recent of these jobs regards the transportation of a few freelancers, through a source which is paying everyone involved more than a measly sum of credits. The whole thing reeks like a Pyjak’s corner in the cargo ship, but the paper trail is as legitimate as they come, and it’s an easy enough job for him and Kori’andh to handle, so long as the freelancers do their part.

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𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐇𝐒

Discreet Nature

As a Volus, Cherk is often overlooked (both literally and figuratively). His unimposing figure lets him get away with things a Krogan wouldn't, and his uncanny ability to act according to the situation means that he's often forgiven for doing things that he shouldn't.

Merchant

Years of operating as a merchant means that Cherk not only that Cherk is a shrewd negotiator, but also that he has connections across the galaxy. Want a Geth Pulse Rifle? It's probably doable, but why would you want one of those hunks of junks when you can get your hands on a Graal Spike Thrower?

Paper Trail

Years of dealing with Red Tape has made Cherk an expert of navigating the minefield of bureaucratic archives. As a result, Cherk has become an expert forger, able to create convincing fakes of anything you'd need to, well, exist (on paper, that is). Need a fresh new identity? You got it. Want access to better stock at a vendor? It's doable. Need access to classified bank data? Of course - but you should probably get a burner identity first.

Saboteur

Years of infiltrating banks, casinos, and merchant inventories has made Cherk rather adept at hacking. While he isn't the best for, say, disabling weapons, he's more than adept at infiltrating secure networks, cracking encrypted comms, and making sure that his crew is a priority for new jobs.

𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒

Greedy

Cherk is driven to accumulate more credits. He will take side jobs even if he has to do it on his own, he will work too many hours and get no sleep, and he will even try to negotiate better deals with superiors who would vent him through an airlock. Additionally, he absolutely hates selling anything that he considers to be his, and so he is often dealing with a storage issue.

Obsessive

Cherk is often distracted by things which pique his obsessive tendencies. This can make him a bit of a bother when he's visiting your quarters, but it can also make it a hassle to get things done quickly - even under gunfire.

Paranoid

A lifetime of doing under the table double dealings has made Cherk cautious that others are trying to double deal him. Meetings with him tend to be planned around this "inevitability", and saying or doing the wrong thing often results in the barrel of his trusted Executioner in your stomach.

Volus

As a volus, Cherk has to play ultra-safe. A Quarian can survive a suit rupture so long as they can beat an infection, but Cherk can't survive his flesh splitting open, or a lack of ammonia in the air. Additionally, his short legs means that he moves quite a bit slower than others, and he will undoubtedly lose any and every hand-to-hand combat he enters.

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𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂

Gamer Profile for PhinnG2129,

Most Used Character: Zada Ban, Level 543 Hanar Occultist
Group Affiliation: Keeper Safety Vests (14th Highest Ranked Guild)
Most Recent Boss Defeated: Kardan, Krogan Werevarren
Awards:
- Reformed (Awarded for good behavior following account suspension)
- Runner-up DPS (Event: Night of the Living Geth)
- Slayer of Kalros (Event: Return of the Old Ones)
- Willing to Help (Community Award)
Infractions:
- Unsportsmanlike Behavior (toxic behavior after player refused to share loot); challenged but not overturned, received 3-day account suspension

Mass Effect: Sinless

I don’t think Amaranth plopped up a Discord server yet, so here’s a link:

discord.gg/TMyx5jh

I’ll tell her to add it onto the OOC.

Shadowrun-style Mass Effect adventure

Obligatory expression of interest.

What Are You Listening To?

What Are You Listening To?

Forbidden Partnership

Sirius sighed. Bryn had come a long way since they had first met, but two hours just wasn’t good enough. He yawned, creeping age getting the best of him. Well, they could do better, but now was a perfect time for a break. He pushed his own sword to the ground. It wasn’t his most favored weapon – he preferred a two-handed club, though he had always been told that such a thing was primitive – but, it was the weapon he’d brought along for this excursion. Bryn had taken to the rapier, and so she wouldn’t have been able to parry his club strikes unless she was particularly gifted (and, even then, it was unlikely).

“Well, I suppose we could stop for now. Enjoy the view. It’s not the reason I picked this spot, but it is a nice consequence which we shouldn’t ignore. Consider this a training in how to keep up morale.”

Training on the tops of the mountains was important. For one, it was closer to the gods, and they always enjoyed a pleasant show. But on the other hand, Sirius was as practical as he was holy, and he knew that so far up there was less air to breathe in. It was a subtle thing, but it would mean that the body would tire sooner, and it would become disciplined faster. He tried to bring her to such high places often, but it was also important that she got the feel for other terrains. A warrior who could only fight in the desert was ill equipped for a swamp, after all.

Sirius sat himself on a rock, taking a breath. He’d let Bryn rest for a few minutes, but they had to get back to training. Of course, if he pushed himself any further, they’d have to rest here. While Sirius hadn’t yet detailed his plans exactly, he figured that they ought to head toward some of the Southern grasslands, do some rounds and find a few places to train. The villagers there tended to keep to themselves, but there were a few mountains which he had gone to for pilgrimage underneath his own teacher. Admittedly, he would probably be committing a crime of some sort by training his own apprentice there, but at this rate it didn’t matter much.

Sirius stood, reaching for his sword again. Thirty more minutes of training, and then they’d still be able to make it.

“Bryn, you better lift that sword, else I’ll leave you ‘ere alone.”

Sirius was going to train, regardless of whether his apprentice followed suit. This last thirty minutes was going to be for him. While, physically, he hadn’t held back on Bryn, he was still using somewhat basic swordplay techniques. Thing he’d learned at her age, but with more than a few years of muscle memory to back it up. Despite being an unfavored weapon, he’d still learned at least a few things beyond just bare fundamentals, so he figured now was as good a time as any to show them to Bryn.

Sirius’s motions were swift, but less forceful. It was not that he was holding back, but rather, he was planning to disorient Bryn with a flurry of blows. While he was growing tired, he knew that his apprentice must be more so. Of course, it was important to him that she knew how to fight against it. His intense barrage was slower than he figured he could do, just a warm up so that his apprentice could see some of the openings in such an attack. Of course, he was no master, so perhaps it was too slow. But, Sirius reasoned to himself, it was good to train her observation skills.

Forbidden Partnership

Sirius chuckled. She was different than he’d been when he was her age, that much was true. But it was refreshing to see something different. Most Iriliean knights were very stuck up, especially early on. They knew this technique and that technique, had studied under this master or that, had a gleaming gem-encrusted hilt for their sword, were prepared to see men die, and so on. Once he’d heard a kid gloat about how proficient he’d grown at slicing goats. Some of the older knights laughed about how great of a butcher he should be, but he wound up being trained nonetheless. Someone in his family had, apparently, too much wealth on their hands.

But to hear someone admit that they want to learn was refreshing. It was rare. Or maybe he just hadn’t been listening. He’d never actually trained an apprentice, and there were some higher-ups breathing on his neck to produce an “heir”. He couldn’t take a female apprentice, however, so he would have to let the girl down gently. Still, she had promise. Purpose, even. Then again, she’d also just leveled a man to the ground. Then again, he’d done worse. A terrible predicament, really. So, Sirius opened his mouth to deliver the bad news.

And, just then, his back started to ache.

“Damnable age…”

The words came out as a mumble just barely under the breath.

“Tell you what. I need to gather some provisions. If you help me lug some of the stuff around, I’ll help you with your form. But that’s about it.”

Someone as persistent as her would probably follow along, accept the deal, and try to negotiate something better later. Easier to break the news without breaking his back. So, Sirius turned around, trying his best not to showcase his old age. His walk was still confident, filled with all the luster of an aged knight. Of course, part of him felt off giving a show, but knights were supposed to look their best. Or something like that.

Sirius weaved through the capital with expert direction. He’d been here many times. It was, arguably, his home. Of course, a nomadic lifestyle like his negated any real roots, but he had friends here. He returned his orders here. Wasn’t that what a home was? Sirius grumbled in his mind, knowing full well that the answer was no. He didn’t turn to face the village girl. With luck, she’d have sought out someone younger. That’d take a load of guilt off him.

Well, maybe his back ache was fate trying to steer his hand. That rule against ladies being knights was as old as the order itself. No wonder no fresh blood came in. A bunch of nobles sent in their vastly underprepared sons to play at being soldier for a few years before coming home without having done anything in service to their liege, or even worse, having been changed by the things they’d seen. The few village boys were often better at this sort of thing. They were used to hard work. Often, they were dedicated. Motivated, some of the time. Sure, Sirius himself had technically been the son of a noble, but he was already used to hardwork before then. A noble’s life never suited him. And, to be frank, it still didn’t.

“Aye, just up ahead in here.”

Sirius had navigated the paths offhandedly, not really paying attention but still knowing full well where he was headed. A little shop with walls overflowing with necessities. And, even better, the owner was a dear friend who gave him his favorite pastries. The owner gave him whatever pastries he’d baked for the day. A life of war was over for this shopkeep, twenty-two years too late. Those years would have been spent better at a bakery of his own. Regardless, too many pastries later and with an excess of other provisions to lug around (food, water, a couple of torches, and everything an old knight would need to be overprepared), Sirius was done with his business.

“Alright, basic weight training. Do this enough and you’ll be strong. Make sure you don’t throw out your back. We go until you’re tired, then I’ll help you with your form.”

Truthfully, he’d never trained an apprentice. And most of his knowledge was muscle memory. He’d forgotten what his instructor looked like by now. Well, not really. He still remembered him very vividly. But only his face. His name had escaped him some years back. But now that he was acting as an instructor, it almost came back. Not quite, though.