Link to the Previous IC~!However, for those who don't have the time to read though said IC, here's a quick synopses of what happened:
Kayech Del Vinensia, the new king and leader of the Vinsenian Army, turns out to be a sadistic man who was the old king's bastard, taking the throne through a series of brutally violent acts that it seemed were ultimately for the good of the country.(According to an age-old sword of prophecy)
As Kayech lectured on to the now slaughtered assassin, the Carthul Mercenaries set up shop inside of the border town of Charten, Belinni, having been hired to drive of the bandits that flee the approaching Vinsenian threat, lead by General Issac.
As the forces of the mountainous land of silver march closer, the Tyl family hones their battle skill against one another, clashing high in the air above the now set up mercenary camp. In the town proper, the dark mage Ersehk runs errands on the orders of Duraid Carthul, the leader of the mercenary band. He is helped out by the well-meaning Pegasus archer Barst, and the two get to splitting the workload. Elsewhere, the wandering former Knight of Vinensia, Hark, contemplates his lost purpose in exile, unaware of the approaching threat. Just outside the town, a scouting branded, Ashielle, lets loose an almost prophetic message as she slaughters a wounded boar. On the opposite side of the well-paying town, the Nsran pack wanders the markets, planning only a small stopover on their way home.
Over the horizon, a climatic battle takes place, with General Issac leading the Vinsenian force to yet another victory. Despite this, tensions rise in the camp as the newest additions to the army, a group of former bandits, refuse to take to the field, preferring the easy life of looting the defenseless villages. To complicate matters, the brigand leader gained the favor of the king, limiting the moves that Issac could take against them. In a stroke of genius, he calls forth a recently un-retired commander, Alice Von Scmitt, and orders her to throw the bandits against the fortified town of Charten, aiming for complete annihilation of the offending bandits.
For the Carthul family, the training that other people did was simply a warm-up.
In the exact center of the training grounds, two figures clashed.
Duraid was clearly the superior fighter of the two, using his massive frame and surprisingly quick reactions to shut down his daughter's offensive jabs and slices. Faris, however, seemed far from discouraged. Her own strengths lay in her youthful vigour, versus the older man's tempered endurance.
Even greater than that was the force of which her blows struck, smashing into her father's practice blade with all the strength her lithe body could muster, as the mercenary exhaled and gnashed her teeth at every failed attempt to penetrate Duraid's guard, looking angrily for a chance to strike with hate-filled eyes.
It was perhaps fate, then, that when one of her rage-filled slices impacted the edge of the warrior's sword with a jarring
clang, Duraid's grip loosened enough to have the entire practice blade knocked away from his hands, hitting the dirt with a dull impact.
Duraid, now weaponless, leaped backwards, his face as deadly serious as it was in true battle. He slid into a resting stance, positioning one foot forward and tightening a fist by his side, before taunting his now advantaged opponent with a pointed glare.
The lull in the mock-combat lasted for a single, breathless second as both Carthul combatants locked eyes, one jade set gleaming with overflowing confidence, the other dark and serious.
In the next moment, Faris charged with explosive force, whipping the blunted iron blade around in a glimmering arc as she leaped toward her father's muscular shoulder, her face a picturesque mask of barely contained glee.
She could almost taste the victory.Several things happened all at once.
The much larger warrior took a step forward, twisting his foremost arm around in sideways block that smashed into Faris' sword arm, directly impacting the tendons and veins that clustered around her wrist. The other arm launched from his side, barreling forward and into his daughter's gut like a mace made of bone and sinew, impacting with the dull thud of flesh on flesh, before withdrawing as soon as it came.
Faris, no longer grinning, spasmed as she lost all strength to the lower half of her body, unable to take a breath as she fell to the hard-packed dirt below. The dulled sword clattered down next to her, lying rather awkwardly against her now bruised right arm. She struggled momentarily, managing to draw in a hacking gasp of air as the mercenary glared up at her father, locking eyes with the man who just defeated her so soundly.
Duraid's eyes held none of the warmth that he reserved for the 'family' he'd built up as he leaned over his own flesh and blood, staring down at the doubled-over form of his daughter, who could barely breathe without a hacking retch. His next words were as icy as his gaze.
"You lost because of overconfidence. This is a recurring problem. Fix it before trying again."
