05-09-2018, 08:45 PM
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I GOT A BONE TO PICK
[W]iskerI GOT A BONE TO PICK
[div style="background-color:#BG COLOR;width:90%; overflow: stretch;text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;"] Argus is not unaware of her own weakness.
Ever since she has taken up her new name she has been realized with the power that poisened her mortal frame. Like hot iron pooling her blood. bleeding throguh her muscles and she spent moments of the day shuddering to control it. Hiding the fresh black ichor as it bleed from her maw under the careul shawl of her once shadowed pelt. But now her fur reflects the light. And while this body was once scarless no one bothered to guess that the color of her pelt was a symptom to something horrid. The name now lost on her tongue- left to fester within a tome that the watcher dare not pick up again.
But it is fine now. Her blood runs red and a sure fire sign of her claim- her mask at being mortal. She has little clue to if it is because of the once constant thrum that she only has memories of is no longer presence. A reckless volatile creature with habits of someone with the ability to automatically heal- now practically powerless. She would wonder if she is loosing her god-hood her claim to being a shinigami if it weren't for the glaring state of her throat. Not the weeping wounds or bandaged limb but the gaping hole that shoots through the entirety of her throat.
While it is true she has lost her weapon both physically and mentally. The sword she had not outright tried to seek merely because she hasn't truly wanted all the responsibility having that weapon again- would entail. She had not seeked the spirit touched blade because she was not sure how it another conscious would fit within the ever evolving psyche of her own tormented mind.
Hell, she hasn't even used a proper weapon in a fight since she lost her blade. Pincher thinks it's best to put her in a position not only to man the rest of her crewmates with similar blades and armor- but to train them in it? Well, he was not fully aware of what kind of monster he had under his thumb- nor was he aware of everything about her. In fact most of the crew were all quite secretive of their past. He probably had little clue what he was digging into asking her of this. Then again- she has asked for a way to better help the clan. It would do her good to teach for now. At least while her injuries are healing. Until she could try branching and glide again she will have to make do.
So she made her way into anchored tempest. One of the first time the officer has stepped anywhere close onto this boat beside to sleep in her quarters- and quickly disappeared within the undertow of the ship to seek the already prepared weapons and crates. Better to start with a little class now- take inventory of what they had now and work from there. There was no place to even make weapons- so she would have to set for making a place for that along the beach maybe within the week if she was lucky.
For now she enlisted a few NPC's to help her haul the weapon crates out of the ship. Pulling them to the dock and into the island's earth. Along the statues that stand on each end of the dock horizontally, the officer leans against a crate and grins- peering down into one of the crates to see a familiar blade.
Obsidian carved, with a purple glint to the jagged edged blade. She hadn't a clue how her sword had ended up here, but amusing the origins of this clan's happening were thieves and traitors. Maybe someone had stolen it for the pile or killed her grandfather for it. Maybe it had been here all along when she abandoned it. Waiting for her to stumble upon it she griped the handle between her jaws. Careful. Overjoyed to feel the familiar thrum of power between her fangs in the woven handle.
No she had not looked for her blade, but having it here was a comfort she was going to take. Pulling the blade closer her to herself. Letting the woven handle unwind and close around the edges of the blade. Covering it from sight. She turned her head and settled along her back and got back to work. The weight of the blade under her folded wings- the only change in the officer being the glow to her eyes and the inconspicuous handle that pocked from the right side of her neck from under her wings.
It is now well into the afternoon. Where most nocturnal are finally waking up just before the light of the sun could fade into the horizon. Argus now stands on a sort of rug that's about the size of her wingspan if she bothered to open her wings. Big enough for her crew mates to spar on and consider the grass that it rests on out of bounds if you touch it. Better than having to go around and collect rocks and create her own circles to help with training. Tall rocks that will work well for testing dummies outside of the circle and towards the other side of the clearing. Boxes and crates stacked. A few pairs of each weapon sitting in the grass.
" Alright crew mates! If any of yall are interested in arming yourselves you've gotta come sit down here and show me what you got. Need a weapon? Feel free to browse too. Just know you're not leaving without showing me you know what your doing with it." Because she wasn't an idiot, wasn't going to let idiots wonder around with weapons unless she knew that they wouldn't hurt themselves trying to harm the enemy.
"I've got a sparring ring here for yall to try out your own weapon of choice with me, and some 'dummies' set up for you to get a feel of yall's weapon o' choice." Said dummies consisted of rocks with paintings of frowns and sometimes just the word B E CK on them. As well as a few smaller tree's for the heavier weapons to try and cut down.
Ever since she has taken up her new name she has been realized with the power that poisened her mortal frame. Like hot iron pooling her blood. bleeding throguh her muscles and she spent moments of the day shuddering to control it. Hiding the fresh black ichor as it bleed from her maw under the careul shawl of her once shadowed pelt. But now her fur reflects the light. And while this body was once scarless no one bothered to guess that the color of her pelt was a symptom to something horrid. The name now lost on her tongue- left to fester within a tome that the watcher dare not pick up again.
But it is fine now. Her blood runs red and a sure fire sign of her claim- her mask at being mortal. She has little clue to if it is because of the once constant thrum that she only has memories of is no longer presence. A reckless volatile creature with habits of someone with the ability to automatically heal- now practically powerless. She would wonder if she is loosing her god-hood her claim to being a shinigami if it weren't for the glaring state of her throat. Not the weeping wounds or bandaged limb but the gaping hole that shoots through the entirety of her throat.
While it is true she has lost her weapon both physically and mentally. The sword she had not outright tried to seek merely because she hasn't truly wanted all the responsibility having that weapon again- would entail. She had not seeked the spirit touched blade because she was not sure how it another conscious would fit within the ever evolving psyche of her own tormented mind.
Hell, she hasn't even used a proper weapon in a fight since she lost her blade. Pincher thinks it's best to put her in a position not only to man the rest of her crewmates with similar blades and armor- but to train them in it? Well, he was not fully aware of what kind of monster he had under his thumb- nor was he aware of everything about her. In fact most of the crew were all quite secretive of their past. He probably had little clue what he was digging into asking her of this. Then again- she has asked for a way to better help the clan. It would do her good to teach for now. At least while her injuries are healing. Until she could try branching and glide again she will have to make do.
So she made her way into anchored tempest. One of the first time the officer has stepped anywhere close onto this boat beside to sleep in her quarters- and quickly disappeared within the undertow of the ship to seek the already prepared weapons and crates. Better to start with a little class now- take inventory of what they had now and work from there. There was no place to even make weapons- so she would have to set for making a place for that along the beach maybe within the week if she was lucky.
For now she enlisted a few NPC's to help her haul the weapon crates out of the ship. Pulling them to the dock and into the island's earth. Along the statues that stand on each end of the dock horizontally, the officer leans against a crate and grins- peering down into one of the crates to see a familiar blade.
Obsidian carved, with a purple glint to the jagged edged blade. She hadn't a clue how her sword had ended up here, but amusing the origins of this clan's happening were thieves and traitors. Maybe someone had stolen it for the pile or killed her grandfather for it. Maybe it had been here all along when she abandoned it. Waiting for her to stumble upon it she griped the handle between her jaws. Careful. Overjoyed to feel the familiar thrum of power between her fangs in the woven handle.
No she had not looked for her blade, but having it here was a comfort she was going to take. Pulling the blade closer her to herself. Letting the woven handle unwind and close around the edges of the blade. Covering it from sight. She turned her head and settled along her back and got back to work. The weight of the blade under her folded wings- the only change in the officer being the glow to her eyes and the inconspicuous handle that pocked from the right side of her neck from under her wings.
It is now well into the afternoon. Where most nocturnal are finally waking up just before the light of the sun could fade into the horizon. Argus now stands on a sort of rug that's about the size of her wingspan if she bothered to open her wings. Big enough for her crew mates to spar on and consider the grass that it rests on out of bounds if you touch it. Better than having to go around and collect rocks and create her own circles to help with training. Tall rocks that will work well for testing dummies outside of the circle and towards the other side of the clearing. Boxes and crates stacked. A few pairs of each weapon sitting in the grass.
" Alright crew mates! If any of yall are interested in arming yourselves you've gotta come sit down here and show me what you got. Need a weapon? Feel free to browse too. Just know you're not leaving without showing me you know what your doing with it." Because she wasn't an idiot, wasn't going to let idiots wonder around with weapons unless she knew that they wouldn't hurt themselves trying to harm the enemy.
"I've got a sparring ring here for yall to try out your own weapon of choice with me, and some 'dummies' set up for you to get a feel of yall's weapon o' choice." Said dummies consisted of rocks with paintings of frowns and sometimes just the word B E CK on them. As well as a few smaller tree's for the heavier weapons to try and cut down.