Post by Khaosraptor on Jul 19, 2021 17:01:49 GMT
The chill of the Tempest bastion had not been exaggerated, Tyran had discovered upon arriving a few months back. His Vaalix had informed him of the semi-permanent position there whilst the Zentheran situation was being resolved, and as such he was to remain until further notice. His time had been spent as much the same as it had always been; practice his martial skills, meditate, review the current events of the Galaxy though the macrys network. He felt as if he had been missing out on an opportunity for conquest, unlike Tempest Gael or Tempest Skroll. Such jealousy sent him into more meditation to quell his juvenile desires of adventure and yet they came. He desired something to occupy himself.
It seemed today that desire would be answered.
The Bastion sat on the border of the Echotian Empire, concealed within the icy grasp of its White Dwarf star; it was a system that was generally ignored by the larger nations of the surrounding galactic systems. Yet, despite all of this, it was not impossible for those of other nations to happen upon it, either hoping it was a spot of refuge, or simply being drawn to it through accident. Nevertheless, Tyran had been alerted that a vessel; small, but still a vessel, had entered the far edge of the system.
"You think it's a derelict?", Tyran asked inquisitively, his breath turning to mist in the frosty air.
"Unlikely, Volras", the Echo monitoring the macrys nodes in-system reported, "The vessel appears piloted. Lost or not, they've managed to find the system. Shall I issue the turn around?"
"Right away, Kahris." Tyran replied, "Make sure they understand who they're dealing with."
-----------////-----------------////////////--------------
-/-Attention, unauthorized vessel, you have entered into the realm of the House of Tempest. By order of the United Echotian Empire, you are to return to a neutral location of your choosing. If you do not comply, your vessel will be boarded, and you will be subject to arrest/-
Kaezha had been travelling for a while now, the Unanimity going into lockdown mere days after she left.
She had not answered the call to come back. She had things to do, after all.
The purple Artifcia stumbled over some boxes as she crashed her way to the cockpit, reaching for the box of buttons and switches controlling the small ship's comms, her thought swimming.
Well, I found someone. she thought to herself.
Wait a second. Tempest? Kaezha frowned. Weren't they on the net? One of the important ones?
A moment.
Kaezha grinned as she managed to properly reach the controls.
"Hey! You're the Echos right?! The guys really good with swords?! One of the big renowned clans too! You're just who I'm looking for!" came the synthetic voice of the woman. "I wanna learn to use one!"
As Tyran listened to the response, curiosity seemed to bubble from the back of his mind. It was not often outsiders sought them out to learn from the best, and he was suspicious of the sudden appearance of an aspiring sword-user.
As the menial began a response, he was immediately interrupted by a snarl from Tyran. A hesitant hand retracted from the console before him as Tyran patched his personal macrys into a direct message with the vessel.
-/-You come here, unannounced, and ask to be trained in the most honourable form of combat by the best of the best of our nation. Tell me, Ko'an, why should I train you?-/-
There was a pause, as Kaezha considered her position, before the comms line lit up again.
"Because where the hell else am I supposed to go? I can't just ask any random alien with a sharp metal stick if I wanna be the best swordswoman in history, and my people sure as shit don't know how to use one! I want to be able to cut down anything without needing a gun, big or small." she declared, a beat as she remembered that simply stating why she wanted to learn wasn't likely gonna cut it.
Ha, cut it.
"And besides. Generation after generation of your own people is one thing; it's how your people work. All the more impressive if you can prove you can make someone of a different species just as good, am I wrong?"
Tyran grinned beneath his helm; she was trying her best to be persuasive, he'd give her that.
There was technically no reason why they couldn't take her in, he was acting Volras after all, but would training the alien send a message to other nations about their leniency with security.
It will be unofficial, keeping off records wouldn't be hard in this isolated space.
-/-I am sending you docking coordinates for your vessel. You must exit your ship as it will be searched upon disembarking, but I will allow you to learn here. But we can discuss that once you're aboard.-/-
"Excellent, see you soon then." came the Artificia's voice one last time, before the small ship's engines reignited, turning for the station and approaching.
The ship, as it entered the hangar, was effectively the stellar equivalent of a small old earth yacht, for what the analogy was worth; amenities for one or two people, enough components to get the ship around, a nice hull casing to make it look smoother than a mass of bricks bolted together, and not a lot else. A magnetic barrier shielded the vessel from micrometeoroids and debris, but the ship's main defence against piracy was literally the negligible gain.
Regardless, here it was, something written in some alien tongue emblazoned on the hull.
The woman who stepped off it, clad in a base, moderately form-fitting jumpsuit with rolled up sleeves, knee-high boots, some form of waistcoat, something tied around her waist, and a coat draped loosely over her shoulders and what might've been a sword on her hip--evidently intending to come prepared--, was what a human would call slightly on the taller end, a purple visage with hair somewhat roughly tied back into a short but thick, spiky ponytail, arms crossed as she stepped off the boarding ramp onto the station proper.
The docking yard of the Tempest bastion was barren for the most part. The air was cold and as Kaezha descended the boarding ramp, a small flow of mist seemed to coalesce around her ankles.
Waiting for her was an Echo in military attire, helm on, cloak over the left shoulder and right hand resting calmly on the hilt of a sword.
Standing at attention behind this Echotian were three figures in black armour who, as the Artifician found her footing on the hangar floor, ascended into her ship.
The lone Echo, warbled something to himself behind the helm, before approaching Kaezha. Even with her height, he still stood a few inches taller than her, and his angled helm looked down on her as he spoke.
"It is not often we allow others such as yourself into our midst. I hope, for your sake, that this is truly what you wish to undertake. Come, I will show you to your quarters."
"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't." was all Kaezha answered, moving to follow. "In case I didn't mention, my name is Kaezha." she added.
The ship was on the more unkempt side, things placed more out of convenience rather than any degree of organisation, a few things hanging tenuously in supply nets and a paused music player she had evidently forgotten to switch off, a single bed towards the back. The cockpit was mildly more organised, more out of necessity than anything.
After discovering nothing that could be considered a threat to the station, the three Echos descended from the ship.
Tyran nodded, before turning and leading Kaezha down a corridor to a lift, where they ascended several floors. The temperature remained cold, and the conditions felt uncaring for comfort in favour of function. Rooms were only as large as was required, and open areas they passed were either filled with training equipment, or quiet meditation 'gardens'.
Next to one of these quiet zones, Tyran came to a stop, gesturing to a door as it slid open from the centre. He then looked at Kaezha.
"This room will be yours for the time being. Once you are inside you shall be prompted for a word or phrase. It shall become your passcode for your stay. Every room in this bastion has a clearance level, and saying your passcode at any of them will either open it or remain closed. I would suggest you get some rest, we start your training with the rest of the Tempests in five hours."
The Tempest took a step back, and motioned for the open door.
Kaezha followed silently, observing the rooms and halls as they traversed the station, committing them and their location to memory. The cold didn't bother her, and she was used to spartan, pragmatic architecture; her own people built things much the same, though they didn't build miniature gardens and had a greater penchant for firing ranges than sparring rings. It was familiar, but strange at the same time.
It was an uncertain feeling.
Kaezha nodded to Tyran again without a word, pausing ever so briefly before, with a hint of trepidation, stepping inside.
As Kaezha entered, there was a slight whir as the single pale light activated, revealing a somewhat roomy space. The door slid closed behind her as she took a few more steps inside, revealing an adjoining room to the one next to hers.
The room she currently occupied was oddly decorated, as if someone had only seen human-like furnishings from a picture. A small couch, white and pristine faced a small oval table. What passed as a cabinet held several swords of various designs, each looking more like antiques than actual sparring swords.
A gaze into the adjacent room revealed a single bed with a simple blanket, above which another small light glowed faintly.
The rooms were warmer than the corridors outside, and as Kaezha stood there, a clear, faintly female voice similar to Kaezha's spoke.
"Passcode."
A new home, huh?
Well. Not like Kaezha had ever found much for herself, anyway. Constantly moving about the fleets back home, never staying in one place for too long. And across the many decades she had lived, longer than many humans would live without the joys of modern science and medicine, that had been a lot of places.
Still, there was one place she'd stayed for a long time. As much as she despised the planet, and the people on it, and as much as she beamed with joy the day ships flying the banner of the Artificia during the Rebellions appeared in its skies, it was the planet she was made on. Where she spent her formative years.
It was as close as she had to an origin home. She wasn't about to forget the name.
Kaezha exhaled, slowly.
"Arrikara."
"Passcode: 'Arrikara' Accepted."
The voice went silent as Kaezha was suddenly left in relative silence, save for the whispered whir of the room light.
From outside the door, distant clashing of swords could be heard. Shouts were muffled in the distance, though the words were lost to Kaezha.
Kaezha took a moment to take in the room, mulling over her thoughts.
Well. She was committed. No backing out now.
The purple Artificia smirked. Not like she intended to.
Rolling her shoulders and letting out a sigh, Kaezha spun on the spot, stepping back outside, a hand absentmindedly sat on the blocky scabbard of her sword. She wasn't going to get anything done lazing about in a bedroom.
The barren corridors of the Tempest bastion were free of clutter and the doors Kaezha passed on her way neglected to open as she passed. At the end of the hallway was another spacious sparring pit that opened up before her, containing a group of five echotians. The clamour of their blades continued as one of the Echotians began to approach the Artificia.
His face was uncovered, presenting a youthful face marred by a single scar that crossed his face horizontally. His braids were pulled back into a ponytail, giving his face an angular appearance. He wore what appeared to be a simple pair of dark blue sweatpants and a black shirt with short sleeves.
"Greetings, Artificia. I had heard of the Volras allowing one of your kind into the bastion, though I will say I did not know what to expect."
"Well." Kaezha sighed, her shoulders straightening a touch. "I hope I don't disappoint while I'm here. Didn't yell into my comms unit for nothing." she lifted her head with a smirk, feeling slightly overdressed in comparison with her several layers.
Well. Damn the norms, she didn't have a biology to overheat and as far as she thought she looked damn good.
"You need something, dreadlocks?"
The echotian grinned, his eyes almost gleeful, and Kaezha found it hard to gauge his reaction as good or bad.
"Just admiring the competition, seeing what you're about. It's not everyday the Exemplars pick up strays, rarer still when they aren't of House heritage."
The clamor of blades stopped suddenly and a cheer rose from the other Echos in the room, a victor chosen, a loser marked.
The Echo turned back to Kaezha, crossing his arms and leaning back to his full height.
"So, I hear they call you Kaezha? Care to show me what you've got?"
Kaezha wasn't entirely sure how to take 'admiring the competition', a small, restrained noise leaving the Artificia at that, her eyes drifting to the freshly ended duel.
"Well, uh..." she paused. "I haven't actually been shown anything yet, so I hope you ain't expecting a master. Yet." she shrugged, looking back.
"And whaddo they call you, dreadlocks?"
The echo laughed, focused on Kaezha now.
"No one is here because they have finished their training. Many of us are just beginning our journey. And you may call me Ryot."
Ryot turned, taking a sword from the loser of the previous duel, while letting out a small warble to clear the ring for himself and Kaezha.
"So how about it, little light? Just show me what Tyran is working with here."
A moment, as Kaezha considered.
"...Alright, sure." she nodded, stepping into the ring, twirling her sword in its scabbard once, grabbing the handle and drawing it with a hiss of metal as it came back around. Like the scabbard the blade was long, rectangular, and not exactly thin, a blade reliant more on weight and impact than sophistication, though other elements of its design seemed to hint it was at least a heatblade; she did not, however, turn it on, the blade remaining a cold black.
"How you wanna do this?" she asked, testing the weight in her hand.
Ryot twirled the blade in his hands, its slender shape and angular grip sitting comfortably in his grip as it came to a stop. Unlike the comparably meaty variant of Kaezha's, this sword was definitely designed with finesse in mind; graceful and lithe, much like the echos themselves.
"Just let me see your form and footwork. Don't worry about holding back, I can handle whatever you throw my way."
Ryot took a few steps back, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he turned to look at Kaezha once more. He held the sword two-handed, angling the blade till it pointed directly at Kaezha's chest. His face was serious, but it was clear he was focused, like a well versed teacher of many pupils.
"When you are ready."
Kaezha leaned into her own stance; somewhat lacking in balance on the sides, but remarkably well-suited to bracing against a blow from the front. Either Kaezha had a moderate intuition, or she had been watching a lot of movies.
Regardless, she wasn't here to show off a defensive stance.
Exhaling slowly--a largely cosmetic gesture for an energy-based being--her eyes narrowed slightly as her grip tightened with a faint groan of fabrics.
And then, she was off, thundering towards Ryot as fast and hard as her legs could carry her. She knew Artificia didn't weigh a lot and that worked against her in terms of throwing one's weight around. So, she had to rely on her strength; hit hard and hit fast, giving them no time to use her low weight against her. With a grunt of bared teeth the purple woman swung, her sword coming around into a hard swing from her right.
She was a clever one, he would give her that.
Ryots' blade swung left to meet hers, but with no intention of blocking the blade. Hers was a heavy blade, and she channeled her strength into it. His own blade showed little resistance, but guided the heavier sword upwards to swing high as he stepped right, bringing them closer and ensuring her swings would be harder to accomplish. His secondary eyes watched her sword motions, while his primary set watched her eyes, ensuring he was informed of where her attention was and where she might strike next.
"Come on Kaezha, everything you've got!"
Most people at a moment like this would likely move back, break the sword lock and give themselves room to move, and think.
Kaezha either had never clued in to why that was--in that swordplay had a lot more strategy and thinking than some gave it credit for--or she was far too rash to consider it worth the time.
"Alright then!"
Baring her teeth Kaezha's boots dug in, bringing the sword straight down, crashing off the blade or Ryot's own weapon with a burst of sparks, attempting to bring it straight down onto the Echotian's head.
Ryot's eyes widened, though to say he was caught off guard would be a little much. She displayed her intentions enough for Ryot to predict her attack, but being untrained, Kaezha's exact swings were difficult to know where they would land.
Ryot brought his own blade up to meet hers, using his superior height to force her arms to extend in order to accomplish her swing.
Kaezha's arms didnt stop their downward swing, too much force behind the attack to do so. Ryot would feel an alarming amount of force strike his blade but incredibly little weight behind it, trailing off after a blink of an eye.
However, the sheer weight difference between Kaezha and Ryot combined with the resilience of Ryot's defence came into play as a result, Kaezha forced off balance by her own strength.
The Artificia stumbled back, her eyes going wide as her arms cycled wildly in an attempt to balance herself, coming to no avail as the purple-skinned energy being crashed onto her rear.
"...Crap..." she muttered after a moment.
Ryot knelt down before Kaezha, placing the blade to the side and offering her a hand.
"If I'm being honest, it was a sloppy display, but all great knights start off as whelps in some way or another. You show promise, Kaezha. I look forward to sparring with you again in the future."
As the Echo pulled Kaezha to her feet, there was stillness to the room. Ryot suddenly turned towards the source to find Tyran standing, arms folded across his armoured chest, watching them both. Ryot had not heard the other Echos leave, nor had he seen Tyran enter, and had no idea how long he had been watching. Quickly the knight offered a salute to his superior, before giving Kaezha a nod.
"Good luck."
The Echo then departed, leaving the Tempest Exemplar alone with his student.
Tyran waited until Ryot was gone before turning back to Kaezha, his helmed face gleaning no emotion or hint of his intentions.
"I can see you are eager to begin your training, dueling one with such renown as Ryot."
Kaezha almost stumbled herself, whipping around. After a moment to compose herself, the purple Artificia stood straight, placing her hands on her hips.
"Well, I wasn't exactly aware of his station." she shrugged.
"He challenged me, but I suppose I did accept. Did you come here to find me, or just passing through?"
Tyran laughed, an odd sound that boiled up from within his chest, but was unmistakable nevertheless.
"Something you will learn is that the new blood is always tested. Many are eager to test the water, so to speak, to see what you're made of. To see what you've brought to us."
The Exemplar kicked up the sword at his feet, snatching it out of the air and flicking the handle to Kaezha.
"I am interested more in what you can become."
--------------///---------//---------
It seemed today that desire would be answered.
The Bastion sat on the border of the Echotian Empire, concealed within the icy grasp of its White Dwarf star; it was a system that was generally ignored by the larger nations of the surrounding galactic systems. Yet, despite all of this, it was not impossible for those of other nations to happen upon it, either hoping it was a spot of refuge, or simply being drawn to it through accident. Nevertheless, Tyran had been alerted that a vessel; small, but still a vessel, had entered the far edge of the system.
"You think it's a derelict?", Tyran asked inquisitively, his breath turning to mist in the frosty air.
"Unlikely, Volras", the Echo monitoring the macrys nodes in-system reported, "The vessel appears piloted. Lost or not, they've managed to find the system. Shall I issue the turn around?"
"Right away, Kahris." Tyran replied, "Make sure they understand who they're dealing with."
-----------////-----------------////////////--------------
-/-Attention, unauthorized vessel, you have entered into the realm of the House of Tempest. By order of the United Echotian Empire, you are to return to a neutral location of your choosing. If you do not comply, your vessel will be boarded, and you will be subject to arrest/-
Kaezha had been travelling for a while now, the Unanimity going into lockdown mere days after she left.
She had not answered the call to come back. She had things to do, after all.
The purple Artifcia stumbled over some boxes as she crashed her way to the cockpit, reaching for the box of buttons and switches controlling the small ship's comms, her thought swimming.
Well, I found someone. she thought to herself.
Wait a second. Tempest? Kaezha frowned. Weren't they on the net? One of the important ones?
A moment.
Kaezha grinned as she managed to properly reach the controls.
"Hey! You're the Echos right?! The guys really good with swords?! One of the big renowned clans too! You're just who I'm looking for!" came the synthetic voice of the woman. "I wanna learn to use one!"
As Tyran listened to the response, curiosity seemed to bubble from the back of his mind. It was not often outsiders sought them out to learn from the best, and he was suspicious of the sudden appearance of an aspiring sword-user.
As the menial began a response, he was immediately interrupted by a snarl from Tyran. A hesitant hand retracted from the console before him as Tyran patched his personal macrys into a direct message with the vessel.
-/-You come here, unannounced, and ask to be trained in the most honourable form of combat by the best of the best of our nation. Tell me, Ko'an, why should I train you?-/-
There was a pause, as Kaezha considered her position, before the comms line lit up again.
"Because where the hell else am I supposed to go? I can't just ask any random alien with a sharp metal stick if I wanna be the best swordswoman in history, and my people sure as shit don't know how to use one! I want to be able to cut down anything without needing a gun, big or small." she declared, a beat as she remembered that simply stating why she wanted to learn wasn't likely gonna cut it.
Ha, cut it.
"And besides. Generation after generation of your own people is one thing; it's how your people work. All the more impressive if you can prove you can make someone of a different species just as good, am I wrong?"
Tyran grinned beneath his helm; she was trying her best to be persuasive, he'd give her that.
There was technically no reason why they couldn't take her in, he was acting Volras after all, but would training the alien send a message to other nations about their leniency with security.
It will be unofficial, keeping off records wouldn't be hard in this isolated space.
-/-I am sending you docking coordinates for your vessel. You must exit your ship as it will be searched upon disembarking, but I will allow you to learn here. But we can discuss that once you're aboard.-/-
"Excellent, see you soon then." came the Artificia's voice one last time, before the small ship's engines reignited, turning for the station and approaching.
The ship, as it entered the hangar, was effectively the stellar equivalent of a small old earth yacht, for what the analogy was worth; amenities for one or two people, enough components to get the ship around, a nice hull casing to make it look smoother than a mass of bricks bolted together, and not a lot else. A magnetic barrier shielded the vessel from micrometeoroids and debris, but the ship's main defence against piracy was literally the negligible gain.
Regardless, here it was, something written in some alien tongue emblazoned on the hull.
The woman who stepped off it, clad in a base, moderately form-fitting jumpsuit with rolled up sleeves, knee-high boots, some form of waistcoat, something tied around her waist, and a coat draped loosely over her shoulders and what might've been a sword on her hip--evidently intending to come prepared--, was what a human would call slightly on the taller end, a purple visage with hair somewhat roughly tied back into a short but thick, spiky ponytail, arms crossed as she stepped off the boarding ramp onto the station proper.
The docking yard of the Tempest bastion was barren for the most part. The air was cold and as Kaezha descended the boarding ramp, a small flow of mist seemed to coalesce around her ankles.
Waiting for her was an Echo in military attire, helm on, cloak over the left shoulder and right hand resting calmly on the hilt of a sword.
Standing at attention behind this Echotian were three figures in black armour who, as the Artifician found her footing on the hangar floor, ascended into her ship.
The lone Echo, warbled something to himself behind the helm, before approaching Kaezha. Even with her height, he still stood a few inches taller than her, and his angled helm looked down on her as he spoke.
"It is not often we allow others such as yourself into our midst. I hope, for your sake, that this is truly what you wish to undertake. Come, I will show you to your quarters."
"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't." was all Kaezha answered, moving to follow. "In case I didn't mention, my name is Kaezha." she added.
The ship was on the more unkempt side, things placed more out of convenience rather than any degree of organisation, a few things hanging tenuously in supply nets and a paused music player she had evidently forgotten to switch off, a single bed towards the back. The cockpit was mildly more organised, more out of necessity than anything.
After discovering nothing that could be considered a threat to the station, the three Echos descended from the ship.
Tyran nodded, before turning and leading Kaezha down a corridor to a lift, where they ascended several floors. The temperature remained cold, and the conditions felt uncaring for comfort in favour of function. Rooms were only as large as was required, and open areas they passed were either filled with training equipment, or quiet meditation 'gardens'.
Next to one of these quiet zones, Tyran came to a stop, gesturing to a door as it slid open from the centre. He then looked at Kaezha.
"This room will be yours for the time being. Once you are inside you shall be prompted for a word or phrase. It shall become your passcode for your stay. Every room in this bastion has a clearance level, and saying your passcode at any of them will either open it or remain closed. I would suggest you get some rest, we start your training with the rest of the Tempests in five hours."
The Tempest took a step back, and motioned for the open door.
Kaezha followed silently, observing the rooms and halls as they traversed the station, committing them and their location to memory. The cold didn't bother her, and she was used to spartan, pragmatic architecture; her own people built things much the same, though they didn't build miniature gardens and had a greater penchant for firing ranges than sparring rings. It was familiar, but strange at the same time.
It was an uncertain feeling.
Kaezha nodded to Tyran again without a word, pausing ever so briefly before, with a hint of trepidation, stepping inside.
As Kaezha entered, there was a slight whir as the single pale light activated, revealing a somewhat roomy space. The door slid closed behind her as she took a few more steps inside, revealing an adjoining room to the one next to hers.
The room she currently occupied was oddly decorated, as if someone had only seen human-like furnishings from a picture. A small couch, white and pristine faced a small oval table. What passed as a cabinet held several swords of various designs, each looking more like antiques than actual sparring swords.
A gaze into the adjacent room revealed a single bed with a simple blanket, above which another small light glowed faintly.
The rooms were warmer than the corridors outside, and as Kaezha stood there, a clear, faintly female voice similar to Kaezha's spoke.
"Passcode."
A new home, huh?
Well. Not like Kaezha had ever found much for herself, anyway. Constantly moving about the fleets back home, never staying in one place for too long. And across the many decades she had lived, longer than many humans would live without the joys of modern science and medicine, that had been a lot of places.
Still, there was one place she'd stayed for a long time. As much as she despised the planet, and the people on it, and as much as she beamed with joy the day ships flying the banner of the Artificia during the Rebellions appeared in its skies, it was the planet she was made on. Where she spent her formative years.
It was as close as she had to an origin home. She wasn't about to forget the name.
Kaezha exhaled, slowly.
"Arrikara."
"Passcode: 'Arrikara' Accepted."
The voice went silent as Kaezha was suddenly left in relative silence, save for the whispered whir of the room light.
From outside the door, distant clashing of swords could be heard. Shouts were muffled in the distance, though the words were lost to Kaezha.
Kaezha took a moment to take in the room, mulling over her thoughts.
Well. She was committed. No backing out now.
The purple Artificia smirked. Not like she intended to.
Rolling her shoulders and letting out a sigh, Kaezha spun on the spot, stepping back outside, a hand absentmindedly sat on the blocky scabbard of her sword. She wasn't going to get anything done lazing about in a bedroom.
The barren corridors of the Tempest bastion were free of clutter and the doors Kaezha passed on her way neglected to open as she passed. At the end of the hallway was another spacious sparring pit that opened up before her, containing a group of five echotians. The clamour of their blades continued as one of the Echotians began to approach the Artificia.
His face was uncovered, presenting a youthful face marred by a single scar that crossed his face horizontally. His braids were pulled back into a ponytail, giving his face an angular appearance. He wore what appeared to be a simple pair of dark blue sweatpants and a black shirt with short sleeves.
"Greetings, Artificia. I had heard of the Volras allowing one of your kind into the bastion, though I will say I did not know what to expect."
"Well." Kaezha sighed, her shoulders straightening a touch. "I hope I don't disappoint while I'm here. Didn't yell into my comms unit for nothing." she lifted her head with a smirk, feeling slightly overdressed in comparison with her several layers.
Well. Damn the norms, she didn't have a biology to overheat and as far as she thought she looked damn good.
"You need something, dreadlocks?"
The echotian grinned, his eyes almost gleeful, and Kaezha found it hard to gauge his reaction as good or bad.
"Just admiring the competition, seeing what you're about. It's not everyday the Exemplars pick up strays, rarer still when they aren't of House heritage."
The clamor of blades stopped suddenly and a cheer rose from the other Echos in the room, a victor chosen, a loser marked.
The Echo turned back to Kaezha, crossing his arms and leaning back to his full height.
"So, I hear they call you Kaezha? Care to show me what you've got?"
Kaezha wasn't entirely sure how to take 'admiring the competition', a small, restrained noise leaving the Artificia at that, her eyes drifting to the freshly ended duel.
"Well, uh..." she paused. "I haven't actually been shown anything yet, so I hope you ain't expecting a master. Yet." she shrugged, looking back.
"And whaddo they call you, dreadlocks?"
The echo laughed, focused on Kaezha now.
"No one is here because they have finished their training. Many of us are just beginning our journey. And you may call me Ryot."
Ryot turned, taking a sword from the loser of the previous duel, while letting out a small warble to clear the ring for himself and Kaezha.
"So how about it, little light? Just show me what Tyran is working with here."
A moment, as Kaezha considered.
"...Alright, sure." she nodded, stepping into the ring, twirling her sword in its scabbard once, grabbing the handle and drawing it with a hiss of metal as it came back around. Like the scabbard the blade was long, rectangular, and not exactly thin, a blade reliant more on weight and impact than sophistication, though other elements of its design seemed to hint it was at least a heatblade; she did not, however, turn it on, the blade remaining a cold black.
"How you wanna do this?" she asked, testing the weight in her hand.
Ryot twirled the blade in his hands, its slender shape and angular grip sitting comfortably in his grip as it came to a stop. Unlike the comparably meaty variant of Kaezha's, this sword was definitely designed with finesse in mind; graceful and lithe, much like the echos themselves.
"Just let me see your form and footwork. Don't worry about holding back, I can handle whatever you throw my way."
Ryot took a few steps back, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he turned to look at Kaezha once more. He held the sword two-handed, angling the blade till it pointed directly at Kaezha's chest. His face was serious, but it was clear he was focused, like a well versed teacher of many pupils.
"When you are ready."
Kaezha leaned into her own stance; somewhat lacking in balance on the sides, but remarkably well-suited to bracing against a blow from the front. Either Kaezha had a moderate intuition, or she had been watching a lot of movies.
Regardless, she wasn't here to show off a defensive stance.
Exhaling slowly--a largely cosmetic gesture for an energy-based being--her eyes narrowed slightly as her grip tightened with a faint groan of fabrics.
And then, she was off, thundering towards Ryot as fast and hard as her legs could carry her. She knew Artificia didn't weigh a lot and that worked against her in terms of throwing one's weight around. So, she had to rely on her strength; hit hard and hit fast, giving them no time to use her low weight against her. With a grunt of bared teeth the purple woman swung, her sword coming around into a hard swing from her right.
She was a clever one, he would give her that.
Ryots' blade swung left to meet hers, but with no intention of blocking the blade. Hers was a heavy blade, and she channeled her strength into it. His own blade showed little resistance, but guided the heavier sword upwards to swing high as he stepped right, bringing them closer and ensuring her swings would be harder to accomplish. His secondary eyes watched her sword motions, while his primary set watched her eyes, ensuring he was informed of where her attention was and where she might strike next.
"Come on Kaezha, everything you've got!"
Most people at a moment like this would likely move back, break the sword lock and give themselves room to move, and think.
Kaezha either had never clued in to why that was--in that swordplay had a lot more strategy and thinking than some gave it credit for--or she was far too rash to consider it worth the time.
"Alright then!"
Baring her teeth Kaezha's boots dug in, bringing the sword straight down, crashing off the blade or Ryot's own weapon with a burst of sparks, attempting to bring it straight down onto the Echotian's head.
Ryot's eyes widened, though to say he was caught off guard would be a little much. She displayed her intentions enough for Ryot to predict her attack, but being untrained, Kaezha's exact swings were difficult to know where they would land.
Ryot brought his own blade up to meet hers, using his superior height to force her arms to extend in order to accomplish her swing.
Kaezha's arms didnt stop their downward swing, too much force behind the attack to do so. Ryot would feel an alarming amount of force strike his blade but incredibly little weight behind it, trailing off after a blink of an eye.
However, the sheer weight difference between Kaezha and Ryot combined with the resilience of Ryot's defence came into play as a result, Kaezha forced off balance by her own strength.
The Artificia stumbled back, her eyes going wide as her arms cycled wildly in an attempt to balance herself, coming to no avail as the purple-skinned energy being crashed onto her rear.
"...Crap..." she muttered after a moment.
Ryot knelt down before Kaezha, placing the blade to the side and offering her a hand.
"If I'm being honest, it was a sloppy display, but all great knights start off as whelps in some way or another. You show promise, Kaezha. I look forward to sparring with you again in the future."
As the Echo pulled Kaezha to her feet, there was stillness to the room. Ryot suddenly turned towards the source to find Tyran standing, arms folded across his armoured chest, watching them both. Ryot had not heard the other Echos leave, nor had he seen Tyran enter, and had no idea how long he had been watching. Quickly the knight offered a salute to his superior, before giving Kaezha a nod.
"Good luck."
The Echo then departed, leaving the Tempest Exemplar alone with his student.
Tyran waited until Ryot was gone before turning back to Kaezha, his helmed face gleaning no emotion or hint of his intentions.
"I can see you are eager to begin your training, dueling one with such renown as Ryot."
Kaezha almost stumbled herself, whipping around. After a moment to compose herself, the purple Artificia stood straight, placing her hands on her hips.
"Well, I wasn't exactly aware of his station." she shrugged.
"He challenged me, but I suppose I did accept. Did you come here to find me, or just passing through?"
Tyran laughed, an odd sound that boiled up from within his chest, but was unmistakable nevertheless.
"Something you will learn is that the new blood is always tested. Many are eager to test the water, so to speak, to see what you're made of. To see what you've brought to us."
The Exemplar kicked up the sword at his feet, snatching it out of the air and flicking the handle to Kaezha.
"I am interested more in what you can become."
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