Upon the Autumn Wind [Attn: Roan]

[Sean]

It was that time of the day. Only a light peppering of souls dotted the sandy stretch of land that was the Warder Yards. Autumn was pronounced by the coloring of leaves though they were magically swept away from the training grounds by the invisible keepers who tended the Yards. Of the remaining number, Accepted, free from their studies and enjoying the open air, were the greatest presence. A man of uncertain age move fluidly through stretches. Grace was as evident as power in each pose, the unceasing dance showcasing equal parts litheness and muscle. Besides Valadin and the older man, the only other inhabitant was a woman with sharp facial features that in the setting sun light gave her a feline look.

Breathing as he clad himself with the Void, Val closed his eyes and moved with practiced ease through the poses Fodhr had shown him over two years ago now. Though the sun's heat had died down, nights in the Two Rivers county remained uncomfortably warm. Before making it halfway through the routine, Val's breaths were short and his skin glowed with the sheen of perspiration. After losing his balance twice, he gave up, shaking his head in disgust. Fodhr would've tore into him real good if he saw how miserable Val looked. Not like I've had too many people to practice on..., he told himself, but that justification seemed hollow even to him.

Sighing as the coming evening air filled him and restored some his earlier vigor, he procured a practice lathe sword. Immediately his eyes went to the woman. For a time he simply watched her movements noting the lightness of her step and the general confidence that marked her as more than a freshling in combat. She was shapely too.

Quite shapely.

A flashing picture of Nykk entered his mind and a pang of guilt followed. Just a quick spar's all I'm after. Nuthin wrong with that...just go over there. Before he could convince himself otherwise, Val crossed the distance between them, his expression a mirror of Nykk's Aes Sedai blankness; at least he hoped it was.

“Pardon," he coughed upon approaching the woman. This close the feline shape of her face took on a more feral visage as concentration sharpened everything about her. She was like a living blade waiting to be unsheathed. Even as towered above her, Valadin felt as if his size and strength offered him no advantage. “Pardon," he said again, this time his voice a little softer as he waited to be acknowledged.

[Roan]

The presence of fall was not lost on Riahana as she moved through sword forms. With the Void adeptly wrapped around her, she pivoted on her right foot as she pulled her blade through the air in a graceful arc. The exercises she was currently doing were to work on balance, thus none of the strokes were meant to be used in battle. Any who didn't know the purpose of her movement would consider her a novice with the blade. . .unless they watched closer. Her movements were graceful as a cat, and her concentration never waned.

The Gaidar Captain had heard the man approach, and was astutely aware of his presence. She was not about to break form until she finished her stroke. . .not unless there was an emergency or urgency on his part, and there seemed to be neither. Only after Ria brought the blade down, and the man said 'Pardon' once more did she turn her gaze on him, letting the Void fall away. She could not help but look him over without actually looking him up and down. It was force of habit for Ria to examine those who approach and determine what level of threat they might be. . .force of habit and somewhat second nature.

Arching her left brow, Ria finally spoke, "Yes? Can I help you?"

[Sean]

Knowing nothing of the woman’s rank Valadin offered a slight nod, his face carefully schooled to neutrality. In the cool of the evening, the loose tan tunic provided a refreshing circulation of air that served as welcome respite against the heat. His breeches were equally lose-fitted, the legs blooming out and wavering at the caresses at the wind, before feeding into a ragged pair of hunting boots. The Tower had supplied everything in his possession and where most might complain about the sand state of the hand-me-downs, Val was content in having anything at all. Don’t mean I wouldn’t mind for a pair o’ trousers that don’t chafe with every step, he groused to himself.

“Apologies,” he replied while straightening once more. Gesturing towards the rough-hewn practice sword held in his dominant hand. “Seen you were practicin’ by yerself. Noticed ya favor the sword too—figured we both could use some extra practice. If yer not above it an’ all.”

The woman had spoken with a voice used to command and from the hard-set of those ice blue eyes, Valadin was sure most followed whatever orders she issued. What’s more the appraising sweep of her eyes reminded Val of the female clients he’d been forced to ‘service’ in his days before Tower life. She wasn’t necessarily looking at him as much as assessing him for her own purposes. What those might be, he didn’t want to consider. Mostly it was her eyes that demanded attention. A flickering light shone from behind them, the source of it was equal parts worrisome and captivating.

With a sigh, Val realized he didn’t want to deal with the complications that came with proper introductions. That was the thing he loathed most about the Grey Tower. Every bloody thing was a ceremony. From greeting someone to simply passing them a warm mug of tea, depending who they were and what rank they held, there was some decorum to observe. The Warder Yards were supposed to sacred.

Eyes knitting into a slight ‘V’ Val decided against waiting on a proper answer to his request as he assumed the Void. As always its numbing embrace quelled all distractions from thought. Only the soft glow beyond the calm signaled Saidin’s ever-present existence in his thoughts. Apple Blossoms in the Wind came easily to shape as Valadin’s body, hardened from daily training and practice, readied for the exertion of combat.

Despite reminding himself of the importance of self-control…Val was looking forward to this. “If ya don’t mind lady, I’d rather we jus’ get to the scrappin’. I ent much fer small talk anyways.”

[Roan]

With the predator-like grace of a Gaidar, Riahana executed Folding the Fan and flashed a bit of a smirk towards the young man. "We can certainly get to it, though I suspect you would rather I use a practice sword as opposed to my hard steel." Not far away was a rack of practice swords that were brought out each morning, and put away each evening. Riahana unclipped her sword belt, and leaned it against the rack as she traded the real blade for one made of wood. While not lethal, the things were known to leave nasty bruises to those who left themselves open.

A light breeze swept over the Yard, and made the turning leaves dance in the morning light. Ria took in a deep breath, reveling in the cool air for a moment before she pulled the Oneness about her. She rotated the blade in her right hand to get a feel for its weight and balance, and seemed satisfied as she turned back to face her unexpected sparring partner. She wasn't often one for pomp and circumstance, and she gathered the man across from her was not either, given his manner. The sparring session should prove. . .interesting.

Once opposite her sparring partner, Riahana settled into The Ox Lowers His Horns and eyed up her opponent over the hilt of her sword, as the blade was angled downwards towards the young man. Her weight was on her back foot, and she held it for a moment before launching into The Falcon Stoops and then transitioning into the guard stance of The Lion on the Hill. The Gaidar used each movement to get a sense for her opponent's skill and how he reacted with each strike.

[Sean]

Val watched placidly without form as the woman melted into The Ox Lowers his Horns. Calm recognition skittered across the Void’s surface, but Valadin’s center remained quiet…

Until the attacks came.

Like a lightening flash the woman’s practice sword surged forward in a quick overhand thrust. The form was familiar, but the name eluded Val as the song of battle hummed to life within him. Without thought his body danced gracefully into The Kingfisher Circles the Pond. Recoil leapt the breadth of the wooden practice sword as the two strikes met fully, the collision resounding loudly throughout the sparsely populated Yard.

Brief as the meeting was a rhythm drummed in the undertones of the battle. It surprised Valadin that he would fall so easily into footsteps of the Song. With Silas, he’d needed to strain and foolishly take on dangerous gambles simply to find his form, but now it readily came to him like an old friend visiting in the summer.

A laugh escaped him as his momentum circled to the woman’s right side, his large outline dwarfing hers as she retreated and settled into an ostensibly offensive guard. Fodhr had taught Valadin a great deal about offense and defense in swordplay. Much was determined by distance and footing, both of which favored Val at the moment.

Though the opening salvo had been strong, the exchange did nothing to slow him down. Having grown used to having a size advantage he’d not needed to retreat or misplace any steps as he shadowed the woman’s path. Now at her flank, he felt as though the smaller frame which he’d been wary of earlier now proved to be a handicap. The Swallow Glides to the Branch became The Swallow Takes Flight, the initial slash lashing out with such speed and ferocity that the wood of the lathe blurred in its motion.

Whether the woman realized the riposte’s intent mattered little Val noted. High guard offered power and speed in either offense or defense against a single attack, but as his sword arm drew back with little wasted motion he remembered how his mentor had schooled him on the consequences of overcommitting; the pain bruise on his cheek had been a gruesome purple-black for weeks after. Thrusting soundlessly at his unfortunate sparring partner, Val felt equal measures excited as he did calm. Slowly he felt as his existence devoted itself wholly to the dance of battle.

OOC: Forgive me. As I had said before I recently traveled and the trip to and back took quite a bit out of me. From here on out posts will be answered within a day’s time. Hopefully you understand Ro (can I call you ‘Ro’? or Ro-ro?!)

[Roan]

Within the Flame and Void, there was no time for surprise, no time for emotion, and no time to second guess yourself. Riahana knew to cross swords with someone was a lethal dance, and one move flowed into another. Yes, each move had a name, and some transitioned into others more easily, but what mattered more than knowing the names of what you or your deadly partner might use was being able to respond in kind. . .without hesitation. The Warder reacted to Val's attack with Watered Silk. Each step she took was precise and put distance between the pair.

The wind began to pick up, a hint of a storm to come. Within the Oneness, the changing winds registered but Ria paid them no heed. Focused as she was, the woman moved, her practice blade moving in a half-circle towards her sparring partner. At the height of the arc, she twisted the blade and moved it in a quick, but powerful horizontal slash. The move was a feint known as The Wind Blows Over The Wall. As a feint, it was the start of Ria's attack, to close distance after Watered Silk, and momentum to launch into an aggressive strike: The Wolf Lunges.

Ria's opponent was bigger than her, but she learned early on to use her size to her advantage against bigger opponents. Being smaller, Ria was nimble and light on her feet. As with dance, footwork was critical to sword-play. The extra hours she'd put in on her footwork meant the Gaidar could move without thinking. . .her feet knew where to step, and she moved with cat-like grace. With the feint getting her in close, Ria started The Wolf Lunges by slamming the pommel of her blade into Val's mid-section, and, without hesitating followed the move up by a sharp swipe of the blade downwards.

Little emotion showed on Riahana's face as she executed each move and transitioned from one to another. It had been a long while, though, since she'd had the chance to spar with someone who pushed her. Sparring was not meant to be fun. . .it was a serious exercise to prepare you to face the Shadow and come out alive. Most who walked the Yards, though, would admit to not just enjoying a good, challenging sparring match, but looking forward to them. Riahana was no different. There might not be a smile on her face, but the Gaidar was smiling within, and ready to match whatever her sparring partner might throw her way next.

((OOC: Feel free to call me Ro, and no worries! I sometimes have days where I can reply quickly, and days where it might take time for me to get back to a thread. I try and be quick, but I also try and make sure my replies are worthy of my writing partner. ))

[Sean]

OOC: Cool! I will abuse that nickname by the way…I apologize in advance. The following post is written with previous post’s interpretation being that Ria used what looked like The Wind Blows Over the Wall, but abandoned that at the last second to use The Wolf Lunges. Post was edited.

His attack thwarted, Valadin stumbled forward with a heavy foot landing to save him from falling and was nearly struck by the woman’s return thrust. Bursts of panic hammered against the Void’s serenity, but all was embraced as The Ribbon Dances on the Breeze transferred the wanton momentum into Apple Blossoms in the Wind allowing him room to sway back from the countering attack. Excitement seeped through his innards like a fine ale. Slowly the restraints were loosening from his movement.

Fodhr had warned him that even while embracing in the Void, one’s body needed to mirror their thoughts. Tension was a thing born of the flesh as well, not only the mind. Anxiety caused by any number of things including the lack of confidence would slow and dull reflexes of even the sharpest warriors. Until now Val had felt himself encumbered by the day’s uncertainties. Much had weighed on his mind earlier. Like bitemes the thoughts had nibbled at his strength and hindered his ability to fight, but seeing this woman’s skill, the way her form was so straightforward—without distraction; slowly it was improving his own focus.

Even as the wind began to whistle with the gathering strength of an oncoming storm, the Void gradually encompassed the entirety of his surrounding, folding it all into the music of the Song. Again the opposing woman’s sword came at him in an unfamiliar way, its tip doing a half-circle as she approached in slow, methodical steps. Val noted that her balance was never compromised despite her advance.

In the Yards, many were willing to provide helpful advice. Training and sparring sessions commenced as frequently as conversations about history. A wizened old Ji’alantin had offered counsel that now brought a vivid imagery to his mind. As the slash whipped across his torso, the rough edge of the practice weapon snagging and tearing away cloth, Val could see how a true sword of iron or steel would have laid open his stomach to show his guts to the sun. The vision added to Valadin’s insight. When the follow-through came, he knew it to the first strike to be a feint even as the wooden blade’s tip retreated from sight and the pommel rammed into his torso.

A smirk pulled at the edges of his lips as he weathered the blow with ease, his muscled physique lending itself favorably to bearing the weight of such attacks. Swallowing the pain into the Song his body sang, Val began to get a sense of the woman’s nature. This close he felt as though could hear the twang of her Battle Song quite well. Flicking his blade up just in time to catch the rising slash, Val caught the brunt of the assault on his practice sword’s edge before turning it aside and returning to Low Guard. Exhaling slowly he remained rooted to the spot, a challenge to his opponent. His senses were opening to the woman’s Song and in those notes he knew the sword wasn’t her first weapon. Her body, actions, and the way she used the terrain…everything lacked the neatness of expertise; much like him.

Val knew his victory lay in power and vigor against superior combat experience. Without pause he waded forward, putting great force behind Arc of the Moon. Guarding haphazardly would threaten severe injury for even one of the Gaidin, but the Song bade that he dance in full steps now, no more holding back. The Ribbon Dances on the Breeze snatched the wasted movement from his attack before flowing into The Lion on the Hill. Even this was a transient state as he continued pressing forward to keep her from withdrawing as she had before. Sword swooping down from High Guard into Lightning of Three Prongs, the first thrust aimed for the nameless woman’s eyes to draw her attention upward. Then he slowed his advance momentarily at sword distance to deliver two powerful strokes that cut at both the right and left sides of her defenses. Muscles humming in bittersweet agony, Low Wing Rising streaked up without hesitation from the ashes of the preceding attack.

The sounds of their battle filled the Yard, but Valadin’s world only existed between the clash of their blades.

[Roan]

The intensity of the sparring match did not go amiss to those in the Yard. Two very different opponents. . .one with the build, grace, and focus of a Warder, and the other a much bigger man who would overpower his opponent if it was just about strength and size. Some gathered to watch, but most casual observers began to disperse as the first drops of rain began to fall. The storm was more wind than rain at this point, but those who could be indoors, or elsewhere preferred shelter over watching the dance before them.

Being wrapped in the Void did not mean one was not aware of what took place around them. On the contrary, the Oneness meant you were aware, perhaps hyper-aware of events unfolding around you, but it allowed you to focus on what was directly in front of you without giving into fear if you were intimately familiar with the Flame and Void. As a result, Riahana was aware of those who lingered, and aware of the first drops of rain, but her focus was centered on the dance between her and the curious challenger in front of her.

The Gaidar was small compared to most men in the Yards, and had the lesson driven home early on in her time in the Yards to use their size against them. It was not always possible, especially when working with swords, but it was a key tactic for her in any skirmish with someone larger, and more powerful than her. Yes, the man who moved before her was bigger, and would be stronger, but Riahana had experience on her side. . .experience with keeping the Void firmly wrapped around her, experience at using her small size and quick footwork to match or counter what her opponents threw at her, and experience at avoiding what would be a killing blow if this were a real battle, and not a sparring match.

The Kingfisher Circles the Pond came instinctively as Riahana parried the Arc of the Moon, moving her blade up and turning it so the flat of the blade met the overhand blow. The man's advance showed he wanted to keep her close, and Riahana felt obliged to comply as she answered Lightning of Three Prongs with a simple parry, and Low Wind Rising with Black Pebbles on Snow to parry to get within the man's guard, followed by a downward strike towards his ribs.

Neither dancer were showing their partner any quarter. Perhaps it was pride, though it was not something Riahana was prone to give into, as she learned humility early on in her days at the Tower. It was not to say, though, that she did not know or understand her strengths as a Gaidar. To earn the fancloak, you had to be good. . . not just good, but the very best. You had to show no quarter to your opponents because out there, beyond the Tower walls, those who walked in the Shadow would show none to you.

Strike, parry, strike. Advance, defend, advance. . .it was a dance, and one that was key to master. The extra time Riahana had been putting into her swordsmanship meant more forms came easily to her, with one movement transitioning into another as easily as the wind blew through the leaves.

Bigger rain drops began to form, kicking up dust when they fell, though the drops were still sparse. It was a precursor to the bigger storm to come, and it registered somewhere in the depths of the Gaidar's mind.

Focus, though, was on the dance before her, and she did not hesitate sliding into The Lightning Strikes the Oak. It was far from an easy form, but it was one the Gaidar had been working on, as it allowed her to use her size and nimbleness to her advantage. As the blades engaged, and Riahana was within close quarters to her partner, she side-stepped, and then extended the leg before using her momentum and leverage in an attempt to trip her opponent. If the move worked, he would fall back, and she'd follow up with a swift blow downwards.

[Sean]

As their swords met, the drumbeat of Song spoke of onlookers watching the pair pressed desperately in the throes of their struggle. Sprinkles dotted the ground and offered solace from the fire burning his blood like coal in a hearth.

No sooner had Valadin become aware of the other’s presence were they put from the center of the Void, their attendance and departure noted, yet coldly dismissed. The wind snatched at the open rags where his tunic hung loose; the result of a glancing blow tearing away the cloth. A feral pleasure filled him as he watched woman meet his challenge earnestly. Her stubbornness was commendable. Skill and experience were the tools of her trade; she wielded them cunningly. His earlier appraisal of her swordplay needed revision he realized when she parried Low Wind Rising and smoothly countered with a downward stroke to the rib that made him grunt. Another bruise, he thought with eerie calm.

The Void wavered a moment, the uncertainty and rage that threatened to overcome him in the midst of battle nearly drowning them in their chaos. No sooner had the breach been made, his concentration returned sharp as he charted her movements mentally. A fat raindrop splashed on the bridge of his nose while a tentative jab in the woman’s direction was parried gracefully and their blades locked for the first time in the match. Victory pulled at the Void’s neutrality, urging for haste and to push forward; all it would take to overpower her was a quick nudge. Swordsmanship wasn’t all fancy forms and footwork. Some bouts were decided by brute force alone.

Only the deception layered in the dull beating of the Song’s drum gave Val indication of a ploy at work. Late to react, his eyes could only follow as momentum aided the woman’s step-around. Simultaneously the sudden movement’s force pushed him back a step, the power pressing his sword against him. His balance failed him and he staggered backward, fighting to keep his footing when something behind swept his feet from under him.

Before he knew it Val was hit the moistened Yard sands hard, a punctuating blow landing on his sternum that he weathered with gritted teeth. The pain receded quickly, but his wounded pride flared like a cyst in gut and he pushed away the woman’s weapon as he scrambled back to his feet. Outwardly he flashed a savage grin, but his innards roiled at the thought of defeat.

“Well played!” he called over the growing roar of the wind. “Ent got a choice, but to concede the first point to you!”

Now the storm boomed with greater strength. The Yard was utterly deserted despite the two of them, most seeing the good sense in leaving.

Valadin made it clear he had no intention of leaving things as they were. A gust blew against his back nearly pitching him forward, but he widened his stance while raising his blade to High Guard, blade pointed to the sky and the hilt at his shoulder. Slowly the Void cooled the burning in his heart, but the blood called for more battle, for more fight; victory didn’t matter so long as he could soar and dance to the beat of the Song of battle. It called to him…spoke to him.

The fight was not over it whispered.

Having no more words for this mysteriously skilled woman, Val threw himself forward, the bellow escaping into the air challenging the storm and the enemy both. When they were within two paces of one another Valadin struck forward with The Hummingbird Kisses the Honeyrose. The thrust carried the weight of years’ worth of training, of crafting muscles used to menial labor into a fighting force that would prove more than enough against the horde of the Shadow. It was a move that dared the enemy to face it fully at his own peril.

Though the Flame and Void devoured distracting thoughts with its emotionless veil, a mad sort of delight mixed with the drumming of the Song, willing Val forward. He and his sword were as one as they slowed before striking with Parting the Silk.

Overhead, thunderclouds moved into position, their angry gray masses blotting out the early daylight. A flash warned of an incoming boom, but to Valadin all of it was the crashing of waves on a distant shore.

OOC: First point to Ria. Don't think it'll be so easy to subdue Val though. Reason isn't necessarily his strong suit in this case.

[Roan]

Satisfaction. Riahana felt the briefest moments of satisfaction as her opponent regained his feet and conceded a point to her. She gave the man a small nod accompanied by a small smile. She kept herself enveloped within the comforting embrace of the Void, though said nothing in return. She could see in the man's eyes that he was not ready to give up, and truth be told, neither was she.

The somewhat sparse, big drops of rain gave way to a torrent, though neither she nor her opponent seemed to notice, or care if they did. Riahana dropped into a relaxed mid-guard until she registered the man's charge, and moved into The Leaf Floating on The Breeze, using the flat of her blade to parry his thrust towards her face, and brought the blade back again to parry the thrust towards her mid-section. With each thrust of her opponent, Ria let her feet take her back, though she had no intentions of giving too much ground. He had reach on her, thus getting within his guard would be to her advantage. . .and her only option if she hoped to gain another strike on the lad.

Timing was always everything in battle, as was knowing your strengths. Ria was not a perfect swordswoman, but she'd worked hard to strengthen wrists and fore-arms more used to firing a bow, and hoped to take advantage of that work as she moved into Rain in High Wind, unleashing a series of quick and hard strikes. The goal was to be relentless and wear the man down, though Ria knew his stamina was at least as good as hers, perhaps better given his youth, yet she would not let it show.

Flowing from one move to another, Ria went into The Wood Grouse Dances, which also called for strong wrists. Some might say it was late in the fight to use such a form, for she should have a feel for her opponent. At the same time, both had been going for some time, and she'd gotten a point on him. . .there was a subtle suggestion that she'd wounded his pride. It was a good time to size up once again, but she did not stop there, as she moved through one form to another: The Red Hawk Takes a Dove.