[center][img]http://peterbaxterafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/Page-Divider.png[/img] [b][u]POV:[/u] Viera Versul [sub]Dhadan Forest, County of Dunric[/sub][/b] [img]http://peterbaxterafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/Page-Divider.png[/img][/center] Viera slammed down her sword into the mud, a large pulse of aura surging from it as it connected— her feet digging down as her enemy jumped backwards to avoid being knocked down. Viera held out her hands in her central martial arts stance, the first “sword” of Karai and the one best fitting for her situation due to the fact she needed to react to what her enemy threw at her rather than strike; a philosophy she was very familiar in at this point in her life. The white-haired girl was skilled in the aura arts, she could tell before they even met fist to fist. The way this new orderling moved was fast and potent; even if Viera had been blinded she would’ve been able to feel her sheer presence and by the potency of her aura she could tell she had a lot of it, but that came naturally to her given the talents of her clan and the culture she was raised in— the aura arts were her life and the entire thing that kept Derim unified rather than ending up like these outland nations that descended into fits of greed, warring philosophy, forced ideaologies, and gluttonous overgrowth. To find an opponent this skilled in spiritual energy was amazing and had she not been her enemy there could’ve been so much they could be teaching one another. But such thoughts would have to be discared in the face of this fight and she knew her idle fascination couldn’t be allowed to distract her as she could tell that fighting her would be tough and considering she was still alone on the field of battle that she would have to fight [i]smart[/i]. That’s when her enemy pushed at her quickly, her martial arts stance reminded her of— [center][img]http://66.media.tumblr.com/51fc61ac770a524e9468f174afa94d7f/tumblr_inline_n1xc79Kcic1rb3m8r.png[/img][/center] [color=silver] [b]”Viera!”[/b] Viera gritted her teeth as she was flung back into the hull of an overturned metal tub from the blow from the female orderling in front of her. She didn’t know her name but all she knew was she was part of the trio of enemies she found herself against— a trio comprised of Rin Chiyuhato, Marlowe's former friend and two other women. Marlowe’s scream in the distance was cut off by more guttural sounds as his former friend tossed him through the tavern that they were in. “You should know better Marlowe.” Rin nonchalantly commented with a yawn, Viera’s eyes on the orange-haired woman in front of her. “You couldn’t beat me when I wasn’t with The Order, so… c’mon. Don’t be a moron.” Suddenly there was a voice coming from the bar— a man with a longcoat and long disheveled black hair. “Can you not?” The three orderlings took a confused glance towards the man. Viera cursed herself, she wasn’t going to be able to help him when they pounced on him and she also knew Marlowe had just gotten tossed around to the point he wouldn’t be fast enough either. Whoever the man had been, he had just commented on the wrong thing at the wrong time; he had pretty much dug himself into an early grave. So many innocent people had died from The Order and for someone to get involved at this moment was pretty much the worst idea someone could do. Who was he? Was he drunk? “Excuse me, what?” The orange-haired girl inquired with a raised brow. “You’re kind of ruining my drink.” He took a step up from the stool before turning towards them. “So can you guys take it outside?, you guys are being kind of rude.” Viera attempted to push herself to her feet— yeah, whoever this guy was he had just reached the bottom of the last bottle he was ever going to drink. She had to [b]try[/b] to do something. She knew the patience The Order had for people, especially when they had attitudes to go along with their stupidity. Marlowe had gotten his teeth kicked in more times than she could count and she hadn’t even known him all that long. Alfiros rolled her eyes. “Just kill the stupid drunk.” “Heh.”[/color] [center][img]http://66.media.tumblr.com/51fc61ac770a524e9468f174afa94d7f/tumblr_inline_n1xc79Kcic1rb3m8r.png[/img][/center] —she smirked as she prepared herself. She could build a strategy around a martial art she was [i]famillar[/i] with, especially when she saw it in action nearly every day for the better half of four months. A thought came to her as she clashed with the female orderling— Marlowe [i]should[/i] have caught up with them by now, so where was he? [center][img]http://peterbaxterafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/Page-Divider.png[/img] [b][u]POV:[/u] Jacques Deli // Delios [sub]Dhadan Forest, County of Dunric[/sub][/b] [img]http://peterbaxterafrica.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/Page-Divider.png[/img][/center] “Hey Marlowe! Just come out please, it’s not going to be all that bad! I’m just going to [i][b]gouge[/b][/i] out your [b][i]eyes[/i][/b]!” As evident by the howl of Jacques’ voice, Marlowe had unfortunately came to the realization that his little “friend” had caught up with him and was ready to give him comeuppance— so he was a little busy. After all of his years honing his craft and knowing his surroundings to avoid critical injuries to be blind-sighted by a barely competent punk with a saber was [i]infuriating[/i]. Perhaps it was his naturally ornery nature, but he could feel a fuel of adrenaline, hate, pain, and pure unadulterated [i]hatred[/i] fill his body. In his gut he knew he couldn’t hurt Marlowe for long given his particular “condition” but boy did he feel like he was going to [i]try[/i] if he got his hands on him. The image of him slamming his foot on his throat as he bashed his rifle through his teeth before firing until he emptied his ammunition flashed in his mind; a fantasy so euphoric that he licked his lips as blood continued to drip down the wound that only a few moments ago was his left eye. He could hear the grumble of his “commanding officer” as the older, larger man slammed his hammer at the base of a tree— sending it flying down. Normally he would be chasing down his target and letting old man Grif do the bulk of the work with Marlowe, but for the first time in his career in this cult of theirs he was [i]distracted[/i] so much to the point that he didn’t care about his original fixation and target. He didn’t care about it at all. Because he had a new one.