They never give up

[Avina Bislekarr]

A sigh escaped the female. Her eyes surveyed the land that stretched out in front of her, looking for any sign of hostility. Adricious pawed the ground, his head bobbing up in down, black mane flying everywhere. Avina held onto his reins, sighing to herself. "You don't see anything, do you, Adricious?" It was a habit of hers. She often talked to the animals when no one else was around. Her horse snorted, his head tossing again. Shaking her head, she sighed. Avina had decided to take a break, get the chance to be out here with just a few recruits. She turned her head to them, watching them as they shuffled about. A man approached her. The female knight looked down at the man, her eyebrows raising. "Lady Avina, I don't think the Saxons are here. We haven't seen them in days. Maybe they decided to leave our King alone?" His voice grew more hopeful as he spoke, and Avina knew he was trying to convince himself of his words, hoping they were true, but knew they could not. The female shook her head. "That's what worries me. They are known for their raids, but yet we haven't been able to find any. But they would never quit. Saxons just don't give up. They fight till the end, and trust me, their end hasn't come yet." As if on cue, her horse started winnying, the first indication something was wrong. Avina watched as her stallion's ears flicked to the side. The female looked in that direction, seeing figures moving. "Prepare for battle. Saxons are headed our way. Archers!" It was time to see what she had taught the trainees, and how good they were in battle. She reached behind her, grabbing an arrow out of her quiver. She aimed it, allowing the arrow to fly. Avina was a good shot, and she saw a Saxon fall, an arrow plunged deep in its chest. In answer to the solo arrow, many more flew towards the Saxons.

The female watched as the raiders fell, succumbed to arrows. Avina smiled. These trainees had indeed been taught well. A few more arrows flew, and Avina traded her bow for sword. Swinging it in her hand, she looked at the Saxons, waiting for them to close in on them. With a final glance at the trainees, she lunged at the first Saxon to cross her path, cutting him down easily. It was easy to fight on horseback, which is why many knights preferred the combat. At least to start off with. Her heels kicked the sides of her horse, forcing the stallion to start at a gallop, launching his form through many of the Saxons, runing the ones over who weren't fast enough to get out of her way. She slowed the stallion, jumping from his back. As she hit the ground, she slid her blade in front of her, slicing a Saxon down as he tried to kill the female. Looking up, she all but snarled. Saxons were fierce and powerful foes, but they were all brawn, and no brains.

The female hacked at another, but this one was smarter than the others. He dodged to the side, pulling his blade up in a parry, slicing the female's arm. A painful gasp left her at the surprise. Pain fueled her fury, and she hacked at the guy, only to miss him again. The female narrowed her eyes, glaring at the Saxon. He hacked at her, but the female blocked it. Drawing her dagger, she sliced at the man, sword forgotten for the moment. It was no use to her right now, she couldn't land a blow. She was quick with the dagger, and the man didn't expect the change in weapon so suddenly. She managed a blow on his arm, his cheek, and finally, plunged the weapon into his side, knocking him to his feet. Grabbing her sword, she ended his life, turning around to survey the battlefield. Few lay wounded or dead. Closing her eyes, she knelt down onto her knees, not realizing the damage she had taken from the battle. She had that cut on her arm, and also another on her cheek. Plus one more rested on her leg.

A soldier approached her, Adricious' reins in hand. "Your horse, m'lady." Reins passed hands, and Avina nodded at the man, mounting. "Thank you. Get the wounded back to the city. The other knights need to be informed of this.." She paused, watching the man as he nodded, running off to do as told. She would stay and make sure no Saxon returned.

Tag: Open
Words: 802
Song: None
Clothes: Coming Soon
Horse: click
Notes: Woo, first IC post!

[Tristan]

A lone rider approached from the direction in which the Saxons had come. The bloodbay courser he rode upon moved at a slow trot across the battlefield; the horse mindful to avoid the corpses from the recent carnage. It was easy to see from afar that the man was equipped for warfare. A sword could be plainly seen sheathed at his side and a reflex-composite bow strung around his torso; a strange weapon for anyone outside of Sarmatia to wield. The last unique item in which the man wore would have been the strange steppe-style felt hat. If any solider in the area was familiar with Arthur’s knights from Badon Hill than they would have immediately recognized that hat and the only knight which donned it, Tristan.

It was pure happenstance that he had arrived at the time he had, near the tail end of the small battle outside of the wall. He had spent the past week in the wilds of the land ranging and tracking a small group of Saxons. It seemed that the group he had trailed merged with the war-party that had just engaged Avina’s detachment. When they did so, Tristan remained hidden for a few moments, allowing them to engage the female knight’s force before he rode to their rear, choosing only to pick off those Saxons who would sully their honor and flee the field of battle. From the looks of his quiver which was strapped loosely to his back, at least a dozen and possibly more attempted to run though they were not so lucky.

Weathered hands pulled gently on the reins to his courser and the horse halted. In one fluid motion, the Sarmatian dismounted. Kneeling to the ground he began to rummage through the remains of one of the larger of the Saxon foes who had fallen. In actuality, Tristan had pegged him as the leader of the small party he had been tracking and he searched the corpse for anything linking him to the destruction of a village a few days ago. He stopped, leaning back on his haunches before spitting to the side with distaste. Tristan proceeded to remove an arrow from the eye socket of the man. If a projectile was ever lodged firmly in a Saxon’s eye it was one of two things; a lucky shot or Tristan’s arrow. Usually it was the latter. He murmured something inaudible before displaying the same grace in mounting his steed once more.

The courser continued forwards and before long it ambled into Avina’s party. Most of her soldiers seemed rather green and therefore looked peculiarly at him. Perhaps they knew him, perhaps they did not, but it was quite clear that Tristan was no Saxon. He made eye contact with each soldier he passed, waiting for one of them to speak up. Tristan’s solitary nature did not allow him much knowledge of many of the men and women who served Arthur and he was completely unfamiliar with Avina.

Perhaps his horse knew more than he did these days because it halted as it neared her. Glancing to his left and then to his right, he acknowledged that she was the one who was in charge here. Not only did she possess the presence of command but it seemed she was issuing orders as well. He spurred the horse forwards a tad before turning slightly. His words were quiet, though audible.

“I’ve been tracking them for a week.” His arm flitted to the Saxon dead which lay strewn over the field. “I would have liked to talk to one.” Tristan shrugged after uttering that. Talking to and interrogating Saxons, especially ones responsible for the butchery at that village, were the same thing to him. He was at least satisfied that his quarry had been slain however.

“There will be more of them later. How many I do not know; too focused on these.” His head nodded to the Saxon corpses again. Despite knowing that more Saxons may arrive sooner rather later, Tristan seemed quite calm and rather uninterested in them. His eyes instead glanced over at the wounded men from the prior battle. Could these inexperienced soldiers withstand another assault? Not likely, or so the knight thought.

He turned his horse around again, searching the horizon in the direction he came. He saw no standard heard no horn, perhaps they would not come so quickly. A good sign then, so far. Urging his mount back around again, Tristan addressed the woman once more.

“I do not know you. I am Tristan. Your name, commander?”

[Avina Bislekarr]

Avina surveyed the carnage that was lying around on the field. Many lay dead and wounded. The female moved her horse forward, walking the gray beast towards a wounded soldier. The female dismounted, looking down at the man. He looked up at her, his facial features twisted in pain. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, touching the weapon that had saved his life. The female knight knelt down beside the man, touching his forehead with the tips of her fingers. He looked at her, a smile twisting its way painfully onto his face. "We repelled... them." Avina smiled slightly, a forced, unhappy smile. "Yes, my warrior. We did. You fought well today." She watched the man as he took his final breath, his head leaning to the side. Her hand moving quickly, she brought his lids over his eyes, closing them for the last time. They would never open again. She lean there, standing beside her fallen warrior, her head bowed in respect for the man who had lost his life to save his city. It was the greatest sacrifice one could make, and she knew he was happy to make that sacrifice. The female stood, mounting Adricious once more. Her stallion walked through the carnage, stepping over abandoned weapons, incapacitated corpses, and other such things scattered along the battlefield. It wasn't a place for a woman, most would say. Avina didn't care.

She didn't notice as a man approached the female, kneeling as he came close to the horse the female knight sat upon. "My lady." Avina turned her head, looking at the man. "Yes?" The man stood up straight, his hand pointing to the distance. "Someone rides this way." The female looked in that direction, watching as the rider approached. "Thank you." She nudged the sides of her gray beast, urging the stallion forward. Her hands holding the reins, she rode towards Tristan as Tristan rode towards her. As the two came close to one another, Avina tugged the reins with a skilled hand, watching as Tristan dismounted near a body, arrow sticking from its eye. She watched as his hands moved, rummaging through any pockets he sought out, looking for any indication he was connected to something. What the female didn't know, but it was certainly something. He then sat back somewhat, his head moving to the side, then back again in a rapid motion. Then the knight mounted in a graceful fluid movement, riding towards her once again. He tugged his reigns as he neared the female, slowing his gray beast.

Avina looked at him, her eyes searching his quickly. Her hand waved across the battlefield, a shrug in its reach. "Perhaps you can find one wounded. Otherwise I can't help you. They attacked, I countered them. You would have done the same." Her voice was neutral, emotionless as she spoke. It was clear she wasn't trying to defend her actions, and spoke the truth. She had done what she had to save her city, her king. She didn't regret what she had done, and felt no pity for the ruthless killers who had tried to separate her from the life she clung onto so easily. They had taken everything from her. She had watched her father die before her eyes do to the Saxons' ruthlessness. No, there was no room for pity here. Her gaze turned back to Tristan as he spoke once more. The female nodded. "Yes. It's not a matter of if, but when they plan to strike us once again." Her eyes looked past Tristan, past the carnage even, to the trees. No sign of a return from the brutal men that occupied the west. Her gaze returned to Tristan.

"I am Avina. Avina Bislekarr of Britian. I watched my father die before my eyes, killed by the very creatures that litter the ground now. Since then, I have vowed to become a warrior. I've worked my way up to a knight of Arthur. It's an honor to be among such high warriors." The female bowed her head slightly, an indication of respect, and recognition of Tristan's title and status.

[Tristan]

He listened to her words, though how intently one could not easily discern from the blank stare that covered his face. Though she may have been merely stating a simple fact of what she had done, it still seemed slightly odd to Tristan. This female in front of him, her soul possessed a tint of darkness much like the one Tristan currently bore himself. It was easy to tell, especially when you yourself possess demons as well.

“It is of no importance now. The work is done.” He responded to her. Tristan’s only real goal was to repay the Saxon’s butchery with his own, though most of the labor had been done by the blood and sweat of Avina’s command.

He had spoken his piece concerning the return of the Saxons, and though she responded he noted an increased interest concerning the Saxons. Her far off gaze, most likely in the same direction in which Tristan had just approached from confirmed this. She had a taste for the killing of Saxons, for why he did not know. He was, however, shortly informed.

He had expected her name and her station, no more than that. Tristan received such from Avina Bislekarr and much more than he had wagered. That established he was not terribly surprised when she spilled a small yet powerful piece of her past to him. Female warriors were not unheard of, especially amongst the Woads but she was of Briton blood. Something had to have driven her to become a warrior as such, and her short explanation made him understand why.

Yet her road to knighthood was not what interested him the most. Instead it was her comment regarding the Saxons as creatures. Cruel and savage they seemed to be, but Tristan still considered them men. Little did he truly know of why the Saxons incurred upon this island but he could imagine there were reasons they had to come here. Perhaps if he was put in the same situation he would act just as barbaric, yet emotion played little role in Tristan’s current thought process. The Saxons were obviously a driving force in this young woman’s life however and perhaps would someday be her end. Her words were slightly laced with emotion, especially concerning the death of her father. Unchecked emotion could lead to dangerous paths, something which Tristan knew all too well.


Her mention of honor and title did little to stir him, though he nodded back at her quickly if only out of politeness. Tristan’s perceptions did not allow him to truly understand the desire for title and respect. In this respect he was much different than many of his brothers in arms. As such, he hesitated in his reply and sat upon his steed saying nothing until a few moments had passed.

“Their aggression has increased as of late. The small group I tracked had butchered a village three days walk from here. Strange, with winter coming.” Perhaps the Saxons truly lacked foresight in their strategic planning. Most armies began their campaigns in early spring to take advantage of good weather with most movements grinding to a halt at the end of fall. This was coming quite soon to Britannia and it seemed odd to Tristan that the Saxons would mobilize a large force to assault prior to the garrisoning of winter quarters. An army marched on their stomach, and the lack of steady food supplies for an army in the field was quite visible in the winter season.

He seemed lost in his thoughts for a moment, considering the strategic implications of such an assault. Tristan would discuss it later with Arthur, as he did with most matters he felt pressing. All of the recent action touched him the wrong way, both in heart and in head. Something was brewing, though what fell winds passed into Hadrian he knew not.