The Lady Doth Protest Too Much, Methinks

[Aver Brand]

The few victims who had survived her violence throughout the years no doubt prayed for her fitful sleep and nightmares to whatever god they believed in. They were met with naught but stony silence, for Aver ever slept soundly.

This night under the stars of Onderon proved no different. She came to in the tranquil darkness before the dawn, smoothing the cold from her skin. Unmoving, breath deep and steady, Aver listened to the faint footsteps outside. Moments later, the flap rustled – a familiar silhouette slunk through the tent and settled down by the quenched remains of the fire.

Icy eyes moved with her motions for a few long minutes, observing the methodical routine for what it was. Night, Aver thought, belonged to no-one. It commanded respect like daylight never could, inscrutable even by the keenest gaze.

“Need a hand?” she spoke, gravel-voiced from slumber.

 

[Quietus]

Her gaze, having closed in rhythmic routine, flickered open to the resting Merc. Pale glowing emerald lagoons within the darkness. The pull of her lip, twitching at the corner, was likely lost. There was no knowledge beholden to her on the limits of Aver's physical abilities, and certainly she was completely ignorant to whatever changes had occurred over the years between then and now.

The fingers that worked so skillfully continued their pursuits of unraveling strands of wheat and gently pulling free the ornaments tied within. They were added to a wooden box that rest on the tray where the food resided, and as she finished off yet another long strand she slowly leaned forward to deposit the trinket and then to slide the tray around to the other side. The Beastia crawled her way across to set back in the same spot where she slept, well within the woman's reach - Aver would hardly even need to sit up.

Reticent in the morning hours, she picked a fruit from the tray to offer to her companion before setting back to work on the next braid.

 

[Aver Brand]

She accepted the fruit with her teeth, crossing her legs as she pulled upright. The position was simply more convenient if she didn’t want the sticky juices to drip all over her face.

With a low hum, Aver accepted the quietude before first light and set her dexterous fingers to work. For a long while, the only sounds were the soft clicks of beads against wood; the melodious tweets of early birds; the gentle song in the back of her throat.

They held long conversation, calm and unhurried. In the language of gestures, of minute movements and subtle shifts of body, there was an absolute honesty of being.

Aver drank of this strange peace, and found she didn’t mind it for once.

 

[Quietus]

With two working together it did not take long for the last braid to fall free, begging a sweep of fingers over her scalp, wringing loose the relief of freedom. A long stretch followed, arms reaching upwards and back arching to the chorus of a dozen joints popping. There were hands immediately snaking their way from behind, pressing under the loose tunic with zero regard for ... well, much of anything. She grinned - should have known. It was exactly what could be expected of Aver Brand and, truthfully, exactly what she would have done were she in the Merc's position.

Then she felt a warm breath through her hair and the insistent nuzzle into her neck, working into the knoll at the base of her skull. Aver was nothing if not an abuser of knowledge, always going for the spoiled cat reaction. Well it worked; Quietus twisted into the sensation, hands dropping back from her stretch to grasp for the red hair lost within the wheaten crimps of pulled braids. If there was one way to get on the Beastia's good side, it was attention best given in the morning.

 

[Aver Brand]

The handsy merc grinned into the warm neck under her lips, nipping the tanned skin. Deft fingers sought out sweet spots of a different nature, tracing the raised lines of tribal tattoos up to where she knew metal rings would cool her palms.

Pointed teeth brushed against corded muscle, bared by her smirk. Everything was slow – lazy before the first light of morning, with nowhere to be and nothing to do.

Well, except each other, apparently.

No qualms there on either side. Aver hummed her pleasure into the unruly blonde mane, sneaking her hands lower. Odd, really, how different this was to their first bout. Nothing more to prove, and perhaps some wisdom gathered on the way, from the ashes of planets fallen and consumed. She rarely lingered in her past, but these memories were not unwelcome.

This time, there was no rush. No pressing duty to a higher cause. Just...

time.

 

[Quietus]

Several years later...


Scarside Ridge stood in completion, a feat of mechanical and structural engineering and ingenuity. Though it had been the last place [member="Aver Brand"] had found the Queen of the wilds she would not find her here for her next visit. The campgrounds had been replaced with holding facilities, military barracks, correctional wards, landing pads. The hot springs had been left as they were, far enough removed to be of no consequence to the Prison Camp. She was directed back to Irontown, the last known sighting of the woman and her ilk.

But she wasn't there either. War had broken out between the far Carden Crags Clan and the Riversaw Tribes nearly a week ago. The Beastia's war party had yet to return, but no news was good news so far as they were concerned. It was business as usual in Irontown - or perhaps not quite so usual. The place was crawling with traders and emissaries from far-away clans and the Prison City never looked quite so welcoming.

Irontown had evolved beyond it's original purpose, it seemed, and expanded in size. While still maintaining itself as a military base, the commerce had taken a greater range of precedence in the recent years of peace since the dissolution of the One Sith. Under the law of the new regime, Onderon knew great prosperity and security. They were healthy, they were vibrant, and they were all eager for the great Harvest Festival hosted by the Fire Lakes Tribe.

In her initial sweep of the town she did not travel alone but in the company of Puppy who was more than happy to stretch her legs on natural earth. The beast didn't see a lot of time away from Nadir anymore and Aver knew when she was getting restless - gang members started to go missing, Gang leaders started to complain. Puppy couldn't help it, she was a wild animal that had needs.

The Tukata hound paused at a crossway of paths that lead from the market district to the command barracks, nose to the air. A faint chuff followed, one that Aver would recognize as a sound made when the scent of a familiar was detected. Then, with a lick of her chops and a flick of her tail, the creature ambled her way over to the military district where a certain little wildling girl was deeply invested in sparring lessons.

 

[Aver Brand]

Arrogance and a penchant for efficiency made Aver Brand a creature who rarely suffered inconvenience. What she wanted, she took, and that was the long and short of it. Being made to wait raised her hackles like nothing else. Worse still when you dangled a dripping cut of meat just at the edge of her reach, then told her it wasn’t for eating.

She stared daggers at the horizon – the one beyond which, presumably, [member="Quietus"] was currently carving her way through some uppity tribe. Made her fingers itch, her mouth water. Strife was her home, her tempo. It was the melody to which Aver had been dancing all her life, and they’d just shackled her ankles.

Puppy at her side stirred, and the merc pulled herself away from the irate train of thought. “Someone we know, you say?” Aver hummed, scratching the beast behind its left ear. “Aight, lead the way.”

Ironport wasn’t an unknown like all those years ago. Plenty of visits over the span of many years, always for pleasure – sometimes for a smattering of business. Trade grew richer each time, and regulation was nonexistent. It was the kind of port any criminal would give their left arm for.

Or, you know, seduce the local authority. Whichever worked.

Puppy wailed. Aver frowned.

A wall.

“Other side, huh?” Puppy pawed at the obstacle and left deep gouges in the ferrocrete. “Viable approach – if you wanna be here all night. How ‘bout…” she trailed off, taking a moment to assess the height, “we climb it instead?”

Well, jump, really.

Without ceremony, the deviant pair backed up a for a good running start. A beat, a pair of teeth-filled grins, and the two beasts were off in a cloud of dust. Twin shapes bounded over the towering wall, denting the dirt on the other side before rolling to a stop.

“WHAT THE FETHIN’ HELL—”

 

[Quietus]

PEW-PING!

A stray blaster bolt glance off Puppy's shoulder with narry a scorch mark for its effort. The beast blinked, bristled, and shook it off as though someone had cast a stone. Or a pebble, more accurately.

"HOLD FIRE!"

The local militia of Irontown was numerous and on excess patrol during the festival. Normal response for the uptick in traffic, especially considering much of the traffic was local and traveling by beast. They were exceptionally familiar with beasts but this particular creature wasn't a local. The soldiers eyed the hound and its owner through the visors of their helmets with a mixture of amusement and surprise.

"That's one ugly damn maalraas," remarked one.

Puppy flicked her tail, ears splaying in bemusement.

"This area is off-limits to civilians," the commanding officer stepped forward. Though the entire group wore cutting-edge armor, every single one of them had clearly seen battle and use. There wasn't a single one of them that didn't bear some form of abuse visibly. "If you're here for the festival I'll gladly point you in the right direction."

Puppy shared a glance with Aver and tested the air again with her nose. The same chuff sounded. Nope, person was definitely in this area.

 

[Aver Brand]

Aver gave a soothing pat to Puppy’s withers at the insult. Mostly for the militia’s sake, really. An angry tuk’ata could tear through soldiers like paper, and the merc really didn’t feel like explaining that to Qui.

“The only civilians I see here are you lot,” she drawled, unfazed by the host of rifles trained on her. Cocking her head to the side as Puppy growled again, Aver gave a slow nod. Then sighed. Then flexed her presence in the Force, slowly spilling across the field like a cloud of blood in the water.

She found her at the edges of awareness – a familiar blaze, bright and unbridled. Just like her mother.

“I’m here for Dahldesa, actually,” the merc spoke without missing a beat. “Aver Brand. If you got a list somewhere, I’m on it.”

A wild stab in the dark, of course, but she’d always been a good gambler. If she couldn’t bluff her way around some armed locals, it was clearly time for retirement.

Without waiting for confirmation, Aver confidently strode towards the kiddo. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad day after all.

 

[Blackthorne]

PEW - BOOM!

The ground exploded several yards before Aver, a single live bolt having fired from a defense turret at the wall. Puppy bristled, snarled, recoiled. Even she knew not to feth with the heavy machinery.

"Hold the phone," said the commanding officer calmly as the dust cleared, "if you're on a list we'll have you cleared momentarily. If not, well, we'll just play it by ear, eh?"

It was a short wait and apparently there was a list.

"Aver Brand, you're clear. Next time save yourself some trouble and use the gate."

Puppy sneezed and gave a great shake of its head, hackles settling back into place as she pressed forward through the parting group of guards. She smacked one roughly across the helmet with her tail as she went, knocking him soundly to the ground.


The tuk'ata moved on auto-pilot, following the scent trail of the familiar with the ease of a practiced hunter. They found her in an open court yard training facility surrounded on all sides by various targets, weapons, supplies, people, etc. Perhaps not immediately recognizable for the fitted military training garb she wore instead of her usual wildling ensemble of bones and leather. Camo fatigues and a tucked-in jungle-green tank. Her wild hair had been pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head and were it not for the obvious tribal tattoos, scarification, deeply tanned and dirt-covered skin, and bare feet she might've been mistaken for a civilized person.

They were practicing counter movements and reaction; several soldiers in training stood around the girl - some of which wore kevlar reinforcement for their own protection. They went at her two at a time, some with fists and others with daggers. Dahl moved with incredible speed and dispatched them with equally alarming strength. No one managed to land a hit.

No one until Puppy showed up.

The tuk'ata picked up her pace, trotted across the courtyard and promptly bulldozed her way through the group. Several of the soldiers leapt back at her approach while those less aware were merely toppled by her bulk. Head down and forward, she snagged the young girl around the waist in her maw and sauntered out holding her up high like a prize retrieved stick.

Dahl's immediate reaction was a snarl that shortly broke into a high-pitched squeel. It wasn't a sound of alarm or fright, but of delight. She flailed in the tuk'ata's mouth, clutching at the beasts face with a grin so wide she nearly swallowed her own ears.

 

[Aver Brand]

Aver shoved through the group abreast with her beast, just as smug as her elbows left a wide wake. The pair of hunters tracked the girl each through their own means, but where the merc stopped at the edge of the yard, Puppy strode onward unconcerned.

Moments later, she returned with her prey hanging from her maw, giggling and scratching the tuk’ata intermittently. You’d have to be deaf or blind to mistake her for a civilized person – nobody but the beast folk went around hugging murder on four legs.

Content enough to smile behind her helmet where no-one could see it, Aver quirked a brow when Puppy deposited the squealing catch at her feet.

“Hiya, kiddo,” the firrerreo grunted, ducking to the Dahl’s eye level. “Mom been been showing you some moves, huh? ‘Cause that was some solid ass-kicking.”

She tipped her head to the side, replaying the fight in her head. While the recruits were woefully out of their depth, Aver felt right at home with that pace. “Your footwork needs improvement though. You’re relying too much on your speed and strength,” she said, clicking her tongue. “Come on. I’ll show you what happens when you fight someone who can match you in those.”

She rose to her full height, offering the girl a hand up.


[member="Blackthorne"]

 

[Blackthorne]

"Ooof," said Dahl as she hit the ground, fatigues saturated by tuk'ata saliva, strings sticking from gaping jowls to discarded girl. She sat up just in time to catch the familiar helmet and the voice behind it as it stooped down.

Girl said nothing at first, blinking curiously under the hot breath of the panting beast. Aver Brand was not an unknown, but she was mostly only a familiar face. They'd not had many direct interactions - Quietus kept them separated as much as she could but there was only so many ways to keep track of numerous wild children. Dahl had seen to scampering off with Puppy any chance she got during Aver's visits and the pair, or trio if Eor also happened to be involved, had cause enough trouble along the way to leave some lasting impressions to be certain.

There was that time they'd careened through the tents in the early evening, demolishing everything in their path and making off with a very nice rack of freshly carved ribs from the spit.

Then there was that other time she'd stolen Aver's helmet and attempted to run around with it chasing Eor only to devolve into a screaming fit as an allergic reaction exploded across the exposed skin.

This particular memory played rather crisply behind Dahl's eyes as the woman leaned down over her with her phrik-plated armor gleaming under the sun. The idea of a lesson with the woman was appealing but the thought of contact with her armor made her skin crawl. She made a marked decision to lean away from the proffered hand and got to her feet on her own, one hand on the tuk'ata that blinked contently up into the sun, murring.

Waaaarrrmmmm.

"I can't touch your armor," and indeed she'd never touched a fleck of Aver's armor after the helmet incident.

 

[Aver Brand]

Oh.

“Right.” The half-grimace on Dahl’s face reminded her of a particular misfire a few years ago. She’d have called it instant karma if the girl hadn’t been screaming in apparent agony. Unfortunate.

Aver side-eyed the recruits milling at the edges of the courtyard, most of them thankful for the reprieve. Some were licking their wounds, others were chatting away or bragging about feats of combat.

Then they all, abruptly, stopped. And stared.

Rolling her eyes, the merc made short work of her armor. In under a minute, the plates were neatly stacked at her feet together with the helmet and the weapons-laden utility belt. She was left standing there barefoot in nothing but her armorweave underlay, shoulder-length hair matted to her skin. If the bodyglove hugged all her assets, well… Aver always liked to use every weapon at her disposal.

Puppy curled around her equipment with a lazy flex of her massive body – an efficient deterrent to anyone’s itchy fingers. Aver ran her hand along the spines of her back, then stalked over to the sparring ring.

“Ladies first,” she offered with a light smirk, relaxing her muscles and dropping in the knees.


[member="Blackthorne"]

 

[Blackthorne]

Girl was expressly happy to see the armor go, and not at all for what it revealed beneath. She stood, taking the momentary break from training to lean against Puppy, whispering in the beast's ear. The tuk'ata murmured in response, tail flicking lazily as the armor pieces continued to pile up. When Aver was ready she moved to join her in the arena. A crowd gathered and somewhere high above overlooking from the barracks was the man in charge of it all.

Ladies first.

She wasn't old enough to be bothered by the remark.

Dahl stooped, feet parted and toes clutching the ground before springing forward towards the towering woman and aiming a coiled palm for her solar plexus.

 

[Aver Brand]

Aver rotated out of the way on her front foot. Dahl’s fierce momentum would send her through the space where the merc used to stand, and her lack of balance would make her tumble. She relied on the body of her opponent to absorb her inertia.

But this opponent simply wasn’t there.

The girl stumbled, catching herself at the last second. Turned, wild hair trailing, and charged once more.

This time, Aver parried her strike with her forearm, twisting at the hips to send all that force out of attack line. She never attacked in turn, simply retreated to Dahl’s narrow measure. The girl was quick, sure, and stronger than most adult men – the merc could lift Puppy without breaking a sweat. Though she exercised great control over her power, there was hardly any lesson to be learned in smacking her down.

Not yet, anyway.

“Think before you attack,” she said as they circled. “Hand first, then your shoulder, your hips, and only then your legs.” Aver held her bright green eyes as she spoke, making sure the girl was listening.

“Now go again.”

 

[Blackthorne]

Dahl was focused and listening, green gaze never bothered to blink from that of arctic blue. She had the same eyes as her mother and much like the Beastia there existed no iota of fear within them. These eyes, however, lacked the regal bearings of a woman that had lived several lifetimes, making up for the lack of apathy with an excess of expression.

Aver would see the cogs turning, the steel of determination, edge of stubborn pride. Girl was not beneath learning her lessons - on the contrary she was eager to learn and more than ready to test herself, prove her mettle.

Think before you attack.

She studied Aver's stance, replaying in her own head the way the woman moved. This was not her first time going against someone of equal measure. She sparred with her parents and with Arathul often enough; all of which equal to, if not great in speed and strength than herself. Infuriating, at times, but Commander Revarde reminded her that that was how the humans felt against them. Sometimes she didn't know if she respected them more for it or pitied them.

Hands.

Fingers tightened around the bandaging wrapped there, coiling into place.

Shoulders. Hips.

She realigned herself to counter the woman's angle.

Legs.

The movement was fast, a shifting forward and in but not for a strike. Dahl moved to break into the invisible counter barrier, using her smaller stature to cut inwards, hands moving to slice through. Aver parried them with practiced ease but found that it didn't end so quickly this time. A flick of her arm toward's the girl's neck found her ducking. A step forward to trip her saw girl's feet moving in tandem. The Merc got a light swipe to her jaw but found that in the process that the wildling got a strike to her kidney.

Course Aver's reach was a great deal longer and where the girl was disoriented from the hit to the face she hooked a foot behind her knee and toppled her.

Dahl landed on her back, face flushed and pupils wide. She smirked and rubbed at her jaw, legs lifting to flip her back up on her feet with a swinging jump.

 

[Aver Brand]

Like it was wont to do, her sole expression quickly boiled down to a grin. Wild, delighted grin that showed off every pointed tooth in her mouth. When Aver called Nadir her home, she meant this – the excitement of a quickened heartbeat, the sheer life roaring through her veins as she moved through space like water. Adapting and changing to her circumstance, always.

Dahl hit the ground with a thud and leapt back up. Fiery, this one.

“That was better,” the merc nodded, pushing unruly red strands from her face. “Now see if you can judge your striking distance.”

With that, Aver crossed her arms behind her back, simply holding her stance – so low it’d murder your thighs if you weren’t used to it. But low meant faster, and faster meant alive.

Both in fisticuffs and swordplay, judging the distance – the measurehttp://www.thearma.org/rapierglossary.htm#.WYW4CoiGOUl – was of vital importance. It could make or break a fight (or a fighter), and learning to utilize it properly was one of the greatest assets a duelist could posses. Going hand-in-hand with exemplary footwork, wide and narrow measures could be exploited to trick foes into exposing themselves, or, indeed, crossing into striking distance without their notice.

Measure was an art, and Aver its lifelong study.

Dahl’s distance would of course be shorter than that of the merc, she was but a child. It was about teaching her the concept, however, and once she understood? Size wouldn’t matter.


[member="Blackthorne"]

 

[Blackthorne]

Oh this was a skill she knew and it was put into practice within nearly all aspects of a wildling's life. Hunting, moving through the jungles, keeping free of your quarry's many threatening limbs. Flying with the beasts, especially, one had to have good judge of distance and timing. Then there was sparring - both with and without swords. Though her brother excelled with finesse and the rapier, Dahl took to the short sword with eager familiarity. Then there was the lightsaber, though they were only allowed training sabers at this point it was a challenge to learn all the same.

With Aver, a woman nearly double her height at this present stage, girl was at a hideous disadvantage and she knew it. Green eyes watched those long arms fold out of use and reach and narrowed as the Merc sunk into position. Dahl stepped into her own and the lesson began.

It would quickly become apparent that she had an idea about the exercise. Eye-hand coordination, distance and perception - all three were highly honed in the wildling child. Where she faltered, again, would be her footwork and so that is where the schooling focused. The afternoon sun had begun its descent in the sky, a swealtering heat having settled across Irontown without mercy. Merc and Girl sparred and practiced, the latter taking no issue with the stifling summer. They didn't stop until Puppy rustled from her nap, sitting up over the pile of phrik armor and shaking out her frills.

The beast gurgled at the pair, beady red eyes watching Aver. She was thirsty and hungry and totally done with laying around.

 

[Aver Brand]

Sparring was still a fight, and with self-imposed limitations, it only got more fun. Aver felt pleasantly alive despite the hot, wet jungle air pressing in from all sides. And the sun beating down on them in the open courtyard. And the steady ache in her thighs for spending the last hour in a constant crouch.

The girl was fast and precise and learned quick, which was more than the merc expected. Should’ve known, though – the Beastia had one-upped her easily way back when, and there was no reason not to impart that sort of skill to Dahl.

It was Puppy that finally brought on the break. Aver rose to full height with a brief wince, waving the excited wildling down. “That was… good. You’re good, kiddo.” She glanced at the bored beast. Back at the girl. Again to the beast.

“Say, Dahl,” Aver spoke, leaning down to bind her plates together, “how ‘bout we give ya a ride and you lead us to wherever this thing’s happening?”

She’d seen the flock of skreev fly overhead a few minutes previous – felt Qui’s presence wash over her, too. Didn’t take much guessing that with the Queen returned (and the sun, finally, setting) the festival would start.

Wasn’t long before Shai was shaking off the last of her sleep and both women were sat astride her back. Just as paws began to pound the soil, Aver would move – one last surprise in store for the tiny menace.

Windswept hair, grinning mug, and strong arm suddenly looped around the girl. Leaning off to the side as she maintained her grip on Puppy’s spines, the merc dipped Dahl face-first into a passing pool of mud.

To cool her off, you understand.

 

[Blackthorne]

Wasn't much for it but to screech and flail. Dahl came up wiping sludge from her face but laughing nevertheless. Her brother wasn't called Greyhide for nothing - the pair of them spent plenty of time shoving one another into mud pits at the worst opportune moments. Mud, also, was the ideal way to hide one's scent for a hunt. Lots of mud. Everywhere.

Including splatted back at Auntie Aver.

Puppy came to a halt before a gate, having apparently either taken direction from Dahl or heed from the earlier suggestion. Using the gate was on the whole much easier for a beast that had no desire to put the extra effort into scaling the walls again. Not that this particular call could be scaled. Irontown's perimeter fences were no laughing matter. If the several layers of high-tensile electrified fencing and wires didn't stop and fry your heart, the turrets set on high would certainly get you.

After a few moments of waiting, some further flailing on the part of girl and merc aboard Puppy's back, the massive gate entrance to the Military district opened and permitted them out into the wilds beyond. Gathering their attention again with a hefty shake (nearly sending the both tumbling to the ground) Puppy turned in the guided direction to the east and plunged into the jungles to follow the sound of skreevs high above. She didn't make it easy for them to hang on, either, likely driven by the young girl's enthusiasm to return home. Skating along narrow paths and making her own, the tuk'ata bullied her way through thick vines and underbrush, climbing and crawling and scrabbling across gaping ravine drops. She came to a harrowing stop at the top of a precipice overlooking a sprawling river valley below filled to the brim with the tiny specs of people and beasts along the river port. The village span for as far as one could see in either direction, sitting to the north side of the river while the southern plains remain open farmland.

Lines of tribespeople walking on foot, following one another along various roots like a busy ant empire; the skies were just as congested. Beasts and their riders swooped in overhead, filling the evening with their cries. Dahl pulled herself free of the hound and the Merc, sliding off to the side to traipse along the cliff edge. And then, without any warning but a grin back at Aver, tossed herself over and into the open air beyond.