Logs:Easing the Itch - Revision history

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Taikrin at 05:28, 7 February 2013

2013-02-07T05:28:46Z

Taikrin at 04:47, 7 February 2013

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Taikrin: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Taikrin | where = Remote Minehold, Crom Area | what = Vignette. Later in the day, after she's taken F'rint's knot and confronted Glacier and consoled herself wi..."

2013-02-07T04:38:04Z

Created page with "{{ Log | who = Taikrin | where = Remote Minehold, Crom Area | what = Vignette. Later in the day, after she's taken F'rint's knot and confronted Glacier and consoled herself wi..."

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{{ Log
| who = Taikrin
| where = Remote Minehold, Crom Area
| what = Vignette. Later in the day, after she's taken F'rint's knot and confronted Glacier and consoled herself with her girlfriend, Taikrin slips out of the Weyr for some real relief.
| when = Late evening, Day 2, Month 13, Turn 30
| gamedate = 2012.02.06
| quote =
| weather =
| categories = Divided Leadership, Criminal Activity
| mentions =
| ooc =
| icons = taikrin.jpg
| log =
She'd been forbidden the pits in Greenfields by Zuman after her disgraceful performance there a couple of turns back. Well, fine. He'd only said he would never let her fight ''there'' again-- he hadn't said anything about the satellite rings they were federated with in the surrounding mineholds.

Referencing the right names got her in the door, and a look at the scars and muscling on her arms got her entered into a 2-mark prizefight. Though she'd implored Szadath to hide around the valley, she was sure they'd pegged her as a dragonrider when she'd insisted on a no-weapon, ten-second-knockdown bout. That was okay, though, because with no dragon and with a false name it would probably be more trouble than it was worth for them to ID her properly. Probably.

Anyways, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except easing that itch that had been building for sevendays, now, with each forced smile and affable agreement with those flaming sharding idiot Wingleaders and those stupid weyrwomen who refused to just ''let her handle it'' and H'kon who kept doing everything in his power to thwart her, and he was probably working with that FUCKER K'del who she was SO SURE was behind all of her current problems. It was fine, though, she could handle it just as soon as she managed to soothe that itch by rearranging some poor asshole's face with her fists. She was good at this. It was simple.

There he was, warming up across the way in the holding tank. Sizing her up. ''Yeah sure, fucker, take a good look. Yeah, I bet I look like easy prey. Go ahead. Lick your lips. I'm gonna be feeding you that tongue in a minute.''

Szadath was already a ball of icy-heat in her head, humming crimson encouragement as she stripped out of her faux-miner clothes and into her fighting gear. Should she wrap her fists? She stared at the wraps she'd brought, imagining what Azaylia might say about split knuckles in the morning, and then what Azaylia might say about a black eye or a set of busted ribs, or--

<< Stop. >>

''Right. Right. You're right. I'm good.'' The middle-aged miner was leering at her now as they stepped into the ring-- he must have caught that split-second of vacant look while she was psyching herself out. It was fine. It didn't matter that she hadn't done this for real in a turn or two-- she was Taikrin. She was good. Like grease, like oil, like ''Thread''; nobody could touch her. She wasn't soft. She ''wasn't''. He'd see. Any second now, the battle haze would descend and the instincts would take over and-- SHIT.

She'd miss the opening call. How could she have missed the opening call? She stumbled back, desperately throwing herself out of the way of her opponent's opening punches. They were forceful and slow, meant to put a quick end to the fight before it had even begin. She should be flying around them, raining fire down on his face, and -- SHIT -- all she could manage to do was stay out of his range.

The crowd was laughing, and the mark-takers were doing brisk business at what was starting to look like a short fight. She tried to dodge left, tripped over her own feet, and before she could recover she was sprawled halfway across the pit with fire spreading across her right side.

Somewhere, distantly, she thought she heard Szadath roaring. Or was that only in her head? They were at least ten feet underground. She scrambled into a crouch, staring up at her laughing, leering, advancing adversary as crimson pulsed in her vision in time with the throb in her ribs. He was coming, he was coming, and she was-- << GO. >>

'''...red...'''

The next thing she knew, someone had a standard restraining hold on her from behind, and the burning in her ribs was matched by a pleasant ache in her knuckles. There was blood on her hands, where had-- oh. Well, at least she'd wiped that smear off his face, though he'd left a part of a tooth in her hand for her trouble. She flicked it off, and it bounced off the arms he'd only now managed to pull up to cradle his broken face as he curled helplessly on the floor.

The crowd wasn't laughing anymore as they pulled Taikrin out of the arena, handed her her two-mark piece, and told her that maybe it'd be best if she didn't come back. He'd live, of course, though his buddies might not be too happy about spoon-feeding him mush for the next couple of sevens. It was for her own good, really, they'd send on to Zuman to let him know they'd found such a good fighter and maybe she could go and compete at the main pit in Greenfields?

She managed to nod, she thought, or at least must have expressed enough assent that they let her go out the door. She was having a hard time clearing the crimson cobwebs from her head, but as she pressed her forehead against Szadath's broad chest she sighed in profound relief.

The itching had stopped.

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 {{Log
-| who = Taikrin
+|type=Log
 | where = Remote Minehold, Crom Area
 | what = Vignette. Later in the day, after she's taken F'rint's knot and confronted Glacier and consoled herself with her girlfriend, Taikrin slips out of the Weyr for some real relief.

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 | what = Vignette. Later in the day, after she's taken F'rint's knot and confronted Glacier and consoled herself with her girlfriend, Taikrin slips out of the Weyr for some real relief.
 | when = Late evening, Day 2, Month 13, Turn 30
 | gamedate = 2013.02.06
 | quote =

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 | categories = Divided Leadership, Criminal Activity
 | mentions =
-| ooc =
+| ooc = Makes reference to [[Logs:Not_a_Murderer]]
 | icons = taikrin.jpg
 | log =

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 | what = Vignette. Later in the day, after she's taken F'rint's knot and confronted Glacier and consoled herself with her girlfriend, Taikrin slips out of the Weyr for some real relief.
 | when = Late evening, Day 2, Month 13, Turn 30
-| gamedate = 2012.02.06
+| gamedate = 2013.02.06
 | quote =
 | weather =
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 The crowd was laughing, and the mark-takers were doing brisk business at what was starting to look like a short fight. She tried to dodge left, tripped over her own feet, and before she could recover she was sprawled halfway across the pit with fire spreading across her right side.
-Somewhere, distantly, she thought she heard Szadath roaring. Or was that only in her head? They were at least ten feet underground. She scrambled into a crouch, staring up at her laughing, leering, advancing adversary as crimson pulsed in her vision in time with the throb in her ribs. He was coming, he was coming, and she was-- << GO. >>
+Somewhere, distantly, she thought she heard Szadath roaring. Or was that only in her head? They were at least ten feet underground. She scrambled into a crouch, staring up at her laughing, leering, advancing adversary as crimson pulsed in her vision in time with the throb in her ribs. He was coming, he was coming, and she was--
 '''...red...'''