Out in the humid heat of the high noon time, when the sun was right about the thick greenery of a flourishing rain forest; was a fallen angel with silver orbs. Sternly, those silver big eyes were in a concentrated look as she focused hard on her beautiful working hands. Her pale hands, one fan was in each hand, thrusting at the air with force, trying to do the impossible as splitting the winds. Of course she wasn’t really trying to, but the sound of whistling air as it passed her blades made a nice sound. Left-right, left-right went her hands holding the fans, and each jab she shifted her weight with it. Calmly she thought about these fans going though someone’s neck over and over. But sadly there was no one currently in the rainforest, or so she had noticed when she came. Yet Aaris was happy that there was no one to ruin her training, and blood would make her hands all sticky, which would make it harder to control. Not that she didn’t mind seeing any blood stained objects, especially her weapons.

The fan blades were dark black, and red lining right near the sharp metal was at the very tips. Made perfectly for cutting someone in close range. Her style of most enjoyed combat were magical usage, and long rang bow and arrow. That was always nice to see a big surprised look in beings faces as they wondered just how an arrow got in their side without noticing it. Quietly the wind blew as Aaris continued to jab, changing her patterned with different ideas. But soon something stopped her and she thought she heard something coming her way.

((crappy post sorry I feel sick))

Pale beams of light poured between the crevices of intermingling leaves. The air drifted like a silken blanked, soothing and reassuring unlike that which could be found in Arda's varying cities. It was here that Melandro dared to pass on his path towards Ered Annon where the Rites of Initiation were to be delivered to a young lad named Demetrio Vasquez. Flight, though his preferred method of travel made adventures a bore when compared to the dangers that are likely along the route of a man who simply resulted to walking. Such it seemed would be made fact this afternoon when the parting of trees revealed the existence of another soul in a nearby clearing. For some reason, a woman had decided that the perfect location for combat-training was at the dead center of a rain forest, miles from actual civilization. For a moment there, Obsidian thought of it better than those who flashed the breadth of their muscles along the city square yet when challenged had nothing to show. However it was upon keen observation of the stranger's tools of war that her alignment would be put to question. Melandro, though himself had unavoidably participated in feats of murder had always ascertained that his weapons were left unstained by the blood of his victims yet it seemed this woman wore her rampages with pride.

In silence he would remain astride, leaving the uncertainty of auditory detection to his skill in keeping hidden while the heat of his palms rested upon the hilts of his trade. It was at such time when the stranger was somewhat bothered by what she could have perceived to be the presence of another that he made his existence known. For truly, what reason is there to stand in wait like a tiger waiting to strike if violence could be avoided yet of course it didn't mean he was unprepared.

" A fine noon, my fellow warrior..."

He would utter as a greeting.

" My apologies if I have disrupted your practice yet I could be on my way if that would bother you no longer."

He continued with a tone, deathly low. This time he moved between the base of two towering giants whose branches reached far into the sky. It was there that he finally made himself visible and at the same time left an unspoken note that he came to shed no harm. From a distance, however, he would establish the profile of an artisan of the blade. His footing, a certainty. His watch, keen and focused. His air, pure and simple intimidation that can possibly bring a cease to a man's heart though his will, be strong and unshaken.

Steadily her pale wrists covered in black adorning clothes flexed once more elevated then declined once more. Gently she felt like someone was watching her so swiftly her fans closed thanks to her fingers. Sounding like metal clashing together they firmly closed tightly, and the fallen angel put them against her body; easily slipping them half way in her high boots. Lightly her silver haired head dropped down while her body turned to face the new comer. Her silver eyes scanned her shoes for a moment then lifted her head to see the new comer’s shoes. Finally she raised her head up enough to see the figure before her though silver locks. Aaris was slightly stunned and amused that he called her a warrior, a truth that so few knew until it was too late. Thus her name wasn’t known in most places because she hardly let any eye witnesses alive after going on one of her rampant attacks.

After his cold lowly tone towards her, she stood there silent with no expression; but as a creeping snake a small smirk appeared on her pale soft lips. His way of walking, also his speech intimidated her a little. Yet this figure was quite interesting, and his motives could be very misunderstood, since there was a cloak of mystery which seemed to hover around him. In short he seemed like the type of person you didn’t want to get angry if you crossed their path, and Aaris was the lucky number to get this chance.

His silence gave the dark figured angel a chance to speak. “Apology excepted.” She said in a mellow tone with a timid pause. “I would be more interested in practicing with a live opponent, if you aren’t too busy to go on your way of course.” Her small little smirk turned into a slight grin, baring off white teeth, and a crease of flesh on her face. Bloodlust was beginning to rise, so it took extra strength to push them away because right now she wanted to see just want this man could do before she asked a death wish. For now she would wait and stare into his Sapphire eyes.

The fallen angel could almost hear her quiver whispering to her hand to grab a bow, then shoot towards the man so her own silver orbs might just see what would happen next. Waiting was the intense part of destruction, but indeed it was an important part before you leap without seeing below.

Melandro’s eyes blazed an intrigued fire as he watched the slender female reveal her skill with a rather unique weapon considered rare to those who have clashed their blades with his. What was once a popular oriental accessory in reviving the old women who had found themselves fainting in the midst of a disorganized crowd seems to have now become a tool for destruction. Fans then made from pressed papyrus fibers were now crafted from sheets of metal meant not to distribute Ploay’s winds any further but to slit a man’s throat with graceful skill.

A crease formed as he smirked, watching the young goddess of havoc withdraw her weapons only to be slipped half-way into the comfort of her boots. It was then, as she spoke, that he crossed his arms beneath the cover of his ebon mantle in a casual manner before his chest as if amused by her suggestion. In truth, however, his palms’ weight rested correspondingly upon the hilt of the blades that lay sheathed in secret. After all, he would not be swayed to believe that an innocent invitation to combat would necessarily be brought about fairly. The best warriors were those that stared in the eyes of danger and were agile enough to perform a devastating counter.

“ I am a woodsman. I make a profit from obliterating forests by severing trees in half.”

The Nocturne remarked sarcastically.

“ I have a wife and eight daughters to feed and work is beyond imaginable. Truly, I will be a waste of your time for a corpse is more skilled in combat than I ever would be.”

In the midst of his playful speech, Melandro had begun to lessen the space that parted them both as his soles pressed firmly, soundlessly and selectively upon patches of grass towards the meager clearing where she stood. Never, not a moment did his stare depart hers as if he were in a constant observance of even her slightest movements. His or so it would seem were like the eyes of the forest who looked upon any trespasser down to the very fabric that they wore if any at all. These were not the simple gaze of a mere log trader as his words had ironically claimed. They were more like a serpent’s; fixed and unmoving for that single, fatal strike.

Their distance would be reduced to a few meager feet, almost within arm’s reach. It was in that closeness that he observed the malice in the bloodlust of her grin. To see such wickedness in a stare was not a new experience. Not long ago, he had remembered a part of himself waking to a new dawn from a nightmare that would never leave his mind. Barely clothed then, his blurred gaze fell first upon a wall stained with message meant for him alone.

” Your wife is nothing but the beginning.”

He found himself in a mattress soaking in blood. The horror of which was beyond words for there lay beside him the mocking glare of three severed heads whose faces had been mutilated beyond belief. Man, woman and child, they once were but eyes were now gauged from their sockets. He could still hear their cries from the sight of their faces for there, tears of crimson streamed in a streak of caked blood down their cheeks only to lead to lips that were no longer identifiably human. They were sliced, extended to the smile of clowns to the very tips of their ears that made their mouths seem larger than they were. Their visages, were a contortion of a painful death that became all the more evident as he then panned his vision to capture the entirety of the scene. A male leg, a child’s hand, a female’s bare torso. All were the remnants of a decapitation made by a jagged knife he could not fathom to have existed.

Orbs flickered, leading him once again to the present where he stood before the woman who had challenged him to her game of war. Just as the dawn in his memories, Valec was asleep yet the question was, how long would it last? And if he woke would the circumstances change from just that simple game to a battle of survival? Nay, it seemed that the shroud of the unknown was thicker than expected for eyes to pierce. That leap would be more than necessary for the woman to see the secrets that lay below.