Post by Vio on Dec 24, 2015 10:45:16 GMT -5
The words of Cormad Morre were powerful ones, bordering on inspiring, but much of the energy behind them was being put into fleeing from the area as quickly as was possible. All around, seamen groaned as they recovered from meagre wounds, but their slow stirrings did not faze Hector Wayland. All of his intent and focus was upon Yazzie. The Captain had put up a good fight in a short space of time – so good a fight, in fact, that it was very likely the blacksmith would have lost in the long run. Even with his natural durability and ‘blood knight’ outlook on a brawl, there was no denying that there were people out there who could best him. Yazzie was looking to be one of them, had he not given in due to the wear of his injuries. This wasn’t a fight to the death. It didn’t need to be. And so, with a surprising deal of respect for the man who had readily jumped in the way of his sword, the drunkard let him go. It wouldn’t be the last they’d see of each other, however.
“Heh…” Hector panted, allowing his stance to loosen. His beaming smile softened to an understanding grin, head bowing slightly as he towered above the rest. In just a second, the giant of a man had transformed himself from an immovable mountain and into a far more yielding presence. Muscles relaxed, shield at his side, but his eyes still twinkled with anticipation for the future. And then, before turning to follow the runaway pirate, he said; “Far as I’m concerned? There’s nothing better than a fight where the odds are against me! But I’m not the kind of guy to start a fight for the hell of it… That’s not how we Wayland’s work!”
His last comment directed more to his daughter than to the man with whom he had just clashed, the bronzed behemoth followed in the wake of Cormad Morre’s escape, Helen and Wilk calmly leading the way as their forms vanished into the alley. As had been said, a Wayland did not start a fight for the sheer sake of it; if ever a battle was forged with their hands, there was a heartfelt reason for it. Otherwise, it was simply a matter of jumping into an already existing brawl to test their mettle against what they deemed to be the winning side. Where was the fun in an easy victory?
“You wanna fight him again, right?” Helen asked as the titanic trio left the alley and headed towards the ports of Dauntaun. Her blue eyes shone with just as much determination and excitement as her father’s darker hues, well aware of the man’s thought processes as she too shared such a mentality. Yazzie was way out of her league. Even if her own style of fighting was a lot more aggressive than Hector’s, she did not possess the same level of durability that was granted by the blood of a quarter-Giant. That was not to say she could not endure heavy hits – quite the opposite in fact – but she was far less suited to fighting men of superhuman strength and combat experience than her paternal progenitor.
“Weihehei! I sure do!” Not one to hide his excitement, Mister Wayland’s broad strides seemed to broaden further still as the thoughts of fighting worthy opponents raced through his head. But alas, such opportunities would have to wait a while. Though the Captain’s words and demeanour had implied his willingness to ignore such a defiant act as defending a criminal, they had also brought to bear the fact that other officers of the law would not be so easily persuaded through matters of strength alone. In their eyes it was very much a case of defend a pirate, become a pirate, which had turned the world on its head for Hector and Helen… sort of? Well, not really. Neither of them particularly cared about which side of the law they were on, so long as they were entitled to the freedoms of metalwork and fighting that they so heavily hungered for. And that brought an altogether different but relevant question to mind.
“So, have you decided yet?” Hector quizzed, looking down to his daughter as they turned the corner. The target of the question pursed her lips, well aware that such a question was always going to come to light until she was able to answer it, but wishing that it would stop being asked of her every other day.
“Urgh! No, I haven’t,” the blonde groaned. “Do I even have to? Besides, everything’s pretty much taken already.”
“Helen. Being a blacksmith isn’t just a job for a Wayland. You know that! Weihehehei,” the mammoth of a man chuckled, “and what do you think makes a good blacksmith; their ability to copy, or their ability to create new things? There’re always more things to make, always more time to spend at the furnace, always ways to improve! But the first step? Weiheh-ell~ that’s just knowing what you’re doing!”
“Well, you make shields. Gramps makes tools. Great gramps makes armour. Great aunt Isa makes swords. Then there’s spears, guns and ammo, horseshoes, axes…” Needless to say, the Wayland family already covered quite a diverse array of things in which its many members specialised, leaving very little for the youngest member of the family to take up for herself without overlap. From great grandparent to distant cousin, the entire family coming together was both a blessing for anyone who wanted metalwork done, and a curse for anyone looking for a fight. To put it in perspective, Helen was the weakest member, and Hector currently tied for second; it didn’t take much imagination to guess the potential of the rest of the extensive family…{*OOC*}
Helen Wayland (ffcc22)
Wilk (aaaaaa)
Cormad Morre (e61919)
Yazzie (abcdef)[/ul][/ul][/spoiler][/font][/blockquote][/div][/div][/div]