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Post by Zsasilda the Solitary on Jan 7, 2014 3:30:38 GMT
Zsasilda really didn't know why she bothered.
She circled her opponent, eyes darting to and fro as she sought for an opening. The deck of the Drakonborg was relatively non-crowded, allowing her plenty of space to maneuver. The other Tiro was cautious, seemingly reluctant to make the first move. She wasn't really surprised, given his short stature and slender frame. He probably didn't have much in the way of strength, though he maintained his guard well for such a low ranking human. But they'd been circling like this for a few minutes now. If nobody made a move soon, Zsasilda half expected her mentor to throw that book of his at one of them.
His shoulder twitched. He is attacking.
I noticed, thank you Uri.
She raised the practise blade, successfully parrying the strike. The wooden rapier was slightly heavier than her real one and the grip significantly different to force her to consciously adjust her hold. But still, there had been no doubt that she would deflect this attack. Not for her, anyway. Seeing her opponent's momentary hesitation as he contemplated what to do next, she took the opportunity to lunge.
Optimum striking angle is 25 degrees, from fifteen centimetres to your right.
I'm fine. Do me a favour and run another systems check, or something.
Zsasilda stepped in, pressing the point of the practise blade to her opponent's chest.
"Dead," she said.
Then she felt the wooden sword against her ribs, just as Uri piped up once more:
You ignored my warning. It this was a real situation, you would have been severely wounded.
If this was real combat, he would have died before he was able to make that strike.
Even so, you must exercise greater caution.
By the stars, Uri! It was a wooden practise sword. Don't you think I would be able to handle a real situation somewhat better?
The other had withdrawn his sword and was starting to leave. Thus ended the third round of their combat, and apparently their practise altogether. Zsasilda turned towards her mentor, frowning as she cast the practise weapon aside.
"Did you manage to see any of that?"
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Post by Cedric Vyrrson on Jan 7, 2014 5:06:24 GMT
The Tiros were being boring again.
Cedric shifted in his makeshift seat and stifled a grimace as they continued to circle each other, eyes seemingly on the book in front of him. He was sitting atop a throne of crates: a chair he'd constructed with armrests, a back, and even a footrest, all of supply crates laying about the deck.
Arnlief's sparring partner struck, which she parried easily. The Vetr could not deny that his Tiro was exceptionally good at swordfighting, but neither was he about to let her go for such a sloppy job. No, he'd come to expect better of his apprentice than that.
In her opponent's pause, Bondidottir lunged in and finished the job.
"Dead."
However, her opponent brought his blade in, tapping it against her ribcage. Cedric's complexion darkened for a sliver of a moment, fast enough to make an observer think it a trick of their mind. Before one could one could even comprehend his changing emotions, he was back to normal, appearing for all the world as if he were reading his book instead of analyzing the fighting techniques of his apprentice.
"Did you manage to see any of that?"
Indeed, I did. And it was not bad, not bad at all. Especially for a Tiro. However, compliments can weaken a person.
Cedric didn't raise his eyes from the book, but he spoke. "Your form."
He drew in a deep sigh, giving the rather brash Tiro time to reply if she so desired.
"It's getting worse."
The Vetr's eyes flickered down a few more lines of text.
"Additionally, you would not be half so chipper right now, were that a real fight. That blow could have popped a lung. Tell me, Tiro, how long does it take for a person to bleed to death?"
He waited for her to respond before shutting his book with a clap and answering his own question. The tome was a hardcover, and one of his spare copies. He wasn't about to risk his favorite on what he planned today.
"Your stab would have hit his heart, or grazed the top. The heart, however, has a way of suctioning itself closed for a little bit, especially once a blade is withdrawn. Your attacker would be bleeding to death, yes, but with a major artery or vein that takes minutes. People can live and fight with one punctured lung, a fact which is a double-edged blade. Your strike would have incapacitated your opponent, but it would not have saved you from one nasty little nick to your side."
Cedric gave her a lopsided smile. "I've come to expect much better of you, my dear Arnlief. You might also want to consider tempering that tongue of yours sometime. Not everyone here is so tolerant of your cattish tone as myself."
He placed the book on his lap, taking a moment to stretch, slouching down in his makeshift chair. "Besides, the wisest can learn something from a fool."
The Vetr let out a yawn, his tongue curling slightly, as if alluding to his incredibly feline nature. "You're probably bored, aren't you."
He appeared to close his eyes, leaving only thin slits open, barely visible beneath his eyelashes, watching for her reaction. He waited for her to get in a few words, with hands clasped atop the hardcover book on his stomach, elbows hanging. His eyelids shut all the way.
Then, in a flash, he struck, in one motion grasping the book and sending it spinning through the air at Arnlief's face. Her reaction would determine their activities for the next few hours.
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Post by Zsasilda the Solitary on Jan 7, 2014 6:22:36 GMT
"Additionally, you would not be half so chipper right now, were that a real fight. That blow could have popped a lung. Tell me, Tiro, how long does it take for a person to bleed to death?"
Well I'm not a human, am I? How on earth am I supposed to know that?
A few minutes, my lady. If it's a major artery.
What? Uri, how do you know?
It was discussed during the last meeting of the Infinite.
Zsasilda grunted aloud in reply, and shrugged at Cedric. What would this human know anyway? If she were in danger, in a fight, she could always just change form. Granted, there was the off chance she could be killed before she had that chance. But Zsasilda the Solitary was not in the habit of placing herself in life or death situations. As for the popped lung....a nuisance, indeed; but nothing a Promethaen with healing powers couldn't handle. Wasn't there one of those on the Drakonborg?
Volundr the Diffident, ma'm.
Thank you, Uri.
"Your stab would have hit his heart, or grazed the top. The heart, however, has a way of suctioning itself closed for a little bit, especially once a blade is withdrawn. Your attacker would be bleeding to death, yes, but with a major artery or vein that takes minutes. People can live and fight with one punctured lung, a fact which is a double-edged blade. Your strike would have incapacitated your opponent, but it would not have saved you from one nasty little nick to your side."
"I've come to expect much better of you, my dear Arnlief. You might also want to consider tempering that tongue of yours sometime. Not everyone here is so tolerant of your cattish tone as myself."
I can't help but listen, ma'm. He is sitting right in front of us.
I didn't know the heart thing though. That's interesting.
"Besides, the wisest can learn something from a fool."
Even if it's only how to be foolish.
Yes thank you, Uri. Your unsolicited opinion was not asked for.
She blinked as Cedric Vyrrson spoke again, implying that she was bored. She wasn't really, but she supposed that was the best explanation for her lack of spoken words; and so she shrugged again and nodded.
"I guess I am," she replied, though he almost appeared to be falling asleep. She frowned, admittedly more than a little confused. Was this some new human thing?
"Erm..." she began.
Then he grabbed the book and flung it right at her. Barely able to believe this, Arnleif ducked under the volume, feeling the rush of air as it flew overhead.
Can you believe this guy? She thought, incredulous.
Aloud, she simply straightened up, shouting as she did so:
"What was that for?!"
Clearly the man had issues. Uri had gone silent again, and she suspected that he was amused. Zsasilda, however, was not. She had half a mind to tear up the deck of the Drakonborg with her powers, just to see how Vyrrson would react. See if he would be so eager to throw things at her then. He'd probably try and hide- she knew his kind.
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Post by Cedric Vyrrson on Jan 7, 2014 19:05:06 GMT
"What was that for?!"
Oh, someone's going to throw a hissyfit.
Cedric pushed up his glasses with two fingers, a small smile showing his amusement at her enraged reaction.
"To ensure you were on your toes," he responded simply, frowning as his book descended towards the earth. With a flick of his fingers, the shadows coalesced into a hand, which reached skyward and caught the book. He held out one hand, palm open expectantly, and the dark claw glid across the ground, depositing the book in his waiting grasp. "One of the most important, if not the most important, skills for fighting is the ability to stay aware at all times. One can tire out an opponent simply by being aware and engaging your reflexes. You've managed to pass that particular test."
The Vetr took a moment to examine his tome, ensuring that it was in good quality. A few of the pages appeared to have been folded on the corner in its passage. His lip curled downwards in a mocking pout as he unfolded them, caressing the paper slightly as he brought it back to its former condition. Other than that, however, the book appeared to be in excellent condition despite its rather exciting activities.
"You have a few choices as to what to do for the rest of the day. You can either go back to fencing with Tiros, or I can find an Iduneus or Pryfektus for you to spar with. I might even be able to find time in my most busy schedule to poke at you with a stick."
He paused, standing up. It was likely that none of those options appealed to Arnleif, and he couldn't blame her. Tucking the book into the crook of his arm, he brought his free hand up to shield his eyes from the light and glanced around, finding his drake hanging upside-down on one of the masts. Puck's wide eyes looked to him with perfectly innocent wide eyes, blinking slowly.
The drake was probably up to some trouble or other.
He beckoned to the mischief-maker, to which the drake's tail twitched eagerly. In a few moments, Puck was bounding down from the roosts, plowing over drakes on his way.
Cedric turned his attention back to his Tiro as his drake ran rampant, seemingly oblivious to the irritated sounds coming from the mast and cries of surprised Drakonrhedi. "Alternatively, there's a cave that my scouts have been monitoring for the last few days. Two Pyropan--a mated pair, it seems--have been visiting extremely frequently, but only one will leave at a time. I figured I may as well check it out. Puck can take two riders, if you feel like omelette. You'll need a better sword, however. That one won't do much."
Most Tiros would jump at the chance to get into the field, especially this early in their training. He had a feeling that Arnleif would be similar--he was just worried that her pride would make it seem like a good idea to jump right into combat with a behemoth, which it certainly was not. However, there would only be trouble if more behemoths decided to show up. Recon and assassination were his specialties, and he could take two grown Pryopan and even some babies. The Vetr was fairly certain he that there were only eggs within the cave. Eggs were easy to smash.
"So, what will it be?"
Tags: Zsasilda the Solitary
Inspiration: Falconer - Waltz With The Dead
Notes: Sorry it fails.
I figured it'd be pretty cool to roleplay out what's probably her first or second time in the field.
However, if you'd rather not, she can just say that she wants to spar with him or something.
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Post by Zsasilda the Solitary on Jan 8, 2014 10:00:05 GMT
"You've managed to pass that particular test."
Well, of course I passed it!
I never doubted you, mistress.
Obviously he did.
She listened to her options, weighing them up in her mind. Obviously she had no desire to face pyropan, and the possibility of having to transform to save her life if the need arose. That would be....awkward, at the least, to explain to Vyrrson. Then again; sparring with him could be a challenge as well...to say the least; he was more accustomed to a human form and human weaponry than she.
However, her mentor did seem set on them going on this assignment; judging from the rather boisterous drake now bounding in their direction.
Will he take no for an answer?
Only one way to tell, mistress.
"I don't think I am quite ready to tackle a behemoth, sir," she said, with a polite smile. "However, I would not be adverse to sparring with my esteemed mentor."
Cedric Vyrrson was a fascinating if aggravating specimen, to be sure, and she would probably learn a lot from observing his combat style. Of course she would lose, and it would most likely hurt, but she very much doubted he would do any permanent damage. Besides, she hadn't gotten where she was without suffering a few injuries along the way. She would heal, and be back to training in no time. An acceptable price to pay for extra knowledge about these...creatures. As far as she knew, none of her comrades had yet studied this particular specimen in depth.
Uri, I'm going to need you to be extra focussed if we end up sparring him.
I am always one-hundred-percent focussed, Exemplar, as per my instructions.
No need to be smart. I intend to study Vyrrson, which may mean not paying as much attention to the combat as I should. I will need you to compensate for this.
Very well, mistress.
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Post by Cedric Vyrrson on Jan 9, 2014 4:30:22 GMT
"I don't think I am quite ready to tackle a behemoth, sir. However, I would not be adverse to sparring with my esteemed mentor."
An eyebrow raised, and Cedric chuckled. "Interesting. I thought you would be eager for the bragging rights." He shrugged. "But be very certain, during your first few missions you will not 'tackle' a behemoth. You would not even come close. You would stay safe while I do the killing, so it's unlikely that the Pyropan would actually pose a threat, let alone make it to their cave. Either way, I have no objections."
With the sound of claws scraping on wood, Puck careened around a corner and leaped off a banister to slide to a stop in front of his master, plopping down into a sitting position and staring at the Vetr with wide, puppyish eyes.
"What're you staring at, you flea-riddled knave?"
Affection suffused his voice, even though it appeared that the drake understood his words to be an insult, Puck responded with a quick, eager waggle of his hindquarters.
"Well, I don't know what we're doing yet. Arnleif's choosing today. You know Arnleif."
The drake blinked once before bounding over a step to gaze at the Tiro. Mischief and energy, along with feral intellect, sparked in his steel eyes. Evidently, Vyrrson was his only master. Puck stared directly at Arnleif, an attempt to hold eye contact.
"Don't do that, staring is rude."
Puck rumbled once with a roll of his eyes and began to blink rapidly, therefore voiding any "staring" he might be doing.
Cedric gave an exasperated sigh. "Heel."
The drake responded by warbling sadly, turning over his shoulder to gaze sadly at his master, at which Cedric pointed directly behind him and raised his blue eyebrows in an expectant manner.
After Puck had retreated to his spot, sullenly sitting behind his master, the Vetr gave a quick hand signal. With an exasperated grumble, the drake meticulously laid down.
"Now," Cedric started, stepping over and covering his drake's eyes to prevent any nonverbal pleading on Puck's part, "If you'd really prefer to spar, I will fetch my training swords and Puck will have to play cheerleader. Besides, that's all this useless mongrel is good for anyway."
There was a rumble of protest from the drake.
"Serves you right. What even were you up to?" the Vetr muttered tersely at his partner.
Another protest, this one a warble, like a teenager protesting that they were innocent.
"Oh, don't give me that."
Puck replied by shaking his head free and very carefully raising a paw up, before nibbling on his innermost pawpad.
Cedric was aghast.
"Did you just bite your thumb at me, sir?"
The drake purred in a self-contented manner.
Vyrrson shook his head, sighing tiredly. "Please do decide, Arnleif, before my drake further insults my manhood."
Tags: Zsasilda the Solitary
Inspiration: Falconer - Waltz With the Dead
Notes: I'm sorry for the Shakespeare reference but too many posts went by without Cedric babbling in verse.
I also needed fluff, and figured that Cedric probably did the gesture enough for Puck, being the mischievous bastard that he is, to pick up on it.
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Post by Zsasilda the Solitary on Jan 10, 2014 2:49:45 GMT
- - Masquerade, a mask of steel; winding life onto the reel - - What do you think, Uri?
I believe we will acquire far more useful information from staying here with Cedric Vyrrson. The Promethaen have already amassed a fair amount of knowledge on the Pyropan.
It's settled, then. We will stick with my plan.
She had barely finished the thought when a snow drake slid around a corner, coming to a none too graceful halt in front of her mentor. Surprised at first, Zsasilda quickly recognised it as Puck; Vyrrson's own snow drake and a most amusing creature.
"What're you staring at, you flea-riddled knave?"
He's talking like that again.
Quoting "literature", I believe.
Interesting word, that.
It derives from the Latin "litterae", and refers to...
Yes, thank you, Uri. I know this. It was just a thought.
She remembered a time long ago when she'd found it strange, having one conversation inside her mind while another aloud. Now, it was almost second nature. She moved her gaze from Puck to Vyrrson as the latter continued speaking:
"Well, I don't know what we're doing yet. Arnlief's choosing today. You know Arnlief."
The drake bounded up to her, lively gaze seeking out her own. She held his with ease, even giving him a little smile as she did so. She remembered when her people had decided to gift these creatures to humanity. It had probably been a wise choice. Strong and self-aware, they certainly made far more apt companions for battle than horses ever had.
"Don't do that, staring is rude."
The drake responded with rapid blinking, which even managed to elicit a chuckle from the Promethaen. Of all the snow drakes she'd met, she held Puck to be her favourite.
Do you think he knows who we are? She asked Uri.
I strongly doubt it, mistress.
You're right. It was silly of me to think that.
She watched Vyrrson trying to get his drake under control. The amount of time it took amused her somewhat: though Puck's response to each command was swift, it took several of them to get him into position lying beside his alleged master. She could feel Uri analysing her observations- he wasn't exactly subtle about it- and she let him be. Let him transmit what data he would.
Zsasilda watched the drake and Drakonrhedi converse for a while longer, admiring the way they interacted without even sharing a lanaguage, until a statement directed at her made her change focus.
"Please do decide, Arnlief, before my drake further insults my manhood."
She blinked at her mentor.
"I would really prefer to spar, thank you. I'm sure Puck here will make a fine cheerleader."
- - And playing back now, the scenes that you looked away from - - |
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Post by Cedric Vyrrson on Jan 10, 2014 23:35:13 GMT
"I would really prefer to spar, thank you. I'm sure Puck here will make a fine cheerleader."
Cedric grinned. "Righto, let me get my sparring weapons."
The drake, meanwhile, gave a melodramatic moan that would make one think he was on his deathbed, flopping to the side resignedly and going limp. The Vetr could only roll his eyes.
"Don't pay the big baby any heed. He's just being a drama queen. And no, Puck, I'm not letting you back on the roosts, you'll start misbehaving again."
There was a sad little gurgle from the drake.
"Yes, I just called you a girl, you pansy," Cedric shot over his shoulder as he made his way towards the entrance closest to his cabin. Darting into the Drakonborg, he quickly managed to retrieve his personal sparring blades from his quarters--specially built to mimic the gunblades that he was accustomed to.
To an average fighter, they would feel horribly unbalanced, and he had to admit that they were not as graceful as he would prefer. However, the deadlier ranged aspect of a gunblade certainly paid off for it, and with enough practice, one could certainly fight just fine with the sword. The Vetr had, obviously, devoted himself to this particular mastery, and although he could fight and spar quite fine with a normal blade, a little more time with his specialty couldn't hurt. This was especially true due to the aforementioned odd aspects of his particular weapon of choice.
Meanwhile, Puck rolled upright, wiggling forward to nudge at Arnleif's hand. It was fairly obvious that the drake was just begging for attention, probably just because he felt like it.
Cedric hurried back, blades in one hand.
Puck looked towards his master tiredly at his return, letting out a small yawn, pink tongue curling.
"Yes, well, you can sleep over there." He used his free hand to point towards the edge of the deck, far from where the two would be fencing.
The drake's incredibly expressive eyes widened, seeming to brim with tears and exude sadness.
"I know your tricks. Get." He shook his hand threateningly.
With a sad whine, Puck stood and made his way over to the place indicated by his master.
"That's right. And don't even try to trip either of us. Tail where I can see it, paws tucked, wings folded, head back."
The drake sullenly obeyed each command, seeming resigned to his fate.
"Naughty little bugger." With a small smile, Cedric stuck one of the sparring weapons through his belt and held the other one, moving to stand on one side of the drake, perhaps to keep an eye on him. "Alright then, Arnleif." He brought the blade up to a ready position, swinging it about slightly.
"En garde. Whenever you're ready."
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Post by Zsasilda the Solitary on Jan 11, 2014 7:13:07 GMT
- - Masquerade, a mask of steel; winding life onto the reel - -
"Yes, I just called you a girl, you pansy."
As the Drakonrhedi disappeared to get his sparring weapons, Zsasilda smiled at the drake.
"If you really wanted to go back to the roosts, Puck; now would be your chance."
You remember what Cedric Vyrrson's weapons are like, don't you, mistress?
I haven't seen them for real, but I have heard a little about them.
Do you think the practise weapons are comprised of both the blade and the gun aspects?
There's only one way to find out.
Puck nudged at Zsasilda's hand, and the Promethaen smiled and scratched his nose. He resembled her people more than he did the humans- resembled them more than she did right now, in fact. In spite of her love of learning, this familiarity was somewhat comforting. She hadn't seen a Promethaen in its true form in several months now. The Exemplar wasn't even sure she would be able to look at her reflection without feeling odd, for a while after she finally reverted to her true form.
Vyrrson returned, carrying his bladed weapons. From her angle, Zsasilda could not tell whether these ones could also act as guns. Her insides twitched uncomfortably, and she appealed to Uri for his opinion; moving to retrieve her own practise weapon from where it had fallen as she did.
Hmm...I can not see anything resembling a chamber. But I can't get a good look at them from here. Would you be able to shift a little to the left, mistress? Ah....still nothing. Please tilt your head? Well, I hate to guess- you know that better than anyone. But if I had to guess, I would say that there is no gun-like attribute present.
Thank you, Uri. I truly value your input, and I trust your instincts; though I would still like you to keep an eye out in case a gun attachment does present itself.
Thank you, mistress.
Barely able to keep from chuckling, Zsasilda watched her mentor deal with Puck. The snow drake whined sadly, trudging towards the edge of the deck. She found herself feeling pleased that her own lifelong companion responded to commands so readily. Just another thing which set the Promethaen above humanity. And Uri above other OAI, she was inclined to believe.
Why thank you, mistress.
Don't let it go to your head, Uri. Get ready to assist- remember my instructions from before. I need you to focus on what my opponent is doing more so than usual.
"En garde. Whenever you're ready."
She moved her left foot back into a defensive position, dipping her rapier in front of her body and smiling politely at her mentor. The Exemplar took in his stance, the way he supported the practise blade, the way that he orientated himself in relation to his snow drake. Zsasilda knew that this would all be useful information, to the ever analytical minds of her people. They had impacted the course of humanity so fundamentally: so much of what the humans did reflected this fact, and what didn't was just as worth scrutinising.
Any advice, Uri?
None yet. You could try going left first, perhaps striking at the throat.
Thank you.
Zsasilda nodded slightly, meeting Cedric Vyrrson's gaze as she prepared for the exercise to begin.
"I'm ready."
- - And playing back now, the scenes that you looked away from - - |
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Post by Cedric Vyrrson on Jan 12, 2014 0:06:13 GMT
"I'm ready."
Arnlief stood at guard with a polite smile on her face.
Cedric's gaze analyzed her form as he assumed his own fencing stance, staring sideways down the length of the blade at his Tiro.
His arm was perfectly straight, strengthened by years of experience and combat. His hand grasped the handle comfortably and naturally, tempered by battle. While he did not dip into the exaggerated lunge of an ornamental fencer, his stance was still balanced and ready for action, both knees slightly bent and left foot farther back, leaving most of his weight on his right. His left hand was the only thing entirely abnormal: instead of leaving it behind him, he placed the flat of his hand against the small of his back, helping to keep his shoulders up and back in a position of good posture. It was a personal preference of his.
"You have good balance. Chin up, roll your shoulderblades together."
He let out a small chuckle. "Draw thy tool! here comes
two of the house of the Montagues."
Well, she technically wasn't of the Montagues, neither was she two people. But that didn't matter, the line was nice. Especially in the context of sparring and the like. And besides, it was Shakespeare! What could go wrong?
Absolutely nothing, of course.
And with that, he struck, feinting towards her left shoulderblade before making a quick poke towards her right leg.
Regardless of whether or not he hit, he withdrew slightly, giving her space to counter. This was a sparring match, after all, not a duel to the death. He also was her mentor, meaning that he did have to see both her defensive and offensive strengths and capabilities.
Puck gave a little warble, reminiscent of a war horn.
The Vetr flashed a smile, but he did not glance towards the drake, instead keeping his eyes on his opponent. Arnleif was keen enough to strike him when his defense was down.
However, Puck remained a wildcard: although the drake did work flawlessly with his master when things got serious, during less intense times he was prone to mischiefmaking and the like.
Cedric could only hope the drake'd have the sense to understand that he was trying to train this poor Tiro and not trip either of them.
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Post by Zsasilda the Solitary on Jan 12, 2014 5:12:02 GMT
- - Masquerade, a mask of steel; winding life onto the reel - - "You have good balance. Chin up, roll your shoulderblades together."
I don't think your chin quite needs to be that high, mistress.
I was looking at something. Look, I've fixed it now.
She examined her mentor's pose: the way his hand pressed into his back (perhaps some old habit?), the way he held himself, the way his feet were positioned. Then, of course, he flung one of those quotes of his at her. Some human author named William Shakespeare, Zsasilda had worked out. He had written a few works of variable quality. He did have some quite nice sonnets though. There was a rumour among the Promethaen that one of Zsasilda's lineage had introduced this poetic style to humanity. While Zsasilda had found no evidence to support this theory, it was certainly one which she enjoyed.
She raised her gaze to examine his eyes- clear, giving nothing away. A popular stance for humanity to take, it seemed. Not that all of them were particularly good at it: case-and-point, the Tiro she had faced not half an hour before.
He is striking, mistress.
Thank you, Uri.
Left shoulderblade. Wait...no, mistress! Right leg.
Zsasilda observed Vyrrson's subtleties in facial expression as she quickly brought her blade down, clumsily parrying the strike. She cared little for her form, however- at least that had got the blade out of the way. It did indeed seem like these were perfectly ordinary, perfectly gunless; sparring tools. That would make things easier for her, she supposed.
Strike now, mistress. Perhaps the throat.
You're certainly bloodthirsty today, Uri.
Zsasilda observed how the warble of the drake managed to elicit a smile from her mentor, further evidence of an apparently deep connection. She'd glimpsed this between many of the Drakonrhedi and their mounts. It was very...noble. Noble, and perhaps a little inconvenient- at least in the case of the Promethaen, their dearest companions were locked safely away inside their heads, so to speak. The Exemplar could only imagine what it would be like to lose an OAI, and supposed that many Drakonrhedi had felt this awful loss with the fall of a drake.
Zsasilda struck out towards his chest, careful this time to stand with her left side slightly back to protect her heart. In a real situation, that posture could actually be important. Here, it was simply good practise.
Good practise...what am I on about? I have greater powers than this puny sword.
Still, wouldn't it be convenient to be able to engage in combat without "breaking character", as they say?
I suppose you're right, Uri. I may be needed here yet.
Tags: Cedric Vyrrson
Inspiration:
Notes: I don't even know man. I should have gone for more than one attack, shouldn't I? Ah well, next time!
Table made by Opal.
- - And playing back now, the scenes that you looked away from - - |
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Post by Cedric Vyrrson on Jan 12, 2014 6:21:59 GMT
Arnleif parried rather clumsily, a fact that earned her a slightly disappointed frown from Cedric. However, she still managed to foil his feint, a fact which he could not begrudge her.
Still. Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy.
"I don't doubt you already know my critique for that particular block."
She retaliated with a thrust towards his chest, meanwhile twisting herself to the side to avoid a more direct strike towards the heart, as he'd warned her of after her last match with the Tiro.
He brought his blade up, parrying her attack by moving her blade slightly up and to the side, leaving her (hopefully) out of line. The edges of a rapier weren't really good for much, anyway--it was only the point that was actually sharp enough to pierce mail or behemoth hide, and slip between ribs or beneath scales.
Having her blade out of the way, he dove in for a textbook riposte, thrusting at her ribcage.
The Vetr then danced backwards, disengaging.
However, this time, instead of waiting for her to attack, he lunged once more, this time directing his blade at her leg.
Cedric didn't particularly feel like stopping, though.
At the end of his lunge, he sprung off his left leg and charged forward in a fleche, attempting to score a hit on Arnleif's midsection as he darted past, pivoting on the ball of his foot and regaining his stance on her other side.
He was purposefully not striking at her especially vulnerable places, or spots where it'd hurt to get hit such as her throat. Those were the obvious vulnerabilities, but things like legs... He'd make her fight kneeling on one leg to teach her how hard that was if he had to.
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Post by Zsasilda the Solitary on Jan 13, 2014 8:39:36 GMT
- - Masquerade, a mask of steel; winding life onto the reel - - You have to move the rapier back towards him, mistress!
Zsasilda swung her blade quickly, unable to prevent her opponent's practise sword from glancing off of her rib cage. She adjusted her stance, staring down the length of the blade, watching how he danced back and feeling Uri analyse Cedric Vyrrson's previous actions.
I need you to focus, Uri.
Apologies, mistress.
He's striking, mistress. Left leg!
She swung the blade, blocking him, gauging his reaction.
Mistress! Your torso.
Zsasilda attempted to bat his blade aside, almost managing it. Despite her original intention to study the Vetr, she was getting quite into this. It was sort of fun really, though immensely frustrating that he was landing so many blows.
She was almost laughing now.
Look at us, Uri. Getting all worked up over this little game. Why, if I really wanted, I could stay his blade with my magic!
Zsasilda gathered her wits and got into position and, the moment Vyrrson had regained his footing, she lunged. Imitating his previous move, but for the angle, she struck out and then pivoted at his left, finishing almost directing behind him
Mistress, in this form there is little you can do now.
Force of habit, I suppose.
She aimed at his head, swinging the weapon at it like an ordinary sword. While the point was far more effective at doing damage, the sharpened edge would surely still have some impact on an unprotected skull.
Tags: Cedric Vyrrson
Inspiration:
Notes: Don't worry, my reply sucks more. xD
Table made by Opal.
- - And playing back now, the scenes that you looked away from - - |
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Post by Cedric Vyrrson on Jan 15, 2014 13:12:06 GMT
Somehow, Arnleif seemed to relax once the sparring started.
He scored two hits, once per attack. His Tiro was, however, almost blocking him each time--a tribute to her expertise with a blade. She was certainly not bad, so far as apprentices went.
She retaliated swiftly, mimicking his fleche earlier but for a slight twist towards the end of the move. He brought up his blade, managing to parry the thrust to one side, re-angling his stance and disengaging slightly to face Arnleif at her new position and assuming once more his ready position.
The Vetr paused and waited for her attack.
She struck once more, bringing her blade down on his unprotected skull.
Big no-no.
His sword flashed up, moving with all the swiftness he could muster. In a combination of a coupe over and under, he circled his blade around hers and then pulled, using his slightly taller height as an advantage to attempt to twist her sword within (or out of) her grasp, if only as a warning.
Cedric stepped quickly to the side towards Arnleif's back, bringing his sword up in a carefully powered strike in an attempt to end with his blade's point at her throat. This was a point that had to be driven home.
"Don't ever do that with this type of blade," he spoke, voice dead serious for once.
"Rapiers are not meant for slicing or bludgeoning. It's hard enough to parry with them. In a fight, your blade will shatter, and you'll be left defenseless and quite probably dead."
It was true, any and all opponents the Drakonrhedi faced would not for one moment consider letting an unarmed enemy live. There was little honor in this world, and even less kindness.
No, she'd probably end up dead if she did that in a real battle.
| Tags: Zsasilda the SolitaryInspiration: As you can see from the quality of the post, I didn't have any. Notes: Yeah that failed sorry. |
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Post by Zsasilda the Solitary on Jan 16, 2014 9:51:14 GMT
- - Masquerade, a mask of steel; winding life onto the reel - - Zsasilda's practise blade clattered away across the deck, and she growled softly.
I doubt it would shatter, mistress.
I am aware, Uri. However, his sword is pressing into my throat in a most uncomfortable manner.
You are aware, of course, that you could probably manipulate said weapon away from you?
Of course. But remember, for whatever crazy reason, we are trying to make sure he doesn't know that.
She cleared her throat politely, though the words which followed contained a hint of snarkiness.
"Yes sir, sorry sir. I will try to remember that when I'm fighting for my life in close quarters."
His swordsmanship was impressive, she supposed; though she hadn't done all the research she could have on that particular subject. She would have to do so later- get Uri to collect intel from the other OAI. Zsasilda had to admit that Cedric Vyrrson's sudden seriousness took her a little off guard, and it was somewhat heartening to know people really did care about her life after all. Or, at least, her skills. One negative thing to be said about the Infinite was that, for the main part, she got the impression that they were only looking out for their own interests. The Exemplars were constantly testing their limits, expanding their influence, waiting for others to fall. Not that she was any different, of course. But it gave her something of a warm feeling to know that her life, or at least this manufactured one, might actually be a thing of concern to others.
You know that I have always considered your life my primary concern, don't you mistress?
Of course, Uri. I was merely thinking.
And then there were Exemplars like Lokotus, who clung on to threads of influence long outdated. Zsasilda was wary of that one, and she felt that Uri wasn't entirely fond of his OAI either. The Promenthaen felt that, perhaps more so than any of the others, Lokotus would do anything to keep his position.
Tags: Cedric Vyrrson
Inspiration: HAHA WHAT'S THAT?
Notes: RAMBLY ZSASI THOUGHTS WOOO I was distracted kay.
Table made by Opal.
- - And playing back now, the scenes that you looked away from - - |
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