fandomhighdorms | The Salle, Thursday Morning

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The Salle, Thursday Morning

James attacked.

His rapier parted the air as he worked his way through a modified training regimen, blending the traditional attack and parry forms learned from Arutha and his swordmaster with the kata of Baru Serpentslayer, and even a few tips from the brothers at Sarth.

Moving at a speed that made his muscles burn, James worked on his attacks. His 'bump of trouble' twinged whenever he was near a certain shop in towwn; if need be, he would be prepared.

He paused, sword point down, to wipe the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his new tee shirt. He would be ready.

[Open/establishy!]

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Triela hadn't been back to the salle since she'd stopped training with Leto. Normally that would just mean she didn't come back, but for some reason she was feeling nostalgic. Or... something.

Whatever.

She stopped by, and smiled slightly when she spotted her little sibling. Having not really talked to him since he arrived, she felt a bit like she'd failed in her duty, but he seemed alive, and not too crazy from the culture shock. That was good.

No crazier than normal, at least. He waved at his Big Sibling with his free hand. "I miss this," he said, gesturing to the room and to the sword in his other hand.

He grinned. "Simple. You, sword, movements. Much better than classes."

"It seems like it would be less interesting alone." Triela knew that there's only so much enjoyment to be derived from practice, after all. At least for her.

"Fancy a spar?" he asked, pointing to the wooden swords in the corner.

Triela eyed the blades, then shrugged ever so slightly. "I'm not very experienced with swords." The fact that she could admit that said a lot about how much she'd changed since she arrived on the island.

"Excellent. Maybe I won't be shown up too badly," he said with a grin. "Just from stories, I may be the weakest person on the island."

He winked at her. "Pointy end goes into the other guy," he teased.

"I know how to use a blade," Triela rolled her eyes. She was just used to shorter blades. Still, she picked up a practice blade and hefted it, trying to find its balance.

James carefully put the rapier up and chose a sword, looking for the lightest of a similar bunch.

"Have you had training before?" he asked.

"Knives." And guns, explosives, and hand-to-hand, but that wasn't relevant here.

"Ah," he said with a smile. "Knives. Picture a knife, longer, further balance, bigger hilt. Further reach, further away from the enemy. Bigger, meatier, slower, but when you give it enough swing, will cut and penetrate deeper."

His voice had a bit of a dark tone to it.

"Makes sense," Triela decided. She hefted the practice blade and frowned at it. "It's not as maneuverable, though." And that made her scowl.

"Give up speed and maneuverability for strenth and damage. Fair trade," he stated, whipping his practice sword around with amazing speed...for a nonaugmented human.

"There are advantages to that." Triela favored the shotgun for a reason, after all. Well, a number of them, but one of them was raw damage.

She straightened, holding the blade casually. "When you're ready, then."

James smiled, and assumed a basic attack stance, lunging forward for a slow (for him) attack, easy to parry or dodge.

Triela brought her blade up in a parry, pushing James' blade away and stepping forward hard in an attempt to ram him with her shoulder.

That worked a lot better with a knife since you had to be closer to strike, as it was she had a few feet to cover before she could make contact.

James turned backward with the attack, expecting her to overbalance as she performed the follow-through. In theory.

She wasn't a novice.

Instead of over-balancing, Triela dropped her center of gravity slightly and picked up speed. It was a risky response, since it pushed her center even farther forward, but if she could make contact it would hit hard.

She had potential. He pivoted, trying to get her to flip her over his hip, like a judo throw. If successful.

He was grinning the whole time.

The pivot took him out of line with her charge, and Triela stumbled as she hit his hip. Fortunately she'd lowered her hips enough to keep herself from going over completely.

Which didn't mean she was in anything like a good position to counter any attacks.

James aimed a light attack at her exposed back, nothing more than a swat, easily blocked if she recovered.

If not, he was overextended himself.

Triela's enhancements meant she was, barely, fast enough to spin around and block that swat in time. She scowled and took two long steps back to open up some breathing room.

"You're fast," he stated. "As fast as I am, or thereabouts. or more. How much training have you had?"

"I've been working with blades for about two years now." And she was willing to bet she was faster than he was. Cybernetics meant she was faster than most people.

She probably was. "Swords for three, knives before that. You're good." It was a compliment.

Triela didn't take compliments all that well, so she simply shrugged it away. "I've got a few advantages," she told him, swinging her practice blade through a simple arc.

"Most people do." He grinned. "Shall we go again?"

"Sure." She followed her words with a quick stop-thrust at his stomach, not giving him time to set himself.

That earned a grin and a grunt as James put his off hand on his stomach, remembering old wounds. He launched off an attack, aiming for her sword arm. It's possible that if he landed a blow, she might drop the sword. For a normal person, at least.

[Getting a bite to eat, will be a bit slow if phone works!]

Triela was over-extended, so his blow landed nearly perfectly. Except that under the heavy impact of his strike, Triela's pain receptors shut down. So there was no need to drop anything.

Instead she spun, taking some of the force of James' blow to drive slash at his leg.

That stung. He half-stepped back, driving his sword at her gut straight on.

This time she was still balanced. Triela's free hand swung out to bat the blade aside. If it were actually sharp that would have cut her, but as it was it gave her an opening to attempt another slash at his knee.

"I like my knees," he grunted, using his off hand to try and shove her off balance as he aimed for her knees this time.

That shove was enough to keep her from closing the distance, but not enough to send her down. Triela raised one booted foot and kicked at his incoming blade as hard as she could.

Which really screwed up her balance.

Eyes narrowed, James lunged forward to try to knock her off balance with his shoulder. She was good.

Her balance was off enough that the shoulder ram sent her over. But her hands were quick and Triela dropped her practice blade to grab at James' collar with both hands and heaved backward, trying to make sure that she didn't go down alone.

James landed on his back and rolled to his feet, grinning. She was very good.

"I think we forgot the swords," he pointed out, holding his down to the floor, panting slightly. "I do not think it matters, though."

[Calling it a night for me! More sp?]

"Sometimes they get in the way," Triela pointed out as she snapped to her feet in a quick motion. She didn't move to pick hers up again.

[Works for me!]

He grinned. "But the extra reach is nice. We should make this a regular habit."

Triela shrugged noncommittally. Maybe.

"Swords don't come up too often in my line of work." But it probably wouldn't hurt to practice.

"It could have benefits," he pointed out.

"Such as?" Not that she couldn't think of a few on her own, but she was curious as to how he might answer.

He grinned, darkly. "Suppose all you have is a stick. Or a chair leg. Or the other guy has a club, or crowbar. Not the same, but the techniques are. Parry, stay outside the reach or get inside where he can't move. Redirect. Keep moving. Don't get hit."

"I'd prefer to have a knife, or simply go barehanded, in such a situation." She was comfortable with those, and had spent quite a bit of time becoming so.

Still, he wasn't wrong.

"If that's your strength, play to it." He shrugged. "Me? I'd rather have a few feet of steel in my hand than a knife or knuckles up against a goblin or moredhel," he stated, using the name for the murderous dark elves.

"Well, I'd rather have a gun," Triela pointed out.

"If I knew what that was, so might I," he stated. He cocked his head. "That's the hand-wand with the loud noise?" He had seen another student using one.

[bedtime for me!]

"I suppose that's one way to put it," Triela said with a slow smile. "I think our next little meeting should be on the range. I'll show you."

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The Salle, Thursday Morning

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