Swordplay

[Drache]

211/7/14

Drache was all broad smiles when she met Des at the tavern and escorted him around the lake and up the slope to her new home. It likely would have been a long trip, but the dragon-lady had a keen sense for game trails that made the trek quicker and less tiresome than it could have been. Unable to resist, she offered Des the chance to fly up there, grinning mischievously as she said it.

Outside of the tavern, with just him by her side, she came out of her shell and finally regaled him with tales of her past. Splendid adventures with a group of heroes that had been her friends. Occasions that she'd come up against beasts much more fearsome than she but still managed to emerge victorious. Battered and broken at times, but victorious. Towering volcanic golems, mad undead necromancers, seductive shape-changers and cunning demons. There had been wraiths and ghouls and bewitched machines, voyages to other planes and to other points in time, travels into the realm of her own dreams. She told him about her steady ascent to magical power, describing some of her favorite spells. The aloof, casual, and dispassionate descriptions were gone, replaced by a more wild and animated recollection.

If he had offered anything, she would have jumped at the chance to learn more of him too. The one thing she didn't discuss was her hoard, coyly promising that he would see it himself soon enough.

When they arrived at the foot of the cliff that boasted the entrance to her lair, Des would be able to see the small watchtower in its state of repair, tools and supplies stacked neatly about. Fred apparently had things well under way, but the workers were currently absent. The vaguely triangular entrance into the cliff face behind the building was visible as well.

The half-dragon paced around a flat, clear patch of land, double-checking that it was devoid of stone or hole that might turn their ankles or injure their legs, ending the sparring lesson between her and the bard on a less than savoury note.

Already dressed in the same studded leather armour as the day before, which looked decidedly plain on a creature so in love with her jewels and gold, all she was missing was a sword. Oh wait, there it was, materializing on her hip in a swirl of orange light that died after a moment. It was a the jewel-handled falchion, its wide blade curved back towards her tail.

She moved back towards the bard. "Are you ready to get ssstarted or did you want to ressst firssst? We can go inssside, or not." It was up to him either way, though she'd recommend post-poning lunch and wine until after the swordplay.

[Raven]

Descant would decline the offer of a quick flight up there. Oh no, he'd rather listen as finally, -finally-, she stopped frustrating him and finally gave way to actually telling him all the things that he'd actually want to hear in all the detail that he'd always wanted to hear it in. He'd be far too busy harassing her with questions for there to be much of an opportunity for the bard to offer back any of himself. He always seemed to deflect such questions away with an adeptness that was quite brilliant.

The watch tower, the entrance to her lair, even the place where they were to teach Des how to wield the sword, would all be studied most carefully. Hell, he'd remembered every winding path and step of the way that they'd taken to get here in the first place. One might be surprised at the sheer amount of things that the bard managed to keep rolling about in his memory.

He'd be rather cheery about the fact that soon he was likely going to get his butt handed to him. His travelling duster, all beaten and travel worn as it was, would be removed and placed on top of the satchel he'd lugged around. She'd told him to bring a spare set of clothing. Plus he had some other stuff to give to her once they'd finished their swordplay. Beneath the duster he wore a rather boring set of black clothing and his usual sable gloves. The purple bound dagger, wherever he'd kept that, would be set down as well. He was here to learn the sword after all.

"Most well get started."

That would leave the bard standing there, ready to go, with the sword she'd given him previously riding at his side. Arms briefly held out in an expansive 'guide me' type of gesture, waiting for her instruction.

[Drache]

Drache allowed herself to be deflected when it came to asking questions of him, but there was a look in her eyes when he did so that left no doubt that she wouldn't be stimmied forever. Not if they were to remain friends and share trust. But if all things went well, there would be time later.

She waited patiently for him to pile up his belongings and then moved to stand in front of him, her taloned feet spread in a fighting stance, tail weaving sinuously behind her. She gave him a dazzling grin, and then became businesslike.

"Well, firssst things firssst, I sssuppose. You need to draw your sssword and learn to hold it. It will be heavy at firssst until your arms get used to the weight. Go ahead. Take it out and give it a few ssswings. Sstand with your feet at shoulder-width."

[Raven]

Descant didn't typically need to go out of his way to keep his secrets. People just didn't seem to question him that closely when it came to anything. He certainly wasn't the type to divulge. Likely she'd start to pry his secrets from him eventually.

That was neither here nor there, this was all about learning how to use the sword she'd given him. At her direction he'd unsheath the blade, trying a few swings with his left hand. A moment of considering and then he'd try with his right hand. Didn't seem to make too much difference to him. So he'd offer a shrug to her.

"Which hand should I use?"

[Drache]

The dragoness literally growled in pleasure, watching the gleam of the sword arc through the air.

"Both, of courssse. Unlesss you want to be a typical lopsssided fleshling. Under me, you will train with both hands. That way, an injury to one wont leave you helplesss."

She moved close to him, lifting his arm and checking to make sure his fingers were arranged properly around the sabre's particular grip.

"Thisss protectsss your fingers if sssomeone ssslides their blade down yours, and it will give you and edge on controlling the weapon. " She frowned slightly. "These lesssons may prove harsh to your gloves unlesss they are more than sssimple sssuede." She made no mention of him removing them, aware that there it was a very private issue, and just left it at that.

"Now, let'sss dissscusss blocking attacksss. If you can keep your enemy at bay long enough, she may jussst wear herssself out with little effort on your part." She unsheathed her sword as she moved back in front of him and raised it vertically in front of her face, the back of the blade pressing against the front of her snout. The cutting edge shone white for a moment, dulled with a quick cantrip. She didn't bewitch his the same way, though she didn't say why.

"There are sssix basssic attacksss, and therefore sssix main ways to block." Raising her sword slowly with one hand, though it should have been a two-handed blade, and bringing it down towards his face, she said, "Thisss is one attack, ssstraight at your head. Mossst fools with a blade prefer thisss one. You block me by raising your sssword like thisss." She tilted her blade parallel to the ground and raised it high, conscious of the height of her own horns. "It mussst be high enough or your foe will ssstill cut you."

"You try." She lowered her sword until it pointed at the ground in a ready position and then brought it up again, arcing it slowly down towards his face.

[Raven]

Descant would shrug, left hand, right hand, both. He had no preference and if she wanted him to learn with both then he'd acquiesce to her demands.

"Both is fine."

The bard would move as directed, accept her modifications to his grip and there'd be a quick smile at the mention of his gloved hands. He wasn't concerned with any wear and tear that might occur. It's not like he didn't pack a couple spare pairs. Since there wasn't any further words from her about it, he wouldn't make an issue of it either. Instead waiting for her next line of instruction.

Hazel eyes would be intent upon her, studying her motions, listening to her words and when it came time for him to perform the action he'd do it exactly as she had demonstrated. Sabre to meet her curved blade and deflect it as she'd shown only moments before. Either she was making this too easy for him so far, he had previous experience with a sword or he was merely adept at mimickry.

Having completed that particular motion, he'd fall back to his original ready position with the corrections she'd previously made. The bard would watch her expectantly, infinitely patient and attentive. Wordlessly waiting for further instruction or correction.

[Drache]

The half-dragon brought the sword down in a fluid motion, letting the blades clang gently together. She slid her falchion to the tip of the sabre and pushed, testing the stiffness of his wrist.

"Yesss. Do not let your wrissst flop or a hard ssstrike will knock it from your grasssp. You should always try to block a hit clossser to the cccenter of your blade than to the point. Now here are two more attacksss, ssslashing down acrossss your body from the right or left." She demonstrated, tilting her blade to either side as she pantomimed, drawing the blade across him in a big X, but not touching him.

"You would block me like thisss..." And so it continued until she had showed him them all, the next up being lower blows towards the legs, finishing with the center thrust to the belly. It was not fast-paced at all, and she took the time to correct him if she saw something wrong with his posture, or his grip, or anything else. Her criticisms were neither mocking nor cajoling, but simply matter-of-fact. Despite her insistence of the contrary, so far she was playing the part of teacher well.

"Now I will try to ssstrike you without warning you which attack is coming and I want you to block me. Ssspeed is not important, feeling the motion is. Ready?"

[Raven]

Descant, for his part, would be a perfect student. Criticism would be taken in stride, adjustments incorporated and everything demonstrated would be mirrored in turn. Not that the speed at which she was teaching him would exactly make it very taxing upon the bard. So far she'd be the easiest teacher he'd studied under, which might be a compliment or might not depending upon how one felt about that sort of thing.

At her query on whether he was ready he'd swiftly fall into stance. Breaking his silence thus far with only a brief affirmative reply. While he had not been impatient, the promise of things actually speeding up appeared to bring some newfound zest to the bard's demeanour. Hazel eyes intent upon her form for an entirely new reason.

[Drache]

Drache had never had a student before, especially not for something that wasn't an area of extreme expertise for her. The slow pace simply reflected how serious she was when it came to laying down a solid base of skill for the Bard. It was quite clear that she could have laid him down in the dirt a dozen different ways, but it wouldn't have taught him anything except that she was a bad teacher.

She grinned briefly at his enthusiasm and flourished her blade. and then struck at him, cutting down from left to right across his torso. Her attacks were perfectly measured, quick enough to make him work but slow enough to give him the time to respond while maintaining proper form. As he got the hang of it, she pressed him, moving quicker. The blades barely touched each time they met before she moved on to the next strike.

"Lift with your shoulder and your back, not jussst your arm." Her ability to pinpoint how he was using his body was uncanny.

After he'd managed to keep up with her at her set pace for a while, she twirled her falchion to her other hand.

"Ssswitch."

[Raven]

Block. Block. Block. Some might grow bored or complacent with endless repetition. He lapped it up. Learning things by rote had been one of the things his previous teacher had impressed upon him firmly. For a fellow who apparently spent so much time lazing about in the Dagger drinking wine and eating sparingly, he certainly didn't appear overly taxed by all the physical work he was being pushed through.

Aww. Just as he'd started to get comfortable with his right, now she wanted him to switch to his left. Made sense. Sabre would be bounced from one hand to the other and while the temptation to do so in a suitably theatric way was definitely there. He stifled it. He very much doubted Drache would be impressed with him showing off while she was teaching him.

Instead he'd content himself with a few quick slashes of the air to reacquaint himself with the feel of the blade in the opposite hand and then he'd be ready to go once more. Indicating for her to continue now that he was ready.

[Drache]

Drache changed up the pattern as often as she dared, sticking to the basic swings she had shown him, but striking randomly. She wanted him to be able to switch to any position from any other position fluidly. She increased the speed of her strokes gradually, as well as the power behind them, watching for any sign of flagging. A lesson left incomplete because she tired her pupil out ahead of schedule was a poor lesson.

There would be time for theatrics, but not now. If he had skill enough to show off he had skill enough to not need her as a tutor, which would have come as a hurtful and confusing revelation.

When they had been going for an equal length of time to the first set, she switched her sword to the other hand but did not ask him to do the same. She continued to strike, now using the opposite hand. Then she would have them switch again so they were using opposite hands on the other side.

It would take time for all four sets to be completed while the summer morning faded into the hot afternoon, and when they were she stepped back to eye him critically. "How do you feel? Would you like to continue? Ressst and continue later? Or finish for the day?"

[Raven]

If the bard had been proficent with the blade before he'd met her, he would've had to have been disgustingly adept at it's usage to consciously deceive her all morning. Lack of skill at fighting, however, did not mean that he couldn't be flashy with the sword. Especially now that he had a working knowledge of it's weight, balance and reach. Time and a place for everything though.

The most flair he'd put into the whole thing is twirling it about before sliding it back into it's scabbard as she'd step away.

"I'm fine, though that's probably my limit for the day."

Not that there'd be any indication for -why- he'd be happy to stop there. He certainly didn't appear to be flagging even under the summer's sun. Either way, at the cessation of the training he'd move over to his assorted gear. Unlacing and removing that black shirt of his along the way. Beneath his loose fitting clothing, it'd appear that the bard was unsurprisingly lithe.

What might be surprising is the faint white scars that lined the tanned skin of his back. How he'd managed that would likely be a story for another time. Unfortunately for her, it wouldn't take the bard long to finish digging about his pack and to be pulling on a sky blue shirt as he'd straighten back up and turn back to her. Much more acceptable of a colour for such a hot day. His gloves had also been changed out while he'd rummaged around. Another secret kept.

"I believe you mentioned something about food and wine, though." And there'd be that roguish grin of his.

[Drache]

The half-breed nodded to herself and sunk her falchion into its scabbard with a curt jerk. She affected a polite bow towards the Bard and watched him walk away, eyeing the flex and pull of his muscles, scars and all, as he pulled off his shirt. If a look of longing came into her eyes, or if her tail twitched huffily at the tease, he would be facing the wrong way to see it.

Her own change of clothing took much longer as she shimmied out of the studded leather armour. It was an unfortunate complication when it came to curving claws and fiddly leather fasteners. With her back to him, she was shortly wearing nothing but a black linen bandeau and a thong shaped to accommodate her tail. From a pouch in the pile of leather at her feet she withdrew a length of emerald green cloth. It was fine, soft, flowing, and decidedly expensive. She draped it around her neck and arranged the trailing edge so that it spread out around her frame, covering the important parts but not leaving much to the imagination. Not that she ever really worried about that. Her pouched belt secured the sarong, which fell only to mid-thigh. The discared clothing faded away with an ember-like glimmer and she finally turned.

"Of courssse. It'sss waiting inssside." She gestured a wing-tip towards the entrance in the cliffside. "Bring your things if you want to come."

[Raven]

Descant teasing? Never! This time it was even true, it -was- a matter of practicality. The young fellow would content himself with watching her and waiting patiently. The benefit of not having a current patron or any meaningful work meant that he had a disgusting amount of time to burn on a daily basis. No wonder he spent so much of it gracing the Dagger with his presence. Of course, eventually she would be finished and inviting him once he collected all his gear.

That 'borrowed' dagger would be the first thing that'd disappear to wherever he had taken to keeping it. The of sleight of hand wasn't deliberate, it was an entirely unconscious habit. A bad habit. It showed a certain air of familiarity that the bard likely didn't want attached to his name. Duster would be bundled up and shoved into his pack and then the whole lot would be slung over his shoulder. There.

"Lead away, M'Lady Drache."

[Drache]

It was only a short distance up the gently sloping ground to the rocky sheer rocky wall. Trees grew right up to the edge here, which put the dark passage in shadow. Their trek took them right past the in-process tower. Barricaded by fresh logs and random debris from the renovations in a makeshift paddock was Kira's horse. The mowhawked equine whickered nervously and trotted to the other side of it when the half-dragon passed.

While the ground outside sloped gently downwards towards the distant lake, the tunnel inside sloped downwards towards the not-so-distant darkness. There were no burning torches to lead their way, and Drache looked askance at Des as though considering leading him down there in the dark. But what she actually did was summon a fist-sized globe of magefire, which hovered above and slightly in front of them as Drache moved into the earth. It gleamed with a soft white light that would make it possible for Des to walk without stumbling in the dark.

The path was not terribly long, but it was dangerous, though Descant might not have realized how dangerous at the time. It wasn't a straight shot. There were several tunnels that branched off of this one, which didn't always appear to be a main pathway itself. More than once, the half-dragon came to a stop and disabled some magical trap or alarm. Not all of them would be obvious, and sometimes the creep of magic crawled across their flesh without doing anything at all. Even if Des remembered every twist and turn, trying to come back unaided would be nearly suicidal. As they continued down into the darkness, it became very warm and dry.

Drache was not very talkative during the time it took to get down there, but she didn't seem unhappy. In fact, she seemed almost smug. She eventually lead the bard through what appeared to be nothing but a sheer wall into a cavern with a roaring fire in an alcove off to the side. There were beautiful wall hangings dangling from the raw stone walls, as well as furs and the occasional trinket. A large oaken table with half a score of chairs seated around it boasted their meal, which was primarily rabbit and venison (cooked for him, raw for her), raw wild fruits and nuts picked from the bountiful surrounding land, and some fresh bread. There were also two bottles of Derry red and glasses to accompany them. On the far end of the table, a pile of crossbow parts was scattered about, partnered by an ash tray with several cigar butts and empty bottles of rum.

"Welcome to my home, Descant."

The small vaguely round cavern was cosy, and while reasonably lavish with places to sit and interesting things to look at, it had the feeling of a vestibule or waiting area. There didn't seem to be any way out of the room except where they had come in, which was back to looking like nothing more than a stone wall. This couldn't be all, could it?

Drache picked up her meat and wine and moved near to the fire where there sat a large chaise lounge draped in black furs. Slowly and with a sinuous grace, she lowered herself to the furniture and rested the food in front of her. She used a flick of her black claw to indicate a lush armchair across from her.

"Please come and sssit and tell me what you think." She watched him intently. Her tail curled and flopped back.