[The Storm Shrine] A Peculiar Dance (Solo)

[Marcus Dymez]

41st Day of Summer, 512 A.V. Marcus stood atop the foothills, waiting patiently for his new mentor. The Martial Association had arranged for an expert of sword-fighting to help him through the basics, and as Marcus roughly swung his wooden longsword around, his mind wandered to what kind of person would show up to greet him. Marcus was not a weak man, but ever since his enrollment in the University, he had shirked off a lot of his routine exercises. This was not his first time with a sword either; as an adolescent, he had once participated in a tournament, placing third in his class, and he had enjoyed it immensely. His attention however was not as convinced, and quickly moved on in the heat of youth. Moving back to the present, Marcus remembered that this hardwood sword supposedly carried more weight than a steel one, purposefully designed so that the transition results in easier control of the razor-sharp weapon. Marcus stood firm to test this fact, legs locked, as he swung his training weapon in huge vertical slashes, his arms unaccustomed to the momentum. Thud, Thud, Thud, echoed the ground before him, each swing going straight into the grassy hill. Marcus furrowed his brow as his efforts were wasted; his arms simply couldn't stop the swords forceful motion with his wrists and elbows locked. He concentrated on the various groups of muscles, relaxing and stiffening them almost at random as he swung. The sight was... peculiar, but somewhat enlightening. With each swing, Marcus fine-tuned his control, relearning old habits, and at the very least managed to keep his sword from wavering in his strikes. One thought quickly crossed his mind as a foreigner invaded his mind, Ow. His mental focus, as well as his balance, was swiftly thrown off by the prodding of a second sword in his back. Marcus stumbled forward, careful not to fall on his sword (Good habit to learn), to the sound of deep-toned laughter. Class was now in session. Marcus regained his balance, and turned to face his new mentor. Saelen Mensat was the name he was given, but Marcus had not received a single other detail. The man was apparently a sailor of some sort, his skin dark from constant work in the sun, but with features quite foreign. Unbeknownst to the young student however, Saelen was a pirate, coming in from Sunberth to lay low after things became 'uncomfortable' for him. Undergoing a new life, the swashbuckling ship captain joined the Association in order to pass on his skills, and perhaps find some new recruits for his crew. Looking over the casually dressed scholar before him, he couldn't help but smirk. With an elaborate bow, he introduced himself. "Saelen Mensat, at your service. I shall be your mentor from this point forward." He spoke with a foreign accent that slurred his words smoothly into each-other, a fluid way of speaking to match his fluid swordplay. Smirking to the novice in front of him, Saelen chuckled, thinking aloud, "This should be quite an... endeavour..." Marcus nodded to the dark-skinned man, introducing himself in turn with the most professional tone he could muster. "The name is Marcus Callus. It is a pleasure to learn under you... Sir?" Marcus was uncertain of the formality of the situation, but he took the laughter afterwards as a definitive answer to his question. Looking to show he is a man of sport, Marcus smirked to him as he laid the sword over his shoulder. "You caught me off-guard there earlier, but next time won't be so easy." Saelen's reaction was not as expected however, as he glared back at him with a grim gaze, a smirk of his own emblazoned across his face. "Off-guard you say? Excuses. One should always be alert, but don't let that make you into one of 'dose stoic guard types. You should be flexible in your fighting." Marcus took his words seriously, as his mind re-evaluated his new mentor. He took his art seriously, and with an excited dedication, Marcus brought his sword up, eager to learn from a man who loved what he did. And in something so intricately physical, Marcus felt there was only one appropriate way to learn. "Show me."

[Marcus Dymez]

Marcus had just encouraged a pirate captain and master swordsman to come at him, and it would've done the young student a service to have thought that decision over somewhat. Taking a precarious stance, Saelen poised himself a couple feet away from Marcus, who still stood in a sturdy guard pose. Holding his sword straight towards the mage, Saelen's smirk was unsettling, his weapon hovering at eye-level, with his legs ready to pounce at a moment's notice. Quicker than expected, Saelen lunged forward, a wide swing accompanying his step as Saelen twists his wrist to send the sword on a large arc towards the target. Marcus' reflexes were not poor, but his quick thinking was exactly as it sounded; quick thinking. The thoughts had trouble getting to the rest of his body in time, which was why he was currently about to be struck by a wooded saber. Luckily, Marcus' middle-guard did not require much motion to adjust, and he brought his weapon to his left to hold back the strike, catching it before it caught him. Eager to not make a fool of himself on their first spar, Marcus brainstormed how to counterattack; A dozen text-book examples rushing through his mind without the means to execute them. He did not have time to contemplate the issue, and deciding to use the physical to guide him instead of the mystical, he pressed on the deadlocking pair of weapons, effortlessly breaking the stalemate with his two-handed sword. He smirked to himself as he prepared to press the opening, before suddenly realizing why he had suddenly felt such ease. That was when Marcus learned lesson #1: Always control your momentum. Saelen anticipated his motions flawlessly, and as the deadlock was pressed, his saber withdrew swiftly. The hilt of his weapon was pulled back to his right hip as the blade pointed to the ground, Saelen slowly watching the novice swordsman before him continue forward with the force of his blade. This master of combat acted moment by moment, and he would do his best to whip this whelp into shape. Saelen brought his weapon over to his left, sweeping low across his body before pulling it up above his shoulder, the crossing of his right arm preparing for a large sweep of his saber. With a calm and fluid swing, this maestro let loose his blade, which slapped against Marcus' cotton shirt with a solid hit. Marcus regained his composure, as well as his balance, as he smirked back to the man, the wooden sword shifting in his hands as he adjusted for its weight. The old basics were back, and Marcus was now ready to learn some new tricks for this interesting art. He disregarded the sensation in the middle of his back, ready to continue the spar as his mentor spoke. "Too slow, Too hard, and Too stupid. Your form is terrible, and you have no sense of momentum. You're off to a good start, my pawn. Go ahead and test your offense." Saelen matched Marcus' curious smirk with his own, slowly growing to like this scholar, who he had assumed would've whined and called it a day after getting hit a single time. Things were looking up, and the pair readied for another bout. Saelen set himself into a peculiar-seeming stance, his saber in a low-guard pointed at the ground in front of him. Marcus was more than eager to show him what dedication brewed within him, and it only took two words to spark the second round. "Show me."

[Marcus Dymez]

Marcus came at the master swordsman without a moment's hesitation, his legs swiftly sprinting forward to close the distance. This was not a bull-rush, as much as it seemed, and the young scholar carefully laid out his plan in his mind, using the spatial sense he honed from reimancy to guide him through his actions. His only advantage in this fight was his mind, and he planned to use it, knowledge or not. This would prove only to accentuate his true weakness; over-speculation. His foot made a thump on the grassy hill as he charged forward. It was all so clear in his head; Marcus would charge forward, sword held up above his head. He would start a downward slash, forcing his more skilled opponent to bring up his weapon for an easy parry. This would be when Marcus would show his feint, his left foot pressing out to give him a base as he pulled his sword downward, towards his left side. Using the close proximity, Marcus reasoned his opponent would not be able to block his two-handed strike with a parry from below, and with a great slash to the upper-right, Marcus could claim this round. Another step closer to his opponent, whose stance remained as firm as the trunk of a tree. Marcus rehearsed the motions in his head, his mind passing the script to his muscles in a sort of briefing. He smirked to himself as his short and simple plan, thinking it to be quite thorough, but there were variables still unaccounted for. Textbooks and diagrams were all fine and dandy when dealing with the theoretical, but when it came to the experimental, experience was key, and Marcus' experience was capped at a twelve-year-old sparring tournament. Regardless, his dedication pressed him forward, his smirk gleaming in his charge, as he finally got within range of his opponent. The wooden longsword was let loose, expecting to be faced with a matching wooden saber. Once again Marcus prepared himself for the actions to come; the feint, the step, the sweep, and the slash. Speed would be key, but he hoped to use the momentum (See, he was learning), to swing his sword swiftly. His entire being was thrown into the scene before him, his body filled with adrenaline as he found himself thrilled and completely in the moment. He saw the saber come up, parrying at a slant in true expert technique, and Marcus' arms checked into full-gear, diverting his own sword to the left, and preparing for his masterfully-placed slash that would end this round. But his opponent was not where he should have been, Marcus having overstepped for the sweep, and now firmly to his right, the novice fighter knew his slash would not connect. Hoping to salvage the situation, he prepared to turn, pulling his right foot back to give him space, but Saelen had other plans. Taking his saber, the ex-pirate captain hooked his wooden sword behind Marcus' right calf, anticipating a futile attempt to save himself, and swept his leg out from under him. For a practiced mercenary, this was a simple shift of balance, but for Marcus, this was game over, as the saber came back to lay a solid hit against his solar plexus, pulling the keystone from his foundation. Suddenly, the world became blurred by motion as he fell backwards. A loud crash to the ground followed soon after, Marcus laying down on the ground, his chest heaving as his eyes squinted from the impact. His voice came out between heavy breaths as he laid on his back, looking up at his mentor. "It was such a perfect plan though..." Marcus chuckled, deciding to remain there for a few moments as his body ran diagnostics and rebooted. His mentor simply looked down with his devilish grin and shook his head, saber at his side. "Planning in a fight is not the same as planning elsewhere. But I will share with you the secret of this art, and consider this Lesson #2, my magical friend. Sword-fighting consists of three simple concepts, the initial attack on someone, how one decides to disregard said attack, and how one decides to counter and strike back. The equation is simply Attack, Nullify, and Counter. If you can master this, you will never lose a fight in your life." Extending a hand to his student, Saelen flashed a brief smile, giving a small trinket of praise amidst the rough lesson. "At the very least, you had a plan though." Marcus got himself up and stretched out for a moment, eager for one last bout. "You're quick on your feet, that's for sure. Once more." His rough white shirt was damp with sweat, but the breeze rolling through the hills was soothing to his exposed arms. With a nod from his mentor, who had a few more words to give but was likewise eager to demonstrate, the pair backed up a few paces, eager to have one last showdown. Words were not necessary this time around, the fire in Marcus' emerald orbs matched by Saelen's calm cerulean, and in an instant the area became disturbed once more, the pair charging at each other. I have my own tricks, pirate.

[Marcus Dymez]

Marcus was ready for him this time, and planned to take into account his sword's disadvantage in speed. Not only that, but Marcus was slowly adjusting the streams of his Djed, preparing for an interesting riposte. He was careful not to divert too much Djed just yet, lest he end up faltering in his motions, but he kept the flowing streams in his mind, ready to press out a small ejection of res from his arms. Swiftly managing his footwork, Marcus began to circle his opponent, who mirrored his action. There were no grins or smirks this time; both men carrying a warrior's expression, their souls poured into their blades, no matter how wooden they were. Marcus concentrated, allowing himself to calm as the fight began and his over-active mind went to work. Downward slash coming in from the upper-right. Parry, deflecting to the right and side-step to the left. Counter with an upward slash coming from the bottom right. Use opening from his block to step in, closing the distanc- Stop. Bring sword back vertically and press to the right to conduct a hard-block against new counterattack. Shuffling Back-step. Side-step to the right to avoid vertical slash, and bring sword to the lef- No, Right. Parry downward and to the left. Quickly, press opening with stab to the chest. No, footwork off, pull back sword and raise to block. Excellent... And so continued the fight for a few minutes, Marcus continually pressed into defense by superior maneuvering and tactics on the part of his mentor. Still he held his ground, and it seemed so far that both men were at a stalemate. That is, until Saelen broke the solemn calm with his characteristic devilish grin, and Marcus knew this was the time he had been preparing for. Immediately, Marcus saw the error that provided Saelen with such satisfaction, as the magician overestimated the reach of his stance, and had already set into a slash that could not reach his opponent. Saelen had quickly stepped to the left in order to avoid any chance of contact, and set into a critical slash aimed right for Marcus' lower back. Marcus simply smiled over to the man as he glanced at him, his grip on the sword slowly faltering as he began to turn it towards the experienced swordsman. Believing him to be a fool, accepting his defeat, Saelen pressed his attack, eager to show a man to surrender. In reality, Marcus was conducting the most brilliant feint. The momentary weakness in his grip was actually a wide-spread phenomena, as the wizard concentrated producing faint pockets of Djed in his left arm. He had been slowly producing these amounts of res during his slash, using the swing of his arm to disperse the gas enough to go without his opponents notice. But it was done. With an intense burst of will, Marcus condensed the res into a tight cylinder of condensed liquid, shaping it hastily without concern for uniformity or thickness. There was no time to think and sculpt, and quickly Marcus propelled the ethereal matter straight towards the swordsman, his own longsword now swinging towards his opponent. Hastily transmuting the rough pile into water, the liquid crashed onto the man's face with the force of the Suvan, completely breaking his balance and orientation. However, Marcus had underestimated how quick his opponent was, and his sword's momentum had only a short distance to connect; too short for the whiplash of the wave of water to come into play. And so Marcus took a leap of faith on his body's coordination with one final push. He brought his left foot up to his right as his sword came into climax of it's arc. The terrible stance and the momentum of his two-handed swing meant there would be no balance for a counter-attack, and so this would be his last hurrah. The loss of his eye-sight combined with the unexpected crash of water to the head had crippled the meant that Saelen could not adapt however, and with a slap of wood to the left side of his back, Marcus laughed, the pirate's own chuckle coming out to join him. After some time given to recover, the two stood shaking hands atop the hill overlooking the city. Marcus had a playful grin, his enjoyment of the day obvious, and he spoke with words just as playful. "I would've imagined you being better at handling water, captain." He was met only with a shake of the head and a small chuckle, as his mentor turned his back and started walking without a word. Marcus contemplated for a moment that perhaps he had offended him by his cheating, and thought that he may have assumed incorrectly about how he handled rules. That is, he thought that until the grizzled sailor turned to him and and smirked genuinely, at which point Marcus knew he would be seeing him again. Marcus knew quite well what the third lesson of the day was, without any words, and made his way back to the University with a wooden sword over his shoulder, eager for a shower and a bed. Physical fighting was tiring, but in a different sense than magic, and it was one Marcus was not used to. Regardless, he found himself absorbed in the art of it to the extent only Reimancy had been able to provide, and there would be no leaving this by the wayside. If only there was a more fluid longsword out there... Marcus would have to do more research at a later date, but as for now he simply reflected on the lessons of the day, and smiled to himself; curiosity sated, for now. Lesson #3: Fight with your entire being.

[Arcane]

Rewards and Treasure! Experience Points +4 Weapon: Long Sword +2 Observation +1 Reimancy Lores Saelen Mensat the Martial Association Mentor (Swordsmanship) Importance of Flexibility in Combat Swordsmanship Lesson #1: Always Control Your Momentum Swordsmanship Lesson #2: Attack, Nullify, Counter Swordsmanship Lesson #3: Fight With Your Entire Being Zeltiva: The Storm Shrine Miscellaneous None. Comments I have discussed this with you, but will still post it here for transparency: Saelan Mensat is - game mechanics-wise - a Competent-level NPC. Still, I find the fact that you bothered to explain his motivations and background interesting, and I'd like for you to actually develop him into a proper and usable NPC. Good job on the intense descriptions; I can really imagine it happening in my mind. Thank you for providing a lengthened glimpse into Marcus' mind while fighting - this is as important to me as what is happening in the material world as well. Keep up this combo of physical and emotional descriptions in your writing