[ open ] swift as the coursing rain, with all the force of a great typhoon

[flashbanging]

CHARACTERS: McCree; Koltira; yOU
DATE: First few weeks post-arrival in Perdition's Rest
WARNINGS: somebody might hit somebody else
SUMMARY: TRAINING DAY(s)



MCCREE

[ McCree's set up near the northwestern border of the town. He's constructed a line of targets--six flour sacks tied to poles, facing the expanse of desert beyond--and he's spinning his revolvers in his good hand. He's got a mess of other guns piled on top of a nearby barrel, some borrowed from Riza Hawkeye, some purchased from the local munitions shop. Attached to the barrel is a sign:

SHARPSHOOTING
(OR HAND-TO-HAND)
HERE. ]

KOLTIRA

[ Koltira's on the southern outskirts. Anyone conducting business in the town proper can see him just beyond the edges of the last buildings, giant sword in hand, black coattails fluttering behind him as he paces. He has no targets, and no sign, either. He has the sword in his hand, the knives on his belt, and a scowling expression on his face. ]


[ OOC: TRAINING, with either Koltira or McCree. Obviously, totally separate from one another--I just combined the log so as not to spam the community needlessly. If no actual training was discussed on record, but you'd still like to have your character learn something, feel free to handwave that discussion.

McCree offers: sharpshooting; brawling.

Koltira offers: weapons training; magic if you're capable; hand-to-hand also.

McCree is a friendly and patient teacher.

Koltira is not.

Of course, if you'd just like to bother them while they are holding deadly weapons, that is also fine. Please comment to either subheader below for a custom starter! Please specify what you're here for! ]

Comments

[strikingtwice]

[/cracks knuckles]

[respired]

[ Koltira's leaning against a fence when Meallan approaches, drumming his fingers restlessly against the wood. He's not sure about this. He's not sure about any of these engagements, to be frank. They're risky, given how much pain he's in. Given how close he feels to the precipice of his madness. But he's convinced himself that there's merit in taking on students, in sparring and teaching. These sessions might not satisfy his curse, but they are a distraction.

Albeit a dangerous one. ]

What do you want of me, Meallan?

[ He eyes the other man. He can sense new magic in his body, likely a result of that fresh new arm Meallan's sporting. Koltira jerks his head towards it. ]

A test?

[strikingtwice]

[Where Koltira looks restless and on edge, Meallan seems more relaxed than he has in some time, the return of his arm taking a weight off of him that he hadn't realised he'd been carrying. He smiles and nods at the attention Koltira turns to it, but his gaze is fixed on the other's face. He can't help but wonder how much stress Koltira is under, how close he might actually be, and if this may help him as well.]

A test and to see what I can learn. I've no illusions that you'd likely be the better fighter up close. It seems like a good plan to try and work on my own skills at least a little.

[respired]

Up close?

[ Koltira raises an eyebrow. He's fairly sure he's the better fighter in literally any situation. He brandishes his sword, scowling. ]

Come on, then. See if you can hit me.

[strikingtwice]

Well you don't seem a mage, Koltira, and I've never seen you with a ranged weapon. [He points it out mildly, then shrugs.] But I could be wrong about that.

[Meallan grins then, pulling his staff from his back and wrapping golden fingers around it.]

Lets see how well both of us do, shall we?

[And with that he closes the distance, relying on the reach of his staff to try and get a few rapid hits in before Koltira might expect him to. For all his light mood, Meallan doesn't delude himself that the other elf won't mean business, so the blows aren't light or testing; though he equally isn't fighting as though his life is on the line. He trusts that it isn't that serious, unaware that it might be foolish to expect even that much.]

[respired]

[ Koltira's scowl turns to an outright growl of agitation. He's not wearing his armor, but that's an advantage in this case; as a result, his already agile steps are ridiculously fast. One might even call them unholy. He dodges the initial strikes; the last few come close, but Koltira parries with Byfrost. As he does so, the fire in his eyes blazes cold and intense--blue sparks hiss and dissipate in the air around him. ]

You have no idea what I am.

[ Runes skitter along Byfrost's surface, shifting in shape and color. Koltira darts behind Meallan as the runes shimmer a sickly green; he swings the sword in a rapid, tight arc, aiming at Meallan's knees, trying to knock the other man off of his feet. ]

[strikingtwice]

[Meallan's not really seen Koltira as he is now in combat before, and it occurs to him, as the other elf parries this attacks and moves with a speed that he struggles to follow, that it might have been a mistake to assume that using a blade meant normal limits applied to him.

He turns too slow to parry the blow and curses as the weight of the sword easily knocks him down. Pulling his staff with him, Meallan immediately makes to roll away from Koltira, hand rising to throw up a field of electricity around the other elf out of habit as he does so.]

[respired]

[ Koltira's eyes widen. So, you want to bring magic into the mix, huh? HUH?

A shield springs up around his body, an interlocking matrix of green, pulsing light that glows brightly as it absorbs the energy of Meallan's electricity spell. Koltira hisses as the runes on his sword change, turning icy blue. ]

I see.

[ He jumps back a step, then takes another swing, though not directly at Meallan himself. Ice follows in the wake of his strike, spiking up from the ground in a straight line and heading rapidly towards Meallan's position. ]

[strikingtwice]

[The magic had been instinctive, the result of years of relying on it, and Meallan means to apologise immediately. Except Koltira isn't giving him time to get his breath back or get a word out. He's barely gotten distance between them and to his feet when ice is spiking up in a line right for him, reminding him of some of Vivienne's attacks, and Meallan throws himself out of the way again.]

Creators, what have I gotten myself into...

[Still, he's not planning on giving up just yet and runs for Koltira, trying to close the distance again and bring his staff in to bear with a number of rapid, brutal attacks.]

[respired]

[ Despite his apparent confidence, Koltira's not one to underestimate his opponents. When he's got his right his mind--and he still has most of it, just now--he approaches combat with a ruthless, methodical calm. He knows that Meallan has magic, powerful magic, and it's clear to him also that Meallan is not entirely untrained in melee combat. That's obvious from both the way he moves and from the hard, corded sculpt of his muscles.

(Koltira tries not to linger too long on that last observation, on what Meallan might look like taken apart, moaning, bleeding --)

He parries the first few strikes, but Meallan's surprisingly relentless. Some of his hits connect, slamming hard against Koltira's unarmored chest. He winces, but he's grateful; this pain is different from what he's already enduring. It's useful. Focusing. He licks his lips and jumps back, his body twisting in a graceful flip. ]

Good. But.

[ He holds up a hand, and with his other one, he unbuttons his coat. ]

I will not ruin these clothes with such work. A moment.

[ He sheds the coat and the fine black velvet shirt beneath it, leaving him in just his pants and belt. He drapes his clothes over the fence, and then re-assumes his stance. ]

Again.

[strikingtwice]

[And just as suddenly as it had turned serious, Koltira stops and Meallan is left breathing heavily and a touch confused. Then he realises what the other elf is doing and straightens, letting out a huff of a laugh and setting aside his staff for a moment to do the same.]

A good point, I imagine if that's a taste of training with you, then I might end up losing my coat otherwise.

[And he's too attached to it for that too. Once both of them have set their clothing aside, Meallan gives Koltira a quick, apologetic look.]

I'm sorry about the magic, by the way. It was habit, otherwise I wouldn't have done it. I'll try to keep it down if you'd prefer.

[And true to his word, the moment his staff is back in hand Meallan relies on that instead, darting in close and trying to feint a similar attack to what he'd used before, but switching it to strike lower in an attempt to sweep Koltira off-balance.]