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

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! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Koltira's eyes widen slightly. Though Keith's weapon is advanced technology, to Koltira's mind it looks like conjuring. Yet he senses no magic in Keith--or at least no threads strong enough for him to define.

He brandishes Byfrost, leveling it at Keith. ]

Leave that aside for now.

[ Koltira, too, feels that the best defense is a good offense. ]

Strike me.

[It occurs to him that Koltira is likely much better than the simulation that the Castle has built in, and that "striking him" was going to be much more difficult. After all, that's why he's giving these lessons, right?

Still, he's not someone to hold back without giving it all he has, so he takes up his sword in his hand and dives forward, trying to lunge at Koltira to do as he demands. His handling with his sword is sloppy, to say the least, like anyone with a good blade could parry it and knock it away easily.]

[ Koltira moves like lightning, with a speed that is clearly not natural. He parries the strike with enough force to perhaps knock Keith off of his feet, particularly if his defending stance was not solid enough.

Regardless, he makes no move to counterattack. He simply shakes his head. ]

You have conviction and purpose, but you lack form.

[ He holds out his hand. ]

Let me give you a more suitable opponent.

[ Shadows gather in his palm, and then flow down like a waterfall between his fingers, seeping into the earth. A moment later, the earth rumbles and shakes as something tears its way to the surface--long, wicked claws first, followed by a ghoulish, mostly skeletal head. The ghoul chatters incomprehensibly as it rises to its full height--not much taller than Keith himself--and grins a jack-o-lantern, sharp-toothed grin. ]

Yeah, this might be more my speed. [If nothing else, Keith is determined to push on forward with the determination of a battering ram. While he had been knocked down, he stands up swiftly, shaking off any pain that he has in his body quickly enough. He hurts, but not as much as he could.

It occurs to him that Koltira could've easily messed him up, but didn't. That's what makes him different from Zarkon.]

But I want to get good enough to hit you someday. [The words seem necessary. Clichéd, but necessary. (Keith doesn't know that it's a cliché.) As it is, he sweeps his sword back and strikes forward, slashing for the ghoul's midsection. Anything to keep it from grinning like that.]

I'm confident that you will.

[ The ghoul growls as Keith's sword slices into the exposed meat of its abdomen; chunks of skin and bone fall wetly to the ground in the wake of his strike. But the ghoul is not quickly beaten, and it seems mostly just pissed off. It counters, swiping at Keith with its long, yellow claws, going for what it perceives as an open spot on Keith's left side.

Koltira, for his part, only watches silently. ]

[Well, that's gross. Thankfully, it also makes it pretty clear that the ghoul is exactly what it looks like: super, super dead. Keith looks at it uncertainly, grimacing just because it looks gross.

And here he thought some of the aliens they fought were weird. This is nothing compared to that.

Of course, the grossness of it is what makes it easier for the ghoul to swipe in closely and strike him. He grimaces for a whole different reason, stumbling back with a grunt, and with renewed vigor, he strikes forward to stab right into the ghoul, trying to run it through with all his strength available.]

[ Keith handily impales the ghoul on his sword, and it stares at him with a gap-toothed, sunken-eyed, horror-comedy expression of surprise. Its torso separates from its hips, the shredded muscles sliding off of the bones whenever Keith withdraws. It collapses into a pile of meat and bone with one last irritated gurgle. ]

Good.

[ Koltira claps once. ]

I will create something more difficult next time. Ghouls are not known for their tactical minds.

Heh ... yeah, I'm pretty good at handling something that's not that difficult to stab. It's an easy target. [His form can use some work, though. That's likely the biggest problem, but he doesn't hold back and doesn't consider that.]

Are you able to make something more ... tactical? How does that work? [Would it be bad to kill it like that?]

It was. You strike with ferocity, and little more is needed versus a single ghoul.

[ Unholy magic swirls around Koltira's fingers as he turns his hand palm up, palm down, and back again. ]

I cannot create anything with true sentience, if that's what you mean. Not without a sentient body. Ghouls and wights and so forth--I conjure them from the dust and bones of the earth. They are simply constructs. But some are hardier than others.

But they uh—that is all they are, right? [While Keith may have a more vicious streak than most of the Voltrons, he's been forced to become more aware of it in recent history. He knows his limits, so setting them instead of realizing that he might want to set them after all, is generally a good idea.]

[ He jerks his head at the remains of the ghoul--it's already dissipating, turning to back to dust and tendrils of green magic. ]

Like an automaton made of flesh. There is no spirit or heart.

... That's good. [Relief isn't always palpable with Keith, but it is here.] I'm fighting a war back home, and I know what that entails. But ... I guess things here have changed it a bit.

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

i'm so sorry for the lateness of this!

no problem, you have your plot with him rn!

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