(121-04-08) Practice Swords at Dawn
Practice Swords at Dawn
Summary: In which Tameron Sand and Magden Quick spar in the wee hours of the morning.
Date: April 10, 2014
Related: Stable

It's still dark, though technically morning, when Ser Tameron and his squire meet in the garden for sparring. It's a rainy and hot, but that hardly makes the exercise impossible. Just a little more challenging. Magden rose early, had her light breakfast, and has found herself a variety of suitable practice weaponry, well-balanced but blunted. It wouldn't do to actually spill any blood today. She's limbering up, drilling sword forms, when he arrives — a slow, steady, and exquisitely controlled dance. Water dancing, they call it. Only, in this instance, the water is from the sky.

Tameron arrives shortly after Magden, having pulled himself out of the couple hours of sleep he managed. The rain doesn't seem to bother him, nor the heat (Dornish, after all), as he steps out into the garden to find Magden putting herself through her paces. He considers, walking closer as he asks, "you fight in the braavosi style?"

"I fight in whatever style wins," says Magden, twisting and slicing her blade in a controlled, horizontal arc. She flips the blade around and tucks it neatly into the baldric. She's barefoot, as she was the night before, and her drenched shirt clings like a second skin. "I never learned one style over another — just a lot of tricks. I had to adapt what worked for large, powerful men into something more… compact. More often than not."

Tameron nods, glances over at Madgen's very wet clothing and then quickly down at her feet. "Boots," he instructs, "and leather armor. Best get used to wearing both."

Magden pushes her soaking hair back from her face and sighs. "Fine." She brushes by him as goes to collect the requested gear, her arm touching his in passing. Just for a moment.

Tameron stands very still for that brush and then steps away to tug on his own light armor and consider the practice weapons available. He chooses one of the wider blades, hefting it in his hand and giving it a turn before he nods.

She's managed to get more than a few things out to the garden, so the choices are good, even for her. The armor that fits her once belonged to a page who rapidly outgrew it, so it's barely seen use. It does leave her neatly bound up in leather, which is oddly fetching, despite that it whittles her miniscule curves down to zero. Where before in rags, she looked… raggedy… and in her street clothes she looked, more or less, like a child playing dress up in her older brother's clothes, in armor she looks dangerous. If one were to allow for danger to be very, very small.

Tameron lifts a hand to push damp hair from his eyes as he regards Magden. A corner of his mouth lifts and he gives a small nod. "Good," he approves softly, "you keep that armor. Fits you well. Choose your weapon, let us see your skill."

Magden draws the slender longblade from the baldric at her hip, choosing a shorter, thrusting blade for the other hand. She nods, beginning to pace a slow circle around him. Like a stalking cat. Truly, she has a bent for the theatrical.

Tameron smiles faintly and holds his ground, only turning a little as Magden continues to circle. Less theatrical, it seems. More about efficiency.

It takes a few long moments, Magden eyeing his stance and grip, assessing, before she moves. When she does it's quick, feinting with the thrusting blade as the longsword comes down in an arc, aiming to take out a leg.

<COMBAT> Magden attacks Tameron with Twin Swords - Light wound to Left Leg (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Tameron attacks Magden with Broadsword and MISSES!

It's a good opening move, and perhaps Tameron didn't expect her to strike quite so quickly. His sword moves to block Madgen's blades and while he manages to stop one, the other sweeps down in a solid rap against his leg. He makes a small, low noise of that and gives a small nod.

She's as quick to react as she is to attack, leaning back, almost bending backward, to avoid his counterstrike. She flashes a feral smile, twirls her blades, and crooks a finger.

<COMBAT> Magden attacks Tameron with Twin Swords - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Tameron attacks Magden with Broadsword - Serious wound to Right Hand (Reduced by Armor).

Tameron arches a brow and surges forward. He doesn't have her lightness or her showmanship. There's no twirling or twisting for an unseen audience. But his blade moves with speed and confidence, succeeding in accuracy what it lacks in flare. He tilts his body so the leather of his armor can deflect the swish of her smaller, thinner blades, and his own smacks at Madgen's wrist and knuckles, hard enough to make fingers tingle.

A little success makes her cocky — too cocky, in this case. And she's not expecting such a pointedly schoolroom rebuke. Her hand goes numb for an instant and her longblade falls from her dead fingers. She steps back, quick and light, toward the weapon racks, keeping him sharp in her sights. The thrusting blade is cast aside in favor of her old friend, the long staff. It twirls twice, cutting the air with a whistle, before she steps in to attack again.

<COMBAT> Magden attacks Tameron with Cudgel and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Tameron attacks Magden with Broadsword - Light wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).

Tameron steps back and waits as Magden shakes her hand back to wakefulness and chooses her next weapon, but he's ready when she swings. He ducks beneath the cudgel and then uses the extension of her arms to sneak his sword past them, and giving a small jab to her leather jerkin.

"Ow!" cries Magden with an indignant laugh. She flexes her rebuked right hand as the feeling begins to return from the earlier strike. Her feet continue to move, carrying her away from Tameron and around again. She tucks the staff quickly under her arm and sweeps it upward toward his chin.

<COMBAT> Tameron attacks Magden with Broadsword - Light wound to Abdomen (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Magden attacks Tameron with Cudgel and MISSES!

Yikes! Tameron's eyes widen for a second as he realizes where she's aiming that staff, and he leans out of the way just in time for it to hiss past his ear. Again, he uses the reach of her arms to sneak in another poke, this time to her belly.

Bugger this! The staff is cast aside again as soon as she's sure of her right hand. Back to blades. Pretty, pretty blades. She's breathing hard and clearly in some discomfort from the poking and thwapping she'd taken. It's put her right out of sorts, it has. She keeps her longer blade free and at play to deflect any more incoming blows while darting in to deliver a poke of her own with the thrusting blade.

<COMBAT> Tameron attacks Magden with Broadsword and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Magden attacks Tameron with Twin Swords - ARMOR on Abdomen stops the attack!

Tameron's silent as Magden changes her weapons again, and this time, he's preemptive. But too much so. His blade meets only air and Magden's swords jab at his belly, though the leather of his armor guards him from any discomfort. "Better," he approves.

Magden huffs, looking annoyed. "This isn't how I'm used to fighting." But she keeps up her guard now, and stays doggedly in the game.

<COMBAT> Tameron attacks Magden with Broadsword - Light wound to Left Hand (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Magden attacks Tameron with Twin Swords - ARMOR on Chest stops the attack!

"It shows," Tameron replies. He learns from his last mistake, and this swing whacks Magden's hand again (though more gently this time) even as her blades scape against the leather of his jerkin again. "How are you used to fighting?"

She yelps — however less incapacitating that blow to the hand, it stings. "For — " Magden begins, keeping her distance as the tingles wear off and her grip steadies. She tosses her head flicking wet hair out of her face. "Against brutes with less finesse," she finally replies, stepping in with another feint and sweep.

<COMBAT> Tameron attacks Magden with Broadsword - Moderate wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Magden attacks Tameron with Twin Swords - Light wound to Left Arm (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Magden has been KO'd!

"Large and slow," Tameron supposes before demonstrating that he is neither. He lunges forward and jabs his blade firmly against Madgen's leather jerkin, though he gets a nice little bruise to his left arm during the strike.

That's a killing blow and Magden recognizes it, stopping and looking down at the blade pressed to her chest. Sighs and tosses her blades aside with a clatter. "Large and slow," she agrees. "Chosen to suit me, I guess. And it seems you were right… I have no place beside you on the field. Not by right of skill, anyhow."

"Not yet," Tameron agrees, though gently, as he sets his own sword aside. "You are used to fighting for show. Life and death, yes, but life and death as entertainment. A knight's battlefield… or a woman warrior's… is different. It is those differences you must seek to master, now."

She rolls her shoulders back and goes to put right all the weapons she's taken up and cast aside. "I didn't always wear armor, either. Not until… I was better known." She places the practice blades on the weapon rack. "Sometimes, they'd dress me in the clothes of a Westerosi great lady. Say I was being fed to the lions for adultery, or some nonsense." She trails her fingers over the edge of a halbred, examining the weapons. "A few times, I was a greenling — some captured forest spirit — and I'd be covered in flowers and leaves."

"Whatever story most appealed for the night," Tameron agrees, colelcting his own practice blade and carrying it over to set it with the others. A corner of his mouth quirks. "There are moments, I'm not sure you aren't a greenling, even without the flowers."

Magden's lips quirk, as well, though her lashes remain lowered, eyes steadfast on the design of a pommel. There might be a dart of a glance his way, though. Shy and hummingbird quick. "So… teach me, then, Tameron Sand."

"Tis what I have sworn to do," Tameron agrees with a flicker of a smile. He plucks up the practice blade and nods. "We'll go again, more slowly. Weed out the flare of your moves from the necessary." He moves away from the cluster of weapons, holding his own at the ready. And so it goes for much of the morning, until the sun hangs high above them and lunch is announced.

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