Downsizing

[Moon Jae-Seong]

TIMESTAMP: Cinderfall 7, Ash 123
NOTES: -

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Receiving correspondence from one Imogen Ward was unexpected, but far from unwelcome. Her missive was both polite and concise, with one primary point: a request. Said request was a simple one; she wished to pursue swordsmanship techniques using blades not quite as large as that which she was used to working with.

Jae-Seong's response was similar in tone when detailing his agreement, postmarked as had been instructed within. He included what availabilities he had that coincided with her own and further listed an address where she would most likely find him. In his mind, it was strange to have a more permanent address over which he had actual ownership, but there was, indeed, an undeniable convenience to it.

Shortly after the new Shokaze had been coronated, the mercenary had wanted to take his leave of the city– his kin, however, bid him to stay. The bargaining chip they used in order to convince him was granting him property sequestered up in the mountains, far from the bustle of the city itself but not all that far from the palace and certainly closer than many of the locations where he'd often find himself wandering off to. It was here that he'd written Imogen could find him, and while the mountains would be somewhat arduous for most to trek through, the witch was a resourceful one and possessed Animus to boot– she had to have a shape that flew, no?

And so on the day they'd agreed upon, the swordsman sat on the far edge of the dock that overlooked the small lake near which the manor had been built. He was fishing, though it was catch and release; the lake wasn't overlarge, and he had little desire to thin what population of fish it did have. He was, after all, fishing for amusement, not sustenance. Unless she approached from the opposite side of the house itself, he'd be easy to see from most angles.

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'Thoughts'

"SynskritTongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Inandoth Tongue/Speech"

[Imogen]

Imogen Ward had now spent several months' worth of time in the Jeweled City of the North. Far from being the starry-eyed tourist two years prior, she was a seasoned explorer of these parts, canny to all the little tricks of the map and knowledgeable of who to seek directions from. She left early, too; nothing to chance, no sir. Not all the hosts of demons in the hells below were going to throw her off track, not this time. All her will and effort bent to the task of arriving at Moon's address...

...got her there about two hours late.

Well, it wasn't as though they'd agreed upon a precise time, exactly. But it was about two hours later than she had meant to arrive, and that's the long and short of things. She trudged out of the woods, nearly collapsing to her knees with relief to see the little lake and manor, looking just as advertised.



"Whoo," The witch let out a low whistle, "Now that is cute."

It wasn't huge by the standards of the southern manors, especially not in terms of Zaecheri countryside estates, but it was at least three stories by her reckoning. Like many of the nicer houses of the Kalzasaern style, it was plainly built for elegance rather than defensibility- probably because of the protection provided by the Synnekar, she imagined. Perhaps southern styles would have featured less fortification and more ornamentation if they, too, had legions of flying mage-warriors to guard them.

It took her only a moment to scan the grounds and spot Moon. By the standards of the city, he wasn't dressed up. By the standards of pretty much everywhere else she'd ever been, however, even casual clothes here were a production. In any event, his features were unmistakable from any distance.

Imogen herself was wearing very utilitarian garb, commissioned especially to fit a range of humanoid shapes from Ork to Hytori to Human without requiring undue adjustment, tearing or growing unwieldy. It wasn't magic, though; if she had changed into a bird and crossed the lake, she would have needed to leave it behind. It did have back slits which would accommodate an Avialae's wings, but she hadn't had the time to find a proper totem for that just yet. Thankfully, she had other options.

The witch stepped sideways into Slipspace, the veil betwixt the worlds deforming around her body like the meniscus of a pool of molasses. Given the short distance, she passed through the space between spaces for only the fraction of an instant, but that was time enough for her to feel the strange chill of the void- not a phenomenon of temperature, but more like goosebumps. The heebie-jeebies.

She stepped out onto the dock near Moon. Most of the Railrunners she'd known had preferred techniques which hid their use of the magic, aiming for shadows, rounding corners, or simply timing their emergence to appear or disappear in the span of an instant. But Traversion wasn't illegal in Kalzasi, and so she simply let her body shift out of the air, as though she were walking through some invisible door.

"Mr. Jae-Seong," the Ork said, "As I live and breathe, you do live somewhere- you're not just wandering about the countryside. And your Saebyeog is quite lovely, innit?"

In their previous meetings, Imogen had worn a human form, mostly because she hadn't had any clothes which fit. But it was important to learn a weapon in one's own skin, in her experience, so she came now as an Orkhan. Runty for her race, but still more-or-less standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Moon all the same.

"Sorry if you've been waiting. I've many talents, but reading maps... sadly, not among them at all. Plus, I wanted to stop and pick this up on the way." The Ork raised her right hand with a small flourish, producing an oval portal in the air. She reached in with the other hand, and deftly withdrew a longsword.

It was not a fancy one. The last time she'd been in Kalzasi, she'd spent some time learning where the city's common soldiery brought their weapons, and paid a visit there to commission a basic sword a week prior. It was solid work, but not spectacular; exactly the thing her uncle had always advised her to buy.

"It's very light, but I think I can come to adjust to that." She'd gotten a lot of practice using her sword in a variety of shapes, with a variety of strengths, and had become much better at dealing with changes in weight. "But I confess that the reach concerns me. I think my reflexes are going to do me more harm than good with such a short blade."

[Moon Jae-Seong]

TIMESTAMP: -
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Properly gauging the passage of time had been rendered significantly more difficult a task ever since the world had been drenched in the darkness of the eclipse. And for one Moon Jae-Seong, fishing was meditative– he often found himself losing a great many hours to it. He knew not precisely when Imogen intended to arrive, nor what time it was at all, but he possessed plentiful patience and was distracted well enough not to mind.

The mercenary donned pleated umanori hakama over kimono, the two garments appearing to have been tailored to match one another. To him, this was function over form, but the fine fabric was carefully dyed in pale pastels and a discerning eye would note that it was an expensive, reinforced sort of weave meant for a balance between moveability and durability. To many, this could easily pass as formal wear.

Imogen’s emergence from Slipspace was signaled by a shift in the air as the atmosphere warped and tore. The only thing he had time to do, however, was wheel around and look at the emerging figure, fast as she had arrived. At first, he stared in cautious confusion at the Orkhan woman that stood before him; this wasn’t a face he recognized. Her words, however, were familiar and he quickly connected the dots. This was Imogen?

He’d let her finish speaking, his face amiable, if a bit incredulous.

“This was recently acquired, actually– it’s never been a habit of mine to stay in one place, but…I don’t mind it up here. It really is lovely, as you say," he began with a wan smile.

“And no need to apologize. I’m in no rush,” he’d continue, granting her an encouraging sort of nod.

Her referring to a standard longsword as ‘short’ had made him breath out a laugh. “I take it you don’t have experience with short swords or daggers, either, then? But regardless, you can make up for the reach deficit with speed.”

After he said that, he’d shift in position, reeling in his line and moving to both stand and place the rod on a nearby rack. Having done that, he turned back to face his companion, crossing his arms over his chest.

Eying the single blade, “...you want to learn to wield one or two at once? I can teach you both, but personally, I specialize in two.”

Jae-Seong paused, sucking in a breath. “And is this your true shape? Or perhaps something else?” He couldn’t help but ask, his words laced in curiosity.

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'Thoughts'

"Synskrit Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Inandoth Tongue/Speech"

[Imogen]

"This is what I've mostly used." Imogen waved a flippant hand at the end of the pier, and her Pact sword materialized, floating serenely above the water. It was an enormous weapon, seven feet long, though a fifth of it was hilt, and devoid of decoration. It was utilitarian to the point of strangeness; even a cheaply-commissioned sword of this size would be apt to have a design on the tang or pommel, perhaps some ornamentation on the hilt, but Imogen's weapon was utterly devoid of extraneous characters or symbolism. Still, it certainly looked like it could kill a man in a single blow.

"Trained by my uncle," the Ork said, "The style of sword isn't common to Ecith, but the size of it is. He employs a style, you see, which emphasizes the natural advantages of an Orkhan. Size and strength, obviously--I can swing that pretty fast--but there's also something which isn't well-known...

Imogen raised a bare arm, all smooth green skin marked by faint scaling, and clenched her fist. In the span of an instant, her limb seemed to shift, muscle becoming more defined, somewhat more elongated, and the entire length covered in glittering opal scales, like an iridescent koi. The scales broke the light around the dock like a prism, surrounding the two in a momentary halo of rainbow light before the witch relaxed, letting the scales sublimate into her skin.

"Doesn't always stop a sword, but definitely blunts it. So you adopt stances with intentional weaknesses, only when your opponent goes to exploit them, turns out it wasn't much of a weakness and they're out of position to dodge or block that. " Imogen hooked a thumb towards the floating blade.

It was the second style she'd been trained in, and it had certainly served her well. It was the sort of thing which worked best one-on-one, but a key aspect of Reaving was that you seldom needed to focus on too many other combatants. Two or three dancing weapons were sufficient to keep a dozen soldiers busy.

In fact, she supposed that was actually the last style she'd learned which hadn't been created with Reaving in mind. The Rune changed the entire experience of combat, and understanding precisely how it did so was key to making it work. A master swordsman could win duels with other individuals, even with small groups. A master Reaver... come to think of it, Imogen wasn't at all sure how many duelists she could take. Probably depended on too many factors for any general answer.

Her explanation was probably sufficient to answer the man's second question, but she addressed it anyway: "I don't like the phrase 'true shape'. Truth is whatever reflects the world as it is; when the world changes, so does truth. I say this not to lecture, but simply to note than a user of Animus needs to be concerned with self-mastery in every shape. If I practice exclusively in the form of an Orkhan, then it will help me little if a threat emerges while in human guise."

"But this is the shape I was born to, yes. Grandparents came to Karnor just before the invasion of Ecith in order to-" Imogen paused, but she supposed her Order's big secret was out, at this point, given what had happened a few months back. "-guard the sword Novuril, and other such things. But that's all in other hands." She sounded dismissive, but it was an earnest comment. Guarding the relic had been a temporary measure until Arcas' return. Now that he was returned, it was no longer their concern.

"One or two swords?" The ork sounded surprised, as if she hadn't even considered the matter, "I hadn't thought to commission two. I suppose once I form a Pact, it would be easy enough to make duplicates. Do you find the second helps?"

[Moon Jae-Seong]

TIMESTAMP: -
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As his guest summoned a gargantuan sword from the aether, Jae-Seong’s eyes set upon the rather…utilitarian blade that now floated almost daintily above the water. His brow would raise ever so slightly, but otherwise his expression would remain fairly neutral. Refraining from comment for now, he’d listen as Imogen began her description of what weaponry she was used to using.

Through her explanation, though, the mercenary found his gaze drawn to Imogen herself– apparently, the fighting style she engaged with most was reckless, reliant upon an Orkhan’s natural defenses. He eyed her with interest; such a notion was…very far from how he fought. If he had the strength to wield such a blade, he might’ve asked her to teach him in return, but such a thing did not suit him.

To her words, he would nod. “That sort of style is…not popular here, no; I’d love to see it in action, though– sounds interesting.” He kept his commentary brief, allowing for her to continue and answer his other questions.

In response to her explanation about both her own nature and her relationship with Animus, he’d grant her appreciative looking half-smile. “I suppose I neglected to think of it like that– but you’re right. For myself, even, I view each of my own shapes as equally ‘true,’ so to speak.” he breathed out something that might be construed as a laugh. “I’ve not the diverse portfolio practitioners of Animus tend to have, but my Rathari blood leaves me three to shift between.”

The mention of Novuril had him intrigued for a moment. Given his relationship with House Novalys, he had his own ties with the Dawnmartyrs– he’d learned of the sword's recovery.

“Novuril– it’s been recovered, has it not? It was placed into the hands of a prolific Dawnmartyr, so I’ve heard. Sometimes, I’m tempted to journey to Ailos, see what’s left of the Dawnmartyrs in Ecith,” he mused.

“I wonder if word of the modern Arcas’ new settlement has spread to them.” Jae-Seong was curious about how such older branches of the order would feel about that, given that to his knowledge, Talon as Arcas had yet to visit them since his apotheosis.

However, when Imogen questioned him in response to his own final question, he almost laughed– but he suppressed it. She sounded earnest.

“Ah– I always use two, yes. I fight like a dervish, treating bladework like a windblown dance; the style was built ‘round paired blades. I suppose I wouldn’t be entirely lost with only one, but…if you’re intent on using one, there’s a few others that live here alongside me that specialize in single-blade techniques; I could fetch one if you’d like. One more of a knight, the other a duelist.” He’d say in explanation alongside the offer of getting the others. The two of which he spoke were under his employ, but he viewed them more as friends and companions than anything else.

From where he stood, however, he’d uncross his arms to hold them out by his sides, posture relaxed, palms open. Glimmering aether, much like what Imogen had used earlier, bloomed into bright, brilliant existence before rapidly taking the shape of twinned blades, one in each of the man’s hands. His swords both appeared to be masterfully crafted, each blade slightly curved, with their quality apparent right away from the texture of the steel. They did lack ornamentation by the standards of most Kalzasern blades, but their hilts still possessed a sleek sort of elegance, wrapped in the same sort of pastel cloth he often wore. Once they’d been summoned, he’d flip his wrists and shift his grip in swift, smooth motion such that the blades themselves pointed behind him, away from Imogen.

“I commissioned these two to be partnered blades; the intention’s always been to never use one without the other.” he added with a soft sort of smile.

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'Thoughts'

"Synskrit Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Inandoth Tongue/Speech"

[Imogen]

"I'll demonstrate the style if the opportunity arises," Imogen assured Moon, "Unfortunately, it's ill-suited for dueling. Very difficult to avoid serious injury to at least one of the duelists."

The Sunsinger wasn't the least concerned about injury to herself in that fashion; Animus had only increased her options for avoiding harm in an exchange. The problem with the style was that the return strikes were not easy to pull. Either she would end up demonstrating a defanged and toothless art, or she would end up shattering the other duelist's ribcage. Risks were inevitable in the sports of war, but some risks were pointlessly great.

"Mmm, yes, Laveriel." Saying the elf's name brought her face to mind- absolutely composed, a picture of determination. "I don't know her well, but I'm sure her god's trust isn't without reason. She did knock out an elder dragon, you know. Biggest monster I've ever seen, and you may trust that this is a high bar to clear." Frankly, Imogen wasn't at all confident that she'd ever see anything larger. They just couldn't keep getting bigger... could they?

Jae's next words brought a tiny, sarcastic laugh to Imogen's lips. She could still picture, in her mind's eye, the moment when Arcas had raised the sword and drowned the world in silver, when his miraculous citadel had simply transposed itself upon the world.

"Can't speak for the Dawnmartyrs, but I did see Dawnhold's summoning. I imagine anyone in the world with the Emblem must have felt the shift in reality. Not that I know that for sure; I've always taken payment from demigods in more tangible forms. As for the old City of the Dawn... do you know, I've been to Ecith pretty regularly, but I've never found the time to go look at the ruins? I'd like to get around to that someday, when things settle down. Everyone says it was spectacular, before the war."

"I wonder if it was conjured by divine will, as Dawnhold was? I've never heard so, but I'm not much of a historian myself. Plus, the Dawnmartyrs were known for being a bit tight-lipped about that sort of thing." Imogen shrugged, dismissing the whole train of thought. The witch had spent her entire life dismissing her own useless and unanswerable questions, after all.

She stepped closer as Moon materialized his twin blades, eyeing them momentarily. Pretty, but not ostentatious; a good sign. They were curved, rather than straight, but the difference didn't bother her much. She was relatively certain that the length and weight were close matches, which meant that smaller details could be adjusted later.

It was an interesting question. Dual wielding styles were unpopular in Ecith largely because a warrior was expected to tousle with creatures of superlative size, and would therefore require superior stopping power from a large and heavy weapon. She was confident in her abilities in such styles. On the other hand, dual wielding was unpopular in Zaichaer because the traditional infantry--before the age of the caster shell, anyway--was always armed with a shield, to deflect the inevitable arrows of the foe. Imogen had a shield, but she didn't need an arm to use it, so did wielding a single smaller weapon offer any advantages?

Moon had described his companions as a knight and a duelist. The concept of a "knight" was very familiar to her, as pervasive in southern lore, and she understood them as using single-handed weapons for the same reason as the Zaicheri infantry. Meanwhile, though duels were fun to watch, the restraints which governed them were largely local and ceremonial. Becoming a master fencer would not, in the main, improve her understanding of the art of killing.

No, on the whole, it seemed the usual reasons to eschew a second weapon did not apply.

"I think I have the most to learn from this 'dervish' style of which you speak," she said, at last, "It is the furthest away from the edges of my present skill, and therefore most sensible to focus on. Can you demonstrate it for me?"

[Moon Jae-Seong]

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Friendly sparring when making use of heavier weaponry was always much harder to do if one wanted to avoid injury; one can blunt the sharpness of a blade, but no matter how blunt that behemoth of a sword Imogen had summoned was, sapping the weight from the blows would be a different matter entirely.

“Ill-suited for sparring especially with the likes of me, too, I’d imagine– though I am of mixed blood, my Rathari traits are most dominant, and perhaps there’s influence from the Avialae in me as well, here? But, regardless, I’ve less bone density than most men. I fly easier, move quicker, but am notably more fragile; hence my reliance on speed and agility.” Jae-Seong imagined a strike from particularly large weaponry would be devastating, but he wasn’t keen to test that theory.

When Imogen spoke of Laveriel, the nobleman nodded; he knew her name, but wasn’t acquainted. “She and I have never met; I am no Dawnmartyr myself. My connections are all adjacent, but I do know when and where to listen. I am intrigued, though; you were there?” He canted his head, his interest clearly piqued. “You’ll have to tell me about that sometime.”

The look on his companion’s face at the mention of Dawnhold caught his interest, too– he noted the nuance of it, but couldn’t quite place why she might express that way.

“...and about that, too. I saw the lights, felt it in the elements when it happened, though I was not near enough to see much. But I’m with you. Such…profound ties to gods do not interest me. I already share blood with one; that’s enough for me,” he’d say with a breath of wry laughter.

The swordsman could see the appeal. The connection would draw both faithful and power hungry alike, but…he was always wary of tethers in all their forms.

“But about Ailos’ origins? To my understanding, the city was erected alongside Raxen’s Orcani followers– whether it was built by the mortal hands of Dawnmartyr and Orkhan alike or made manifest per their patrons’ divinity, I cannot say.” He’d appear thoughtful at the notion.

"I hate to impose, but–...perhaps if you return to Ecith and visit Ailos, I could journey with you? I've...never been to Ecith. I would appreciate making such a sojourn alongside somebody familiar with the territory." He made this request speaking in a fashion that was almost overly polite.

After summoning his own blades and giving Imogen the other options for fighting styles should she wish, her response was to select his preferred style. Much as he would not have minded had she chosen differently, he was nevertheless happy with her preference; it was, in a way, flattering, sentimental as his swordsmanship was to him.

Jae-Seong would nod, a wan smile on his lips. “I would be happy to, but I’ll need a bit more space than this dock provides. Come.”

With that, he’d gesture for her to follow and make his way back towards the manse itself. The dock was west of the house, and the two would make their way along the shore then along the western wall as they made their way to the back of the building. While they walked, it would be easy for Imogen to notice how meticulously manicured all of the foliage was, and that much of the flora spread throughout plot and planter were species one might consider exotic even for Kalzasi. Whoever Jae-Seong had as a horticulturist clearly cared quite a bit about their craft.

Behind the manor, however, they’d find a clearing– it was a good size field for sparring with well kept grounds, flat and free of debris. Leaving Imogen at the border of it, the swordsman would make his way to the center. He began by taking a deep breath, holding his left sword upright in front of him and the right held horizontal at the back of his neck. As he shifted forward, the right hand struck downwards in front of him and the left moved to strike behind simultaneously. Continuing this motion, the left sword would lift in an arc over his head striking forward and down as the right sword moved back. At first, his movements were controlled, slow, demonstrative so Imogen could easily see exactly how his body moved.

The mercenary would repeat this simple strike motion a few times, quicker with each repetition, before shifting to something else– bringing his left arm across his chest with the blade beneath his right arm, he’d arc the blade in his right hand in a wide, circular motion pushing forward before striking again, his left hand striking behind him in a tandem motion. His arms created whorls and loops in the air, his posture opening and closing in increasingly rapid cycles. As he continued, he’d vary his strikes, diversify his stances, some with both blades thrust forward, others with wider stances and blades swung in more open arcs.

He’d deliberately demonstrate techniques that were suited to close quarters dueling, exhibiting an array of strikes both thrusting forward and spinning the blades in more spiraling frontal patterns before progressing into wider, whirling patterns suited to fighting multiple opponents at all angles; the latter were most akin to the ‘dervish’ descriptor he’d used earlier. Many of his movements resembled the unfurling petals of a flower in bloom, many more swirling and windswept, but all performed with a dancer’s grace, an acrobat’s alacrity and a warrior’s precision.

The longer he’d continue any strike pattern, the faster he would move, incorporating more complicated footwork alongside his bladework, leaping into the air at points before slowing down again to show something new. His intent was to show her basic steps, then building upon them to exemplify what could be done after practice in a variety of ways. And when he finally slowed to a stop, he’d bow– it was a habit, something he more or less did, at this point, in honor of both the amount of time he’d dedicated to his craft and those that had instructed him.

Looking to Imogen, “What do you think? And where do you think a good start point for you would be?”

She was an experienced warrior, but per her own admission, his style was far from her own– almost completely foreign. He wasn’t sure how much of what she knew was translatable.

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'Thoughts'

"Synskrit Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Inandoth Tongue/Speech"

[Imogen]

"Oh, sure, been a lot of places." Imogen replied, "I travel a lot myself, run into all sorts."

Flippant, but true. The witch hadn't really sought out most of the strange encounters she'd had, just sort of stumbled across them. Not really the way the coven preferred to find business, but she'd found enough jobs in the last year that they could hardly reprimand her. Depending on how the last two big contracts turned out, maybe they'd even promote her. She hoped not; it had taken a lot of hard work to make sure they kept her in the field with relatively few duties.

"Well, I've no objection at all to showing you around." she answered, cautious, "But travel could be tricky. My usual methods don't admit of passengers, and I'm not nearly practiced enough at portals to open one between continents. Mmm, haven't you got some famed mages in the city, though? Might be one of them could help with that..."

Imogen's portal work had gotten a lot better, but that was on the scale of opening a portal between neighboring towns, or across the length of a mountain. Now, Windows, those she was quite good with. Between here and Drathera would still be a stretch, but it was in the right realm, anyway. Still, her clients from Kalzasi had often spoken of he almighty magics of House Briathos. Perhaps they could whisk Moon there in the blink of an eye?

She followed the noble swordsman through the well-kempt grounds, glancing from side to side at the dizzying variety of plants on display. Imogen was no botanist, nor even an alchemist, to her mother's great disappointment, but she recognized the work which had gone into the whole project. Moon lived... not humbly, but without ostentation, but the details bespoke a lot of money. He had just mentioned his relationship to a god. Talon, she presumed.

What was the name of the ex-Prince's house? Novalis? Novulus? A weird coincidence, that it should play host to the reincarnation of the next master of the nova. Another pointless thought to push aside.

At any rate, Moon certainly didn't much resemble his... cousin? Talon was enormous, absurdly muscled for his breed, and with a bulky face. Moon, for all his talk of being Rathari, was much more like Imogen's mental image of avialae. Perhaps it wasn't a bond of blood, or only a very distant one? Perhaps divinity had altered the one's body more than she'd expected? Who could say?

All these ponderings left her as they reached the dueling field and Moon began demonstrating his stances. As he'd promised, he was fast. He was very fast, actually. The exercises he cycled through spun more and more quickly, clearly attempting to show her the details of each movement before demonstrating the strike at full speed. Still, as the movements grew more and more complex, she found it increasingly difficult to keep track.

So she invoked Animus and slowed her mind, quickening her perception. She watched as each footstep led into a flurry of strikes, following the line of motion through Moon's upper body. Where the zweihander relied upon steps and torso to generate powerful swings, Jae's attacks were clearly meant to result in quick, shallow cuts. In a single motion, a swordsman could present their enemy with a dizzying array of motions which confused any attack, then bring the edge of the blade to bear against the skin and draw it away, damaging them with the most efficient use of force possible.

The mercenary came to a stop, giving a bow. Imogen had to refrain from applauding, as the gesture might come off as mocking rather than appreciative.

"It does remind of wind." she said, instead, "I see now why your swords are curved; with this kind of strike, it extends the cutting edge longer than a straight edge would."

Imogen grinned, a smile totally unspoilt by any guile. This was exactly why she had come. She knew a dozen different styles for a half-dozen different weapons, but none operated from remotely comparable principles. She would have to learn this.

The Sunsinger raised the single sword she had brought, feeling its heft by letting it rise and fall between thumb and palm, rolling it and flicking it up and down with her wrist. She tossed the sword lightly into the air, watching its slow, lazy rotation, then caught it and brought it around in a rough figure eight. Then she turned to Moon.

"I learn best by being beat to shit." she told him, "Do that a few times, if you would. Don't worry about injury, I won't let myself get hurt too bad."

[Moon Jae-Seong]

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Jae-Seong was only well traveled if one kept one’s scope isolated to Kalzasi and its neighboring nations. He’d spend long stints away from home, sure, but he never actually wandered anywhere farther than Zaichaer. Imogen mentioning that she traveled a lot made him wonder– how far and wide had she gone? He knew, at least, that she’d spent a lot of time in Ecith, but not much else.

Her words about the travel method made the man pause for a moment; he did wonder the extent of her skills with Traversion. It wasn’t a rune he knew much about the finer points thereof; he’d seen it demonstrated by novice and master alike, but each mage had their own nuances, things they were good at, things they weren’t. Continental travel was likely a massive undertaking.

“Correct, we do. I don’t spend a lot of my time in the city, but I have been told I am free to make use of my family’s connections– it shouldn’t be a challenge to find somebody suitable.” He almost sounded bashful.

He didn’t like to invoke his family’s name– it usually resulted in a massive shift in how others treated him, often placing more attention on him than he wanted. It made him uncomfortable. That’s why he’d oft give a moniker– Moon Jae-Seong– rather than Novalys Jae-Seong when asked. He liked the quieter existence, much as he did love his family.

“We’d need only coordinate a meeting point and then go from there, I suppose,” he’d add.

As they strode through the manor grounds, Imogen might’ve seen Galilea, the groundskeeper, fussing with a particularly strange looking flowering plant some small ways off the path they were walking on. It might’ve been dark due to the Eclipse, but even in moonlight, a Lysanrin of monochromatic crimson would be hard to miss when juxtaposed against the greenery. However, she was apparently too focused on whatever it was she’s doing to have noticed Jae-Seong and his companion walk past.

When the swordsmen had finished his demonstration, he was gladdened by Imogen’s response. Her apt observations illustrated her interest far better than any form of flattery would’ve. His expressions were always subtle, but the appreciative smile drawn on his features was broader than anything he’d shown in her presence thus far.

“Exactly right,” he’d nod in affirmation.

Another thing Imogen might’ve noticed would be that the nobleman’s blades were an odd length– just a tad shorter than a standard Kalzasern longsword, but certainly longer than what one would expect of a shortsword. He still had respectable reach, but the modified length helped him maintain his momentum in closer quarters. This slightly shortened, subtly curved longsword would be rare to see used by anyone aside from practitioners of Jae’s particular craft.

Her response to his last question, however, resulted in a curious cant to his head. “Trial by steel in the truest sense, then? As you wish.” From the way his eyes creased, the mercenary appeared pleased with her answer– he respected it.

He also had no doubt of her words. Given what she said about her two-handed fighting style, he could only assume she was no stranger to flesh wounds. And deft as he was with a blade, he had no intention of cutting too deep anywhere important.

“Join me, then,” he’d say as he walked over to the middle of the left half of the field, gesturing over for her to take an opposite stance.

Should Imogen decide to do so, he’d bow to his opponent when she took her place. But after that, his features would lose much of their friendliness, a picture of austere focus drawn instead. He’d lunge forward with little warning; a test of her reflexes. The distance between them quickly closed with one blade striking in a swift, downward arc and the other tucked ‘cross his chest, beneath his forward arm. He intended to adapt the strike of the second blade based on her reaction.

- - -

'Thoughts'

"Synskrit Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Inandoth Tongue/Speech"

[Imogen]

Imogen followed Jae to the center of the field, the one-handed sword gripped loosely at her side. She'd seen Kalzasaern duelists bow to each other before--it wasn't all that uncommon in Zaichaer, either--but whether you did that in training was a matter of the master's tastes. She offered him a bow, which he returned... and then his featured hardened.

The lunge which followed that moment was fast, but it wasn't unexpected. A noviate with the longsword she might be, but she'd spent a lifetime watching her opponent's feet. No matter how fast and graceful Moon was, movement involved basic physical realities. He had to plant his feet, he had to bend his knees, his muscles needed to tense; all of this bespoke intention.

But knowing an opponent was going to attack was merely a necessary prerequisite to proper defense. He was coming right at her, one blade scything down, and she had a choice: block, dodge, or counterattack?

(A half-dozen other options presented themselves to her, but she shoved them roughly aside. She could either learn about swordplay or show off magic, not both at once.)

Blocking the downward strike was the easy choice, but it would leave her at the mercy of his second blade. Even if she'd brought two swords, she wouldn't want to try to block both at once- it seemed too easy to get tangled up in them if you weren't well-practiced.

Dodging the first attack was the obvious move, but could she then block the other weapon? Unclear. She was pretty confident in her own strength and speed, but she wasn't at all sure how quickly Moon could adjust the angle of attack. Annoying.

That left counterattacking, which happened to be her preferred approach by disposition anyway.

As Jae's strike came down towards her, Imogen shifted to the side. Specifically, she shifted away from his elbow, increasing the distance he would have to move to bring that weapon into play against her. She struck fast and low towards his side, intent on forcing him to waste time adjusting his stance and momentum if he wanted to continue his attack. It was tempting to bring her unarmed hand into this, since she was sure she could knock one of the swords out of his hands if she managed to get a solid blow in... but it was probably better not to throw in an unarmored limb as an extra variable. It would be profoundly embarrassing if she ended up severing her own fingers.