Practice in the Colosseum

The Colosseum has been in high spirits lately - the shifting towards spring has brought out certain sense of jubilation to people's steps and it showed in the people.

However, this day was not that day. While the rain was not very heavy, it had turned the stony floor into layer of dirt and mud, with the help of the melting snow. Those who preferred cold climate, and those who preferred the warmer climate, they trained and fought in miserable compromise.

Aelwyn stood near a large wooden pole with a large hay dummy hanging from it, trying to shelter from the falling rain. The water did make the sith-makar quite distinctive, as it brought out the shade of his autumn scales. A large box and his glaive remained near him. "Tch... No more deliveries in rain..." He breathes as he rubs his sides. His attention was on the group doing some practice fights; couple of swordsmen and a spearman doing their little dance near.

Two damp figures emerge from within the entrance to the Colosseum. Practice shield and lance in hand, Luke walks alongside his steed Thunder. His hair is plastered against his forehead, but the light rain is not enough to scrub the easy grin from his expression. As his gaze finds the autumn-red sith-makar, he waves from afar and jogs toward his friend. Thunder breaks into a light trot to keep up with his rider. The end of the lance drags in the wet dirt, carving out a meandering line behind him.

"Morning, Aelwyn!" He glances at the fighters sparring nearby, but his attention is drawn toward the mysterious box. "Wow, that's a big box. May I inquire as to its contents?" He sticks the lance into the ground, upright, and drops the practice shield for now.

Aelwyn raises his head as hears the familiar sound, and he straightens off the wooden pole. With a low rumble, he gives his scales one last thorough rub for warmth, before he slides his hand down by his hip. "Rider," He greets, with a bow of his head. The draconian then looks towards Thunder. He was not sure how to address a horse, so there was a small nod of his head, before his eyes return towards Lucius with a light show of teeth. "Somebody is having a good morning." The sith-makar points out. "Excellent breakfast? Warm and fulfilling?" There was a low growl. This one did not come from Aelwyn's throat.

The box - a heavy box by the looks of it, but impenetrable to outside inspection. "He may, but this one would not have an answer for him." He rumbles in amusement. His hand gestures towards the lance. "Is this how one handles such a long spear?"

"Oh, yes, I find that the Fernwood's breakfast service rarely disappoints." Lucius blinks twice and then reaches into his cloak. "Let's see, uh, do you like apples?" He pulls out a round green fruit and holds it out to Aelwyn. Thunder turns toward the outstretched hand, his ears perked, but Lucius gently nudges him back using his other hand. "Later," he promises. The warhorse snorts and shifts a couple steps away.

"This spear, I think it's just for practice. The pointy end is blunted, but it's weighted to mimic the feel of a real lance." He examines the spear, his gaze tracing along its shaft. "We were taught to not be careless with our weapons, but," he shrugs, "it's how we use them in actual combat that really matters, right? I think you would know, though. I really like your weapon, one that combines the advantages of both the sword and the spear." He grins at Aelwyn, admiring the sith-makar's glaive.

Aelwyn continued to stand brave in the drizzling rain. Even if his mane of quills was flattened; and there was certain stiffness to his body. "Fernwood? Hmmh, perhaps Rider should come to the Tar-" The offered apple makes him pause, and then he observes the interaction between the horse and its rider in curiosity. A toothy grin appears on his face. "This one presumes Rider is not trying to handle this one like one of his mounts." He steps closer though, with his swaying step, and accepts the apple. A copper is in turn, given, as the sith-makar bows his head, orange eyes staring right at Lucius. "Gratitude."

Stretching back to a stand, he bites into the apple. "The glaive?" The Dragoon asks, turning his head and looking at the red ribboned, ornately crafted weapon of his. "Hmm, this one always had to improvise in tight situations." Looking back at Lucius, "And a strong spear goes a long way, where a sword fails." A sway of his tail behind him. "And how does one handle Rider's lance? Is it not too unwieldy to do nothing but thrust into its opponent?"

There's another sharp chunk, as Aelwyn bites into his apple and looks at Lucius, with a tilt of his head.

"Oh, there's no —" Luke protests as Aelwyn places the copper in his hand, before dipping his head and pocketing the coin. "Thanks." He lifts the practice spear from the dirt. "As for the techniques I know, many of them are identical for both lance and spear." He thrusts the weapon experimentally into the air, watching its blunted spearhead. "The most important principle is to make use of its length. Keep the opponent at a distance, and don't let them close in. The spear prefers attack over defense." He retreats into a defensive stance and holds the spear across his body in mixed grip. "This is not very effective, and only intended as a temporary measure, when necessary." He relaxes his stance. "Perhaps what I'm telling you is not so interesting because you might already know the same principles for the glaive."

"But in tight spaces," he hesitates, "I could see how that would be a problem. My lance is about as long as Thunder, so if Thunder can fit, I wouldn't have to worry about my weapons. It's also true that the lance was designed for mounted combat, and I can't say the same for a spear or for a glaive."

Aelwyn finishes up the apple in short order - sharp teeth and all - and then he puts his hand back on his hip; the rest of his ruddy scaled body tilts towards the other side. "Rider prefers brute force over more subtle approach?" The draconian asks with a flick of his tongue and as he steps closer, he bumps his hip against Lucius in passing. A ruddy hand lays onto the practice lance. "Yet this one supposes there is only one way an arm such as this can be used for. It cannot parry nor harry; it's quarry will be in the end. A glaive dances and weaves, but it shan't hammer a point."

The Dragoon's attention is then attracted by Thunder, and with a glance over towards the horse, he turns his eyes back towards Lance. "Rider has been trained with the horse?"

"Yes! This is Thunder." The war horse shakes his mane at the sound of his name, releasing a storm of raindrops. Lucius raises an arm to shield himself. "The bond between cavalier and steed must be reliable even in circumstances of life and death, so great pains are taken to strengthen the bond from an early age. We are ever loyal to each other. Even if one of us doesn't like sharing his treats," he adds in mock reproach. "Of course, please feel free to approach him if you wish. He's well trained." Thunder's large hazel eyes peer at the sith-makar, and he stays still by his rider's side.

Lucius gazes upon the glaive once more. "Dances and weaves," he murmurs to himself, before turning to Aelwyn. "You're right, there's not much subtlety in the lance, at least, not the way I use it. But how about your glaive? I'm curious to hear about the techniques you've learned to use with a weapon that no doubt requires more finesse than a simple spear."

"A cavalier." Aelwyn repeats with his arms crossing across his chest, and he keeps staring right back at Thunder's eyes, his own orange pupils unflinching. The sith-makar seemed to be lost in some other place; a mind awhirl as he stared at the horse in thought. In the end, takes him a moment to respond - which he does with a light tap on Lucius' ankles and a sudden rumble, as he stretches his sinuous body.

"The glaive is not simple weapon - it is part of one's body." He explains, and moves to stand besides Lucius. Brazenly, he moves to grab the other man's hand that is holding the lance. "It is true that spear is not one to be defensive with - but with a glaive, one can be playful." He flicks his tongue at the human. "Can Rider imagine dancing with this lance, feeling the weight of it shift in one's grasp, tempting and taunting, as one reels its prey closer?"

Lucius draws in a sharp breath as the sith-makar grabs his hand, but the momentary surprise fades and he considers Aelwyn's question. "I don't know what you mean," he admits. "I was taught that once the enemy closes in, and the advantage of greater reach is lost, the best remaining option is often simply to retreat. How is it that you're able to fight by drawing the enemy closer? Suppose your opponent is charging toward you on foot. How would you react? Or better yet," he grins eagerly, "would you care to show me?"

"Are spears not meant to break a charge?" Aelwyn responds with a rumbling amusement, "That is what the soldiers in the inn have always told this one." He tilts his head towards Lucius, and there's a moment of pause. Then with a slow grin over his teeth, the ribbons of his horns tilt. "Of course." He lets go of the lance, sliding his fingers across its surface, before with a final flick of his fingers he moves to stand in front of Lucius. "Is Rider one who wishes to take the charge?" He asks. "This one certainly is willing to be lead in a dance." His forked tongue teases between his lips. "Though this one supposes the lance may not be the opportune weapon of choice, lest Rider wishes to spear this one?"

Luke smiles. "No, that would be far too dangerous indeed." He looks around for a rack of practice equipment, and finding one nearby, selects a longsword from the rack. "What if I use this instead?" He swings the sword around a couple times, adjusting to its weight, and then straps a shield to his other arm. Then he moves a few paces away and squares off, raising both sword and shield into ready position. "Let me know when I should charge," he calls out to Aelwyn.

Aelwyn looks at his glaive; but he follows on after Luke. He touches across the practice equipment, before he grabs a polearm that is relatively similar size to his own. "A sword?" A momentary flash of his teeth, and he taps Lucius' ankles again with his tail. "A man of many talents." Grabbing the polearm and laying it across his shoulders, Aelwyn moves to walk over in forwards; tail swaying behind him. The draconian really was the exact epitome of cocky confidence. Sliding the weapon off his shoulders though, he turns towards Lucius, holding his weapon in hand. "When Rider feels ready."

The copper and blue robes are visible in momentarily glimpse as the Goblin makes her way towards where the two stand off from each other. She settles on her behind nearby, apparently interested in the sparring about to commence.

Her notebook is opened up and her pencil begins to moving back and forth as she sketches the surroundings.

Lucius nods and raises the sword above his head in salute. Their new audience escapes his immediate attention, as he dashes toward Aelwyn and lunges in a forward jab with his sword, keenly observing the sith-makar's every move.

GAME: Lucius rolls melee: (9)+7: 16

Aelwyn holds out his polearm in front of him; it does not stand still though, it rolls just ever so subtly along with the draconian. The ruddy sith-makar gets a deep focus in his eyes - and as the human charges at him, he times the sway of his body just in time to dodge out of the blade's way. The rest of his body moves along with the motion as the human slides past him and with a running step and a turn, suddenly he is the one behind Lucius, his polearm pointed at the human's back.

"That was a fine charge, Rider." The sith-makar says with a flash of his teeth. "He certainly can hold his blade." The orange eyes dart towards the crowd though - as one does - and he spots the albino gobbo sketching. Walking forward, he slaps Lucius on the shoulder. "Be sharp, one is about to get immortalized." He quietly says in the human's ear. "Another try?"

The Gobbo is sketching away as the Rider lunges forward, to be sidestepped. She seems less interested in the fight, and more interested in the forms doing the fighting. She moves a little closer, still out of harms way, her focus currently on Lucius, the pencil wiggling back and forth quickly.

Lucius arrests his forward momentum as he charges past Aelwyn, only to find the sith-makar in perfect position to strike his exposed back. His eyes widen. "Your agility and reflexes are both remarkable." Then he follows the sith-makar's gaze toward the familiar figure clad in Navosian robes and greets her with a small wave. "Yes, let's try that again." He jogs a few steps away, then turns and charges again, this time swinging the sword in a wide slicing arc.

GAME: Lucius rolls melee: (7)+7: 14

Simony is starting to get engaged in the contest, actually relieved that neither of them have been injured so far. Her pencil continues to wiggle back and forth quickly. "Stop playing with him and hit him!", she calls out, without indicating which him should hit whom.

Aelwyn repeats his previous stance - but as he sees Lucius going for the swing this time around, he starts to slowly step towards the side. Orange eyes track that blade - and then he slides off towards the side, moving with Lucius' blade. His own polearm echoes the sword's motion, briefly touching the ground, as Lucius once again sees him standing besides the human, his weapon at the ready. Not as clean of a switch this time - but if that polearm still had a blade, he may have had the perfect angle to cut tendons.

"Tch, this one can feel Rider has been trained well with the art of sword." The Dragoon compliments, tail swaying behind him as he steps closer towards the human. To Simony, the ruddy sith-makar raises his hand. "This one has been trying!" He calls back out and gives Lucius a look, tapping his tail at the other's ankles. "Once more?"

"Not as well as you have, if this is any indication." Lucius grins helplessly as once again he finds himself in an unenviable position after his missed charge. "I think I'm starting to understand what you said earlier. Let me try something different this time." He faces Simony and shrugs, wearing the same helpless expression.

A dozen paces away, Lucius turns and salutes once again before charging. It appears that he's going for another cut, but at the last moment he flips his wrist around and aims a precise straight-line thrust using the momentum of the cutting arc, as his eyes carefully track Aelwyn's movements.

GAME: Lucius rolls melee: (9)+7: 16

GAME: Simony casts Bless. Caster Level: 4 DC: 14

The Goblin sets her notebook down, and holds up her little holy symbol. She murmurs a prayer, and gestures to the two combatants. "May Navos guide your strengths.", she says, just loud enough for the two to hear. Simony settles on her knees, the notebook forgotten.

Aelwyn definitely was riding a high. It's not often he gets to flex! And flex he does, stretching his body out for a moment before getting ready for yet another charge. "May the skies bless the Rider," The Dragoon says. His eyes were tracking the human's movements, body moving on instinct as he feels the cut incoming. And perhaps therein lay the trap of comfort - or Simony's blessing - as Aelwyn suddenly realizes that what he saw was not what he saw.

Tail quickly catches its owner and this time, the blade misses by few inches. Ruddy scaled hand slides onto Lucius' shoulder and the rest of the sith-makar's body follows in kind; sliding around him. Last few steps are spent recovering his pose, as the sith-makar comes to a more stumbling stop.

"Haa, that was a close try." Aelwyn rumbles in half-amusement, half-gathering-his-wits-about-him and holds his side. Nope, scales still there. "Rider can weave his way with the sword."

For the third time, Lucius finds himself swinging at air through the charge. He turns around and shakes his head. "No, your defense is truly remarkable," he replies. "Three times, and not a single opening. I'm learning a lot today."

His gaze turns to the Navosian cleric. "Thank you, Simony! I'll keep trying." Then he faces Aelwyn. "One more?" he offers, wagging the practice sword in hand.

The Gobbo stands to give Lucius a curtsey. "You're welcome, good luck!" She grins at Aelwyn, "Dance the dance!" Thee wee priestess kneels down again, picking up her sketchbook to try and get something of the final pass.

Aelwyn bows his head. "Once more." The draconian relents as he steps over towards Lucius. He holds the other's sword hand once again, hefting it upwards. "Try not to hit so much, Rider. Dance with me." The ruddy sith-makar suggests, but he moves along and resets his position.

Lucius nods and moves into position for the final charge. Pondering Aelwyn's advice, he breathes deeply before springing into motion. As he closes in, his sword remains in ready position until the last possible moment, when he makes a wide horizontal sweep. Not toward Aelwyn, but aiming at where he expects the sith-makar to be after making the dodge.

GAME: Lucius rolls melee+1: (6)+7+1: 14

Simony has dropped back into sketch mode, the pencil wiggling quickly. The paper seems to catch the gist of Lucius' and Aelwyn's back and forth footwork.

"You can do it!", she calls out, again not informing on whom she is cheering.

Aelwyn keeps his polearm steady, watching Lucius - yet this time around, he neatly slides out of the sweep's way. The tip of his polearm touches the ground. "Nice thought, Rider." He says as he walks over the human, patting him over his shoulder. "Yet this one is still here, waiting to be hit on by the Rider." He gives the human a brief bump of his hips - and then a half-oruch moves to stand near the big box he abandoned.

"... this one needs to part ways, Rider. Perhaps next time he can show me how to work the lance?" Hand slides down on his hip. "Or how one works the TarRaCe." Toothy grin.

Simony gets a wave from his as well. "This one's gratitude for the specatorship!" He calls, but then starts walking away, glaive returned in his possession.

As he comes to a stop, Lucius turns to face his sparring partner for the final time. "I've still got a ways to go," he replies, panting slightly. "Thank you, Aelwyn, for the practice." He waves goodbye as the sith-makar departs.

Finding his way toward Simony, he grins, his mood seemingly unaffected by the four consecutive misses. "Sorry I couldn't put on a better show for you, but I hope it was still enjoyable to watch." He finds a seat near her and brushes back some of his rain-slicked hair.

The Goblin shows off a few of her sketches, showing Aelwyn and LUcius's dance. There's a two page spread which shows more detail in Lucius' final attempt at landing a hit on Aelwyn, making it more close than it may have been. She settles down next to him. "Aw, you don't have to apologize to me. It's just practice, right? Better to mess up here than in real combat when stuff is on the line."

"That's exactly right. Someday I could be up against a real enemy who uses Aelwyn's fighting style. You saw what would have happened, so next time, I would like to improve a little bit." He examines the drawing, eyes bright with admiration. "Do clerics spar with each other? One way or another, I'm guessing you've found ways to keep your mind sharp as a knife, no doubt as Navos would have it."

"I am sure that clerics do spar with each other. We are our patron's warriors, when required." She eyes the larger man. "I am certain you would squash me easily." Simony looks away, eyeing the sparring grounds. "But if you asked nicely, I would spar with you." She shrugs then, "My mind is probably sharp due to the reading that I do. I also follow a no-nonsense diet and follow some vows."

"Oh, I should've made myself more clear." Luke responds, stumbling over words in his haste. "Not with martial weapons, of course, but I wondered about sparring with spells, perhaps, or academic debates... never mind," he smiles. "It was a silly question."

The adventurer looks down at his hands. "A few days ago I took a Guild job in the Felwood, and we slew an ooze that seemed corrupted by the Felwood's influence. After it melted away, we found a black opal left behind. Would you happen to know anything about these gems and what they could mean? I have no idea myself."

The Goblin chuckles, "Fisticuffs? Oooh, spells and debates. Er. I suppose that is a thing we could do, hmm?"

Her eyes widen at the mention of the gem. "So, they just ... fell out of the creature, or did you have to go ... ewh, digging? I mean, sometimes I am sure creatures eat someone or something that has gems on them. It may be some sort of spell component used to create or summon them? This is just a guess, though. There could be something more involved." She rubs at her face a little. "I could do some research on it? Maybe there's records of such things found before. What kind of creatures were they again?"

"It was an ooze." Lucius frowns in thought. "That's a very good guess. I heard that oozes can eat all kinds of things. If the ooze, uh, absorbed the opal from somewhere else, it would be more difficult to find its true origin. I suspect it has something to do with the Felwood, but that's not much to go on. Your help is more than welcome and highly appreciated." He runs a hand through his wet hair once again and looks toward the Gobbo. "Well, anyway. What have you been up to these days?"

Simony uhms, "If I may offer something else to consider? If other creatures were slain in the same area, roughly, and had similar gems, it does form a pattern, and moves it from random chance to purposeful finding." The Gobbo nods, "From what little I know, the Felwood is full of strangely affected creatures." She chuckles then, and leans against him, bumping his shoulder. "I've been visiting the Tower site again, talking to Slixvah, the Egalrin who saved the away party when things got... dicey."

"How about you? What else is new?"

"Oh." Luke's eyebrows rise, the news apparently not what he expected to hear. "Is that another one of the Guild's ongoing assignments? I've not heard much about it, but I'm glad you're okay." He grins. "For myself, I'm enjoying seeing winter turn to spring. It's one of my favorite times of the year, a time of new growth." He gazes upward at the grey skies. "But unfortunately, it seems the weather today didn't get the memo. Would you care for a warm meal at the TarRaCe? I've been looking for an excuse to visit that particular establishment for a while now."

The Goblin blinks a few times, looking up at the rain falling, and then nodding to Luke. "I would love to, thank you. It is an excellent suggestion." Simony bounces up to her feet. "Lead the way. I have not heard of this place, much less know where it is. I am hoping for something hot, to chase the chill away. And yes, it was an interesting Guild assignment. We were there to retrieve knowledge and information, it was a treasure trove of scrolls and books, it also had a statue of Animus, can you believe it?"

"If memory serves, it should be in this general area. We'll find it together." Then Simony's last sentence registers with Luke and his head whips back around. "A statue of Animus? Well that's surprising, to say the least! I'd love to hear more about how you found it in the Tower. Let's see, it might be this way..." He also rises to his feet, and begins heading toward the Colosseum exit.

"To be fair, I only found this please because you can't miss it. I don't think there's a larger building in the whole city. I tend to get self-absorbed sometimes, and I admit to my fair share of bouncing off people's knees or finding some crate stashed on the road." The albino reaches up to hold Lucius' forearm.

"As far as missions go... it was alright, it was my first, so I am happy for that. What we found first are... traps..."