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Post by darkkon on Nov 11, 2024 19:29:37 GMT
 (For Reference) - A familiar setting, once again restored anew from the blood, sweat, and collateral of intense combat. The warmth of morning light bleeds through frosted windows along the eastern wall of the studio third of the safehouse suite. A floral, woody scent lofts thinly about the room, its source a lone incense burner sitting upon a bench underneath the center window. A keen nose may even be able to pick out the aloeswood base and lan and hui flowers in the mix. Afore it, the room’s lone occupant, a woman of Chinese descent knelt in silent meditation. Her apparel much the same as every day before, a black form-fitting martial suit, light and flexible. The only variation since their first session some time ago being the style of belt, today being a teal satin waist-bound sash. (Overall not unlike this but with bare feet) Here she waited patiently for her student’s arrival, their lessons set to begin in an hour's time. Upon arrival her student would be let into the reception area as per usual, the front end of the safehouse designed to look like the entry to an exclusive yoga studio and spa with a partition blocking direct sight to the hallway leading further in. The receptionist, and only other present soul within the safehouse, an Indian man, mid thirties, light stubble, short black hair, wearing a loose white yoga suit (similar to this) embroidered with a depiction of the Hindi god Shiva upon the back. He would politely point her student to the studio room she awaited him in. However, upon his entry to the studio something different would be readily apparent to her pupil. The decorations upon the entry wall opposite the windows were stripped and replaced entirely with a display of over a hundred of martial weapons. Just about every regional variant of melee weapon adorned the wall in a neatly arranged quadruplicate, from the Indian katar to the Spanish falcata, all expertly crafted by different smiths across the world. It was time her student found a weapon that was an extension of him, and there was a good chance several would be broken in the process. |
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Post by Nomz on Nov 12, 2024 1:14:30 GMT
Damian nods once to the receptionist as he points him in the correct direction, mindful of his manners in the place of his sensei. He has, as he often does, arrived with 45 minutes to spare and took the time to run surveillance on the area around them before entering. It has nothing to do with his trust of his sensei, but merely good habits.
He does not remove his eyes from his teacher as he enters the room, though he can feel the presence of the weapons along one wall. So many blades- small reflections of himself as he shrugs off his coat to reveal a dark grey martial suit much like hers. Damian sets this aside and approaches only halfway across the room. His body ends in a bow, expression carefully blank.
"Good morning, Sensei," he greets her in a tone as blank as an untouched canvas. Damian keeps his bow, waiting to be acknowledged. He is prepared. He is early. He is tucking the last pieces of Renegade under his ribs where it cannot be seen or acknowledged. Here and now, he is merely her student.
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Post by darkkon on Nov 12, 2024 18:34:33 GMT
Fifteen minutes is all she’d have to wait for her students' arrival. His typical punctuality, after some time spent running cautious surveillance and counter surveillance maneuvers no doubt. Efforts she expected of him, though without speaking it. Caution is a wise trait to have, and she did not appreciate uninvited guests. She listens unmoving, her back to the door as her student arrives and moves to join her in the studio, setting aside his coat before stopping halfway to her.
- ”Good morning, Sensei.” - ”Hm.” Firm, quiet, respectful, accompanied by an ever so slight nod. He would have his acknowledgement to relieve himself of that bow he was no doubt holding. ”I trust you’ve noticed the equipment behind you, acquaint yourself with it.” Her first instruction, tone flat but with an air of command. ”We will be refining your reach, finding the weapon that is the most natural extension of you.” She’d continue, reaching forth to replace the burnt incense with a fresh stick, lighting it with an effortless strike of a match. ”Inspect them, feel their weight, find their balance. When you find one you wish to test grab a pair and we shall begin.”
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Post by Nomz on Nov 13, 2024 1:42:55 GMT
The fabric of his outfit is silent as he straightens up, shifting over his body. He knows better than to show anything than the best of his abilities when he is around his sensei and there is a part of him that only wants to show her the best he has. Damian finds it interesting that his two teachers would offer him a weapon so close to the other. The first was meant to be a tool to protect. This one is meant to be an extension of himself. " Understood, Sensei," he answers calmly, turning to the wall of weapons and trying not to recognize his eyes in any of the blades. Damian thinks of his tonfa and his bo staff. His mind wanders to his bow and his sword. The mission is to protect, is it not? Is he on a mission here? Isn't he supposed to be looking for his voice? A thousand fragmented perspectives of the lad show his eyes close and his head bow. What calls to him? What feels like the thing he would want to come back to time and time again with life or limb or a simple bet on the line? The metal is cool to the touch as he lifts a sword from the wall, running a hand over the blade even as it curves towards the end. A Nimcha, his mind supplies as he takes the handle to test the weight. It feels solid and comfortable until he swings it. The way it cuts through the air feels inadequate and Damian quietly replaces it on the wall. Billao, Ikakalaka, and Ngulu are all passed up as he moves down the wall. He pauses as he spots a Harpe up on the wall and he dares to be impressed. He is almost certain that such a blade was mostly only referenced in mythological contexts. Both Roman and Greek. Damian shakes his head with amusement and keeps going. Now is not the time to get distracted by otherwise curious thoughts. The second weapon to grace his hands is the Liuyedao, the willow leaf knife, and it makes him think of his sister. While she uses a different type of dao, he can see her with this blade in her hands as she dances around enemies as if she is on stage. Would Cass be proud that he picked a weapon like hers? Could he do half as well as Batgirl? Damian takes a step back to look out towards the blunt weapons, spotting the three-sectioned staff further up the wall from him. That one is Spoiler's weapon and about as unpredictable as she is. Damian has been smacked by it on more than one occasion much to Stephanie's amusement. Ultimately, he comes back to Shiva with three types of blades and he lays them out for inspection off to the side of their practice mat: two Ninjatō, two Liuyedao, and two Shikomizue. " I am ready, Sensei," he calls out to her, aware that she knows even as he speaks. Damian turns to offer her one of the two Ninjatō, handle first. The weight of a sword in his hands is familiar, comforting in its own right. As far as he may run from them and the blood they shed, there is no denying that they feel as much a part of him as his heart. This much of his voice has always been here. |
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Post by darkkon on Nov 15, 2024 4:32:52 GMT
- ”Understood, Sensei.” - Calm and measured, as always. The young al’Ghul was a dutiful student. Part of her wished to observe him, where his eyes lingered, where his steps paused, but this was meant to be his choice and his choice alone. Her observation might influence the boy with expectations from his upbringing. She’d have to settle for listening. First weapon, blade, notable convex curve weighted towards the tip. Unsatisfactory. And so she sat, waiting, listening for her student to settle on his first choice and return to her. She would give him until their lesson was scheduled to start, but he would not need it.
Light steps carry her student back to her, where he layed out not one but three pairs of weapons to her side off of the mat. Curious. - ”I am ready, Sensei.” - She would stand, her motion smooth and effortless, glancing over the two other pairs of weapons as she turned around and took the blade offered to her. A chokutō with a simple hilt and tsuba. Straight blade, single edge, less effective at cutting but more effective at stabbing. An ancient design, reliable and time tested. While the ninja clans claim it as their creation, the ninjatō, she knows better. ”Each lesson will be twofold.” She’d start, tone as cold and commanding as her presence, eyes on the blade in her hand.
Manicured fingertips delicately trace the spine of the blade as she positions herself towards the center of the mat. It is a blade they are both intimately familiar with, standard issue in the League. ”You will explain your choice as we test its fit.” She’d continue, a swift slash as she finished, one handed, downwards and to her right while turning to face her student; for added emphasis. There she stood, left hand behind her back, left leg back, blade held forward pointed down in her pupil’s direction; a low guard. ”Begin.” She'd wait a moment, wondering if he would take charge or go on the defensive. If he went on the defensive she would lunge forward, piercing thrust towards the heart to get things started. Swifter than most could react, but within his capability to defend.
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Post by Nomz on Nov 15, 2024 22:46:55 GMT
Damian tips his head to show he understands as Shiva speaks to him, taking a calm step back as she holds the first blade in her hand. It is one he is familiar with, too familiar with. There is something to be said about double-checking your answers and he wishes to ensure that this weapon that saw him through boyhood is not a reflection of his voice.
His mind reels for words as his sensei slips into a low guard and he instinctively reacts with a defensive stance of his own, feet placed apart and body ready to move. Shiva's blade meets his in a clash of metal. Damian's feet move him to the side of the mat and he prepares for a follow-up as words spring forth.
"I believe it wise to start with the familiar. I have known this blade my whole life. It is worth the effort to ensure that the correct choice has not already been presented." His words are quick like the thrust he sends Shiva's way, determined to have her keep her distance. "I know its weight and how to wield it. I know how it feels as it strikes metal and flesh."
There is a 'but' lingering in the air. Could the familiar have become unfamiliar in such a short amount of time?
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Post by darkkon on Nov 16, 2024 0:10:56 GMT
Defensive stance, she would initiate. Forwards lunge, thrust towards the heart, parry and sidestep. - ”I believe it wise to start with the familiar. I have known this blade my whole life. It is worth the effort to ensure that the correct choice has not already been presented.” - There is more weight to these words than they are given, she can feel it. Counter-thrust, poised not to follow up but gain space. - ”I know its weight and how to wield it. I know how it feels as it strikes metal and flesh.” - This much was true, but there was more.
Parry, her blade guiding his blade away opposite his leading arm. instead of backing off she’d circle inward. A quick shoulder thrust, her trailing shoulder against his leading shoulder while her blade was locked with his off to the side. Forceful enough to stagger, but not break. If successful she would grant him a moment to recover before pressing forth with a slash, downward angle from his left. Her eyes, cold, knowing; a gaze that demanded candor. She should not have to command him to speak frankly, this was not a time for wordplay. If he could not be blunt with her, how could she expect him to be blunt with himself.
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Post by Nomz on Nov 17, 2024 17:25:37 GMT
Damian tenses as she parries his blade, seeing and expecting her movement. Locked as he is, all he can do is plant his feet to prevent her from knocking him off his feet and he leans into it. She's stronger and bigger than him, but this is not something he is a stranger to when it comes to this blade.
He is quick to take a step back, unlocking their blades onto to catch the look in her eyes before she swings down. Damian lifts his blade to catch it mid strike in a block. If successful, he turns under it to strike at the back of her knee with a kick. If unsuccessful, he retreats a step and readies for the next attack.
Either way, his tongue unlocks with a furrow between his brows and a rush if words he would otherwise know better than to speak.
"It is familiar, but there is not comfort here. It does all that is expected of it. It is everything I have thrown aside. I picked it because a part of me still does as expected. They only expectations I should seek to appeal are my own."
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Post by darkkon on Nov 17, 2024 19:07:21 GMT
He leans in, countering some of the power of her thrust and maintaining balance, rest of the momentum used to aid a backstep, gain distance, break the lock. Good. Her next attack, downward slash from her right, he moves to block and slip under to her outside. - ”It is familiar, but there is not comfort here. It does all that is expected of it. It is everything I have thrown aside. I picked it because a part of me still does as expected. The only expectations I should seek to appeal are my own.” - Better, what was a demand for candor in her gaze faded to acceptance.
His block would succeed, she was restraining herself to the edge of his limits. This was not forging, this was fitting. However, the kick at the back of her lead knee he was prepping for as he slipped under the block to her outside flank would not. Her back leg would raise, lower body pivoting, before kicking backwards. Her heel set to meet his striking surface ((heel, shin, w/e)). Much like his leaning into her shoulder thrust and using the spare momentum to gain ground, Shiva would use the force of her heel kick meeting his kick to cancel it out and bound a few feet in the opposite direction, resetting mid air to face him with the same low guard as she started.
However, she would not set upon him yet. ”If you cannot excise the weight of the past from this blade then it will forever burden you. You must separate the two, or cast it away entirely.” She’d say, tone cold but instructive, not chiding. Before she would act again, she would await his decision. Would he attempt to work the expectations of his upbringing out of the blade, or would he choose to drop them both and begin anew. The choice was his and his alone.
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Post by Nomz on Nov 17, 2024 19:26:07 GMT
Her heel meeting his is expected if only in the way a student expects a master to meet their strikes. In the way a child does not expect to out do their parent. Damian turns as she pushes away, quick to put up his guard on the chance of retaliation even as he words swim in his head. He isn't used to being honest or raw. It tastes bittersweet.
He notes her low guard and considers the words she offers him. The blade shifts under his hands and Damian frowns at his reflection. Renegade does not stare back. A young, restless al Ghul with careful disdain does. Damian relaxes out of his guard, letting the weapon swing loosely in his grip.
Some things cannot be re-forged. Sometimes, the metal is simply too warped.
"I understand," he says lowly even as he turns for the collection of weapons off to the side. With the type of care the past deserves, he bends to place down the sword and gathers both dao instead. "This one is different."
He tries to gather his thoughts into meaningful words as he carries the second dao over and to his sensei. He offers it wordlessly to her, hilt first.
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Post by darkkon on Nov 18, 2024 2:05:30 GMT
He relents, so she follows suit. Her stance relaxes, her guard drops. He has decided it is not worth the effort for him to try and separate history from blade, whether the burden too great or the fit too poor. - ”I understand.” - As her student returns to his selections Shiva moves to return her chokutō to its place upon the wall, taking note of the care he puts in laying the blade down. For better or worse, it has led him this far. He shows it the respect it is due.
- ”This one is different.” - With light steps Shiva returns to the center of the room, watching as her pupil gathers the next pair of blades. The liuyedao, one of, if not the, most used single handed blades during the Ming and Qing dynasties. A favored sidearm for infantry and cavalry alike, even more popular than the jian. A simple design, single edged, light curve to increase cutting power without sacrificing much thrusting power. Ring guard, cupped to keep rain from getting into the sheath, blood from wetting the grip. A staple for most Chinese disciplines that use blades. She knows the blade well, it is one of her preferred designs, but what of his reasoning?
She can see the contemplation in his face, his stride, as he brings her blade. As silently as he presents it, she takes the hilt of the offered liuyedao. She would grant him a few moments to ready himself, feel the weight of the blade, take his position, collect his thoughts, all the while settling into her own stance. Low, weight shifted back over her crouched left leg, right leg extended forward at a sharp angle. Right arm coiled back, curled inward so the edge of the blade faces skyward. Blade held horizontally at shoulder level, tip pointed directly at her student. When he was ready, no words would be uttered, she would simply bring her left hand within view and beckon him to attack with two fingers.
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Post by Nomz on Nov 18, 2024 2:58:45 GMT
As the weight of the liuyedao leaves his hand, the young lad turns his back to Shiva and heads back to his place in the training room. He rolls his wrist, testing the weight of the willow-leaf saber and how it moves with his body. It is not one he has trained with before and yet, he stands here with it in his hands, ready to face his sensei. He turns his body as he brings his weapon close to himself, mimicking Shiva's stance.
"I've used many weapons and a variant of this one is preferred by my sister."
He sees her beckoning and the student is quick to follow his sensei's direction. A quick step and he thrusts his leading arm forward, allowing it to twist naturally to bring the dao into a horizontal cut at Shiva's middle. If blocked, he would try to bring the weight to the tips of the blades to break the lock and thrust again. His intention- what he has seen done with this blade involves keeping it close to him and avoiding wide arcs like he might make with other swords.
"She is everything I should be. Everything I cannot be. All that I refuse to be."
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Post by darkkon on Nov 18, 2024 6:01:20 GMT
Mirror stance, interesting. Imperfect, but not rough. A lifetime of experience there to help alleviate inexperience with a new form. We shall see how he adapts. - ”I’ve used many weapons and a variant of this one is preferred by my sister.” - Oh? Curious. Cold eyes belie no tell, but Shiva wonders which ’sister’ he speaks of, the new Bat? She did not recall the others specializing in a blade, the blond one used a few rarely but preferred the three section-bō hybrid. Didn’t the new Bat use her fists? Preferred but refused to use, perhaps. Avoidance of the lethal like all but two.
Forward step, snap horizontal slash towards her midsection as he uncoils his arm. Despite its newness he uses the form to build speed well. Let's see how he adapts. Lead foot shifts right, pointing towards the path of the oncoming blade. Rear leg pushes forth, blade tip angled down, poised to guide his oncoming swing over her head, shifting her arm as needed to prevent him from tipping his blade down over hers as she slides low underneath. She’d turn the tip of her blade skyward once they made contact, to prevent catching his blade on her guard, and to swing the blade around for a light slash aiming to knick her students trailing thigh as she continued to slide for another meter.
- ”She is everything I should be. Everything I cannot be. All that I refuse to be.” - Curious, so what is his reasoning behind this choice then? To understand her? To see if his path followed hers? To hope that it does not? Did he choose this blade to represent the other half of his life and those expectations? Her lead foot digs in, bringing her to a slight crouch as her body pivots. Her left leg now leads with a shallow angle and heel raised, left arm in a close guard, right arm overhead with blade angled forward and down, tip not far past her left elbow. Would he retaliate? If not, she would pursue, stepping forth with her right leg and turning her overhead guard into a downward slash from her left. ”Can you separate her from the blade?” Her eyes narrow, tone cold, prying.
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Post by Nomz on Nov 19, 2024 2:59:04 GMT
Damian's blade goes over her head and his eyes sharpen in focus. He can't guard against the slash to his thigh, already turning in a spin to meet her on the other side. The pain does not stop him, does not halt his movements. It is a lesson- a reminder to be quicker and smarter.
He slides into a defensive stance as she crouches, left leg leading despite all his weight resting on the other leg. Damian's stance better suits a different type of blade and his body is reacting on instinct. The lad knows that it's wrong even as he lifts his blade, holding it horizontally with the sharp edge facing Shiva.
Damian raises his blade to catch the downward slash during the higher end of its arc. "I don't know. It's heavy in its own way. Useful, but-" He uses his palm on the flat back of the blade to add strength to the move as he shoves Shiva's blow to the side. He's seen his sister pull a similar move and he tries to follow through with a spin on his heel, intending to bring the dao down in a slash from his right at Shiva's side and thigh. "Ill-fitting."
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Post by darkkon on Nov 19, 2024 18:03:17 GMT
Contact, blood is drawn. Her blade, his left thigh, shallow, not disabling; he hides the pain well. Defensive stance, left leg leading but weight on right, blade held horizontally in mid guard. Discomfort, not from his wound but from his blade, she can see it written in his stance. Can he work through it? She shall see. Stepping forward with her right, blade turned ‘round and sent forth on a strong downward slash on his right. Reaction, hand braced against the spine of the blade as it raised to meet hers for a two-handed parry, intended to carrying her swing past him to her right.
- ”I don’t know. It’s heavy in its own way. Useful, but-” - Contact, her blade shifted to her right. Pivot, momentum used to spin a counter slash from her left aimed at her side. So she too would spin. Left leg coiled and brought forth, momentum added to that of her swing to spin on the ball of her right foot. - ”Ill-fitting.” - She would carry her swing around to meet his with an upward angle from his right, contact aimed close to the guard towards the base of the blade, intent to force his swing upwards with hers and over the two of them. Would he keep hold? Or is it as ill-fit as he says? It is not lost on her that these first two choices have been more in service of a ritual to move forward than in service of finding what fits him.
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