Even Drug Dealers need to be able to protect themselves right?
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Zasalamir had been searching around Ne'haer for a capable instructor in the art of the longsword. He had little knowledge of the art, thanks to his father wanting his son to know how to protect himself, but it was more on the novice role. He figured this place would have suitable swordsman to help refine his talents in the art of swordplay. No matter who he asked one name seem to be on their lips, Doran Thetys. After hearing this man's name so many times he decided it would be best to seek this man out and inquire about tutelage. After asking around he gathered enough details to pinpoint the man's home in Ne'haer. Once locating it, the blonde conjured his courage and knocked on the door, hoping to get a more favorable answer to his request. Many of those he asked about this Doran fellow had some less than favorable tales of him, and Zasalamir was not ready for a fight with someone of his skill level. That and his father was occupied with other business today so he had to come alone. He needed to do this on his own anyhow. He wouldnt always be able to count on others especially with the goals he had planned. No this would have to be done by himself. He wasnt sure what he was getting himself into, but there was no turning back now. he hoped that if this Doran did agree to train him, it would not end in his death.
"Speech"
Last edited by Zasalamir on Sat Jun 23, 2018 9:42 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 261
The Mortalborn had left the kingdom of Rynmere several seasons earlier as people had begun to notice that there was something not quite right about him. He had spent over a decade there, but he still looked as if he were a man in his early thirties, and he always would, unless he used his powers excessively and burnt himself out. He had found employment at one of the many hospitals in Ne’haer and occasionally lent his sword to the highest bidder. Once he had been a soldier and spent most of his time on the battlefield – he had fought for opposing countries, on both sides of a war - but these were peaceful times – or maybe it was just the calm before the storm. He could feel it sometimes, a strangeness in the air, as if there were something that was about to happen.
He had returned from the hospital to the home that he had recently bought a few hours earlier in order to continue his research into the art of alchemy, especially Blood Magic and was just pouring over a book that he had retrieved from the local library when he heard a knock on the door. He sat completely still for a moment and listened, wondering who it might be – a visitor or something more sinister, and then he made a few quick steps over to the door and opened it, one hand on the hilt of his sword so that he would be able to draw it quickly, just in case they had sent somebody after him again.
The man that stood on the other side of the threshold was not who or what he had expected. Zasalamir was tall, even though he was still two or three inches shorter than him, well-built and not unattractive, with long golden hair that cascaded down his back, although that would likely be of little consequence in the long run. The Mortalborn looked him over somewhat coolly and raised an eyebrow questioningly before he asked, “Yes? What do you want?” His voice was just as cool as the expression on his face, and he held himself completely straight and with confidence. At present, he was dressed in fine clothes of coal and crimson and dark leather boots, as if he were of noble birth rather than what he really was – a bastard, the product of a brief union between an Immortal and a mortal woman.
The door opened as a ebony haired man stepped forth, eyeing Zasalamir with inquiry before asking what he wanted. The blonde stared briefly trying to feel the man out but oddly enough he couldnt. It was common for this happen, as Zasalamir had met many in his young life whom he just not peg off of their first meeting, forcing him to get to know the person better. Bowing he knelt on one knee and spoke, his tone calm and non-aggressive but is resolve and intent avidly clear. "Ive searched over all of Ne'haer for a suitable instructor of the sword and the result of such has led me to you good sir. If you would honor me, I would request to learn under your tutelage. As forward as this may sound, I simply cant take no for an answer." He said lifting his head to look the man in his eyes, Zasalamir's position & resolve on the matter burning like the sun in his eyes. "No matter how you feel, I will learn from you, even if it means becoming a pest. I apologize now for i wont be making turning me down easy for you."He affirmed, standing up straight as his hands clasped in front of him. As he rose he noticed the man had his hand on the hilt of his sword which caused Zasa to assume he was expecting a more unsavory visit. It made his brow rise out of curiosity but would rather not probe into the man's business.
As the man bowed and knelt in front of him, the son of Ziell inclined his head. He appreciated the gesture and was pleasantly surprised by the mortal’s manners that were a rarity in this time and age. His tone was befitting of the occasion as well, calm and non-aggressive, but firm. Certain things that he said left something to be desired in his opinion though. Still, he opened the door a crack further and finally stepped outside in order to take a closer look and hear him out, his hand still hovering near the hilt of his sword for he would never let his guard down, not when facing a prospective student.
“How did you find out about me?” he wanted to know and gestured for Zasa to come closer so that he could take a better look at him, narrowing his eyes slightly as he did so. The tone of his voice was cool and matter-of-fact rather than laced with suspicion. He was occasionally paranoid, but not excessively so. “Who told you where I live?” He had already garnered some fame as an alchemist and a swordsman, but it still interested him who had sent the man to him and what kind of people Zasa had been talking to.
The man was bold, he decided, almost foolishly so. As Zasa informed him that he wouldn’t take no for an answer, the Mortalborn raised an eyebrow and furrowed his brow, in surprise as well as mild irritation. “If you want to learn from me, I would suggest that you try your hardest not to become a pest. I have little interest in pests and little patience for men that threaten to get on my nerves if I don’t give them what they want”, he informed him flatly, but he didn’t move away from him and close the door again. A part of him disapproved of the man’s choice of words, but another part of him that felt quite flattered by the fact that Zasa had decided to approach him, he had to admit. Besides, it spoke well of him that he had chosen him and not one of those so-called weapon instructors that had never fought in a real war.
“Besides that”, he pointed out. “You ought to introduce yourself to a prospective teacher. Who are you, what have you learned so far – and why do you wish to learn from me? Everybody has a reason for why they want to learn to fight. What is yours?”
Zasalamir sighed in relief when the man finally came out of his door way. All of his body language suggested cautious and on alert like an animal vigilant for predators, but why. Someone so skilled made enemies so powerful even he had to watch his back. Following the gesture to come closer, Zasa obliged and approached, but maintained a respectable distance, still close enough however to take the man in full view. His impression was definitely that of an aristocratic nature, something Zasa was use too back in Etzos making jewelry for nobles. As for the man's inquiry, He brushed back rogue strands of his hair as he looked around the area. "I simply used the same process I use when acquiring gemstones. Listen to the land, and follow my intuition. In your case however, when so many speak of your talents its not hard to find a man like you. Add the fact that some of your neighbors are proud to have an acclaimed alchemist and grand-master of the sword living next to them. No matter how secluded you wish to be even you cant defend against the power of loose lips. You would have been better off taking seclusion to the mountains." He said his expression stoic the entirety of him speaking. Zasa continued to analyze Doran, in order to figure out why the man radiated an aura of "unease"
The man's next words made Zasa scratch his head in embarrassment. "My apologies Sir Doran, its an old habit when I was working for my father back in Etzos. He believed in coaxing a rival business into submission was always the right way to go. Not the first impression i wanted to give, but I wasnt sure how this would truly go. My intent was to be as persistent as I be in the matter." He said bowing in an apologetic manner. "How rude of me as I forgot my manners in Etzos it seems. I am Zasalamir Escolothe' of Etzos. As to why I wish your tutelage, as a procurer of gems and a merchant in jewelry, I cant always employ mercenaries as bodyguards when conducting business. As such I need to be able to handle my own. My father gave me minuscule instruction, but I know my novice skill in the art wont save me or my business. Which is why I am here, as i know the basics of sword play, but wish to refine and polish that skill. That among more personal reasons of course. I was taught to never rely on other to do something you can do better yourself, and no one can protect me better than myself." he said as he bowed to the man once more.
"Speech"
Last edited by Zasalamir on Tue Jun 26, 2018 3:44 am, edited 2 times in total. word count: 464
His neighbours were proud of him? The Mortalborn raised an eyebrow as he heard that, but then he inclined his head. Zasa’s threat to become a pest if he didn’t teach him had left something to be desired in his opinion, but the words that followed made up for it. Apparently, the mortal did possess some manner of intelligence, even if he didn’t always make use of it and think things through – a flaw that a lot of mortals unfortunately seemed to possess.
“You are a gemcutter?” he asked, having come to the decision that associating with Zasalamir might be worthwhile. “Perhaps we will be able to come to an agreement then. I regularly need certain gems – they constitute important reagents for my potions, among other things. Perhaps you would be willing to reveal some of your sources to me in return for me teaching you how to wield a blade?” he wanted to know before he stepped aside and gestured for Zasa to follow him into the house.
“Tell me, did you bring a weapon, Zasalamir Escolothe?” he asked, pronouncing the mortal’s somewhat unusual name slowly, but flawlessly as he led him down the hallway. Doran’s home was strange. It was nearly barren, apart from the alchemical supplies that filled one of the rooms, and devoid of decorations such as plants or paintings. A few arcs in the future, he would live a life of luxury due to Syroa’s growing influence on him, but here, in Ne’haer he was still a scientist that cared little about material goods.
“No matter, if you don’t have one, you can use one my own swords”, he remarked and grabbed a blade from a stand before he opened another door that led into a small courtyard. He made a few steps away from Zasa, drew his blade, an old, masterfully made longsword and settled into his stance, feet shoulder-width apart and knees slightly bent.
“Show me what you are capable of so that I know what exactly I’ll have to work with”, he demanded. Others might have asked Zasa to simply tell them what he had learned so far, but Doran had found that people often exaggerated the extent of their abilities. Anybody could tell that they had learned the basics of swordplay. Only seeing the mortal in action, only seeing him move would tell him how good he really was – and how he would be able to improve.
"That is a fair trade for your knowledge in the sword. My father's main clientele are Transmutor mages. I am acquainted with the needs of transmutation, though no expert in any regard. If you would allow it, I would be happily willing to acquire these precious stones for you and delivier them to your designated location." He spoke, following the man after being invited into his home. It was rather underwhelming place, even for a swordsman of his talents. He was expecting lavish decorations and exquisite silks and exotic weapons adorning the walls. No armor or treasure or even trophies to reinforce this claim of being a master swordsman. But as he just learned, this man was of many talents. "Is swordplay & alchemy the only talents of someone of you reputation?" He asked, but went to answer his other question, whether he brought a sword or not. "I have, its a simple longsword for the most part, but I am sure it will do just fine." He said unsheathing it, displaying it in front of himself. Following the ebony haired man into a courtyard, he watched as Doran distanced himself from Zasa, telling him to show him what he knew. Taking a breath his grip from both hands was placed on the sword hilt, rotating the weapon down and to the side from above lowering it to a 45 degree angle. the word's point was slants=ed downward and behind, with the long edge aiming forward at Doran, not at the ground. This would permit Zasalamir a strong rising cut with the long edge with his first attack, which would allowing him to end that attack in up and to the outside striking position. The point of his blade aiming somewhat downward or upward at the sword-master's face or throat. Knowing this Zasalamir made his move, coming up for a hard rising slash, which if it missed or the godly blade-master parried or deflected, he could try from the high striking position to impale Doran's face or neck with his sword. Though it was a test, even he knew he had to treat this as if Doran was an enemy he had to dispatch.
As Zasalamir asked him if swordplay and alchemy were the only talents of someone of his reputation, the Mortalborn furrowed his brow in mild irritation. Was the fact that he was one of the greatest swordsmen and scientists that Ne’haer had likely ever seen not enough for him? What else did he expect? That he regularly wrestled with dragons? He looked at the mortal for a moment and then he flatly told him, “No.” That was all that he said on that matter as he had not appreciated Zasalamir’s question in the first place.
He would not back down now though and send Zasalamir away again, especially not since he had promised to give him gemstones. Instead, he watched him as he drew his own sword. “You will want to hold your sword with the lead hand close to the cross guard and the thumb just touching it”, he remarked. “Your rear hand should grip the pommel. Don’t grip your weapon too tightly though. A vice-like grip will make it harder for you to move into a new position quickly”, he informed him. It was a mistake that he had seen a lot of beginners make. They seemed to insist on gripping their sword as tightly as they possibly could, as if they were afraid of losing it.
Zasalamir’s attack itself, he decided, was not badly executed though. Against a less skilled opponent he might even have been successful. The Mortalborn on the other hand quickly stepped forward and to the side, raised his sword and made a circular, horizontal cut, with his hands above his head so that Zasalamir’s sword would land on the strong of his blade, and he threatened to strike his opponent’s head. “This move is called the Cross Strike”, he pointed out and made a step back. “It is used to defend one’s head.”
“You are not as clueless as I had feared”, he admitted which was as close to a compliment as Zasalamir would ever get from him. “I will attack you now. I want you to try and parry my attack – and then make a counter-attack. It is never enough to simply defend yourself. If you do that, the fight will go on forever, and you will eventually tire out. If you want to win, every defense must already be made with an attack in mind. Always remember that if you don’t want to lose your life.”
Without another warning he attacked. The attack that he made was fairly straightforward. He saw no point in confronting a beginner with a more complicated move as he would be unlikely to be able to parry. He would likely just grow frustrated and not learn anything. He made a step forward, towards Zasalamir and thrust his sword towards the man’s torso.
"Very well, I'll keep that in mind when ever I draw this blade." He spoke, following the man's instructions. He began to see the colors of the swordmaster, the hues of magenta and red. He was both irritated and aggravated. Raising a brow Zasalamir couldnt help but wonder why these emotions surrounded the man. What did he do to cause these colors to permeate Doran like this? In any case he couldnt worry about it now, hearing his instructors' words and mentally simulating his move. He saw several renditions of how this would go. After seeing the best viable option, he was prepared. Seeing his next possible move, he was ready. Watching as Doran came at him, he timed his defending parry at the right moment. The sound of metal scrapping against metal rang in the air as Zasa stepped forward to the left, bringing his blade up to defend against Doran's blade. Continuing on the upward swing of his blade, he would continue the path the swing was which was poised to slice Doran's with a diagonal slash, bisecting the man from his left shoulder to his right hip.
The Mortalborn inclined his head, thus letting Zasalamir know that he approved of the attack that he had made, before he made his next move. The mortal was aiming for his torso, and thus Doran quickly stepped off to the side and forward in order to get out of the way of the oncoming attack. At the same time that he did that he struck diagonally downwards, using the strong of his blade, in order to intercept Zasalamir’s weapon and finally aimed for his head, an attack that would likely be familiar to the mortal since he had tried the same before.
“This”, he explained and raised a hand, thus signaling Zasalmir to stop fighting for a moment. “Is called The Strike of Wrath. It is used to defend one’s torso. You may have noticed that I didn’t simply move backwards when you attacked. Doing such will only result in your opponent following you. I also used the strong of my blade as the weak of my blade would easily have been pushed away. There is more that you need to keep in mind if you want to win though”, he remarked and paused for a moment in order to give Zasalmir some time to think about what he had just said before he continued in a cool and matter-of-fact tone.
“You must never hesitate. If you hesitate, even if it is just for one moment, you will die. Your opponent will not wait for you to decide what kind of attack you want to make. Everything that I teach you will have to become second nature to you. Always lead with the sword and follow with the body rather than the other way round. This will make it easier for you to aim. Furthermore, it is imperative that you build up your strength and endurance, otherwise you will not last long. I can show you a few exercises if you want me to”, he offered.
“But first”, he spoke and nodded at his sword that was still aimed at Zasalamir’s head. “Defend yourself.”
