( open )

[beknight]

Who: bruce wayne (beknight) & various others.
What: it's the eye of the tiger.
When: after this network post!
Where: the dojo
Warning(s): violence! more will be added if needed.

accompanying log for sparring training.

Comments

[valcurie]

[ ooc: continued from here ]

( Mercy'd arrived sometime in the early afternoon, dressed rather inconscipisouly in just a black camisole and leggings. This got her a lot less attention than her suit had, with its pristine white armour and its rich umber-orange nanoweave accents. Not to mention the wings and Latin motto that gave some people a reason for a second look. As she was now, she was just an average-sized woman, a bit on the willowy side, unremarkable except for perhaps her blonde hair, if one had an eye for that. Otherwise, she was completely normal.

As for the mystery challenger, Alan--she had no idea. It was amusing, though and even a little exciting. Once she'd asked for him and grabbed a staff, she was shown to a room, where she's prepared to wait if need be. This test is important to her, for her own personal enrichment. Just in case he happens to be waiting, though, she asks as she enters: )

Hello?

[beknight]

[ The room is well-lit, in warm, earthy tones, smells distinctly of a local wood they use for the floor. ]

In here.

[ Bruce wanders over to the weapons rack to put down the pair of escrima sticks he had been using before this. He wipes his hands on the towel before approaching her with a polite smile. ]

Pleasure to meet you. I'm Alan.

[valcurie]

( She's already got her weapon in hand, a basic quarterstaff. Obviously she finds it somewhat unwieldy, evident in the way she almost positions herself around it. It's at least two feet longer than what she's used to.

When he approaches, she sets down the staff and looks him over. More out of habit than anything, she has a doctor's eyes, and a soldier's too, trained to detect flaws and strengths and potential injuries. Smiling, she holds out her own hand. No sweat to wipe off yet. )

Likewise. I'm Angela Ziegler. I'm also known as Mercy out in the field, but usually I'm not the one doing the fighting. ( She's supposed to be the medic, not the soldier. Whether he shakes her hand or not she'll dip her head a bit, the sigh and smile that follow both ironically self-aware. ) But don't give me a handicap because of that. I want constructive criticism. I don't want to waste your time.

sorry for the delay! router issues

[beknight]

[ There's a knife wound in the shoulder he's been displaying as a target for sparring partners, a subtle weakness for them to zero in on. It's healed over. The rest of him is long conditioned to withstand pain, and there's no whisper of injury. He is fairly worn out due to the people coming, but it's a pleasant fatigue. As much as he can be, he's in a good mood. ]

[ He shakes her hand firmly. ]

Even a medic might have to defend themselves. [ A lot of them in his world carried guns, he's not surprised. War is an ugly thing. ] Let's start slow, shall we?

np, hope they got fixed!

[valcurie]

( She herself is uninjured as of now, less than well-rested but she carries herself with good posture and weight distribution. Holdovers from her time training as a soldier also show in the lines of her shoulders and the fluidity of the efficient movements that take her back into a defensive stance. )

Something I am familiar with. Though with better technology. ( Her foot slides out in front of her, and she cuts the target she presents to him down to slim silhouette of her side. ) Of course. It's only fair if I get a warm up too! ( But her experience is more reactionary reflexes, so she'll wait to see how he engages. )

not yet but here's hoping

[beknight]

[ There is always a war, as he's learning. The pattern to those awakening first is most of them can handle it, the rest — he's not sure. Nobody he's met seems especially incapable. As a team, they organised themselves at the camp. ]

Shall we?

[ True to his word, it's slow, he telegraphs his strike. Just meaning to put her on the defensive. ]

[valcurie]

( She nods in response, a trace of a smile on her face as she steps backwards, appreciating that he's so accommodating of her.

The strike is easy enough to parry, and she pushes it up and away from her, working to maintain distance so he cannot close in on her with a second follow-up strike. With this distance she attempts to side-step him, where she would normally go to pull out her gun. )