nuadasvengence: (silverlance action)
There was a certain peace in preparing for war. In his long life he had spent all but the first 200 years becoming the warrior the Fae needed. In the last two thousand years he pushed himself harder, longer, becoming the best... and the last Warrior Elf.

As was his custom he had stripped his shirt and left on his leather bracers protecting against strikes at his wrists.

He used a long bow stick and a a bamboo short sword held above the cross-guard to manage the best approximation of his lance. The shortened version was what he worked with now. In his mind he recalled battles past. He envisioned four humans in the old armor, the time of Arturia. The steel in their hands being as dangerous as the elf silver was to them.

He spun hos shortlance in a figure eight movement before slicing at an invisible opponent to his left before performing a jumping spin that would force multiple opponents back or slit their throats. He felt slow. He knew he was still faster than a human but he was still moving as if against a current. He scowled even as he landed still twisting to slice open the gut of an enemy standing to the right of where he started. His hair whipped about, fooling others into thinking it would blind him, but in fact it kept others from seeing where he was looking and unable to guess his next target.

He dropped onto his shoulder and lifted his legs into the air, kicking out in a spin as he placed his body beneath normal weapon strike and still did kicking damage before rolling into a stance on the balls of his feet.

He ran to the wall and two steps up it pushing himself in a stabbing leap. He should be able to make six steps up the wall and make a flip over an enemy's head, but the lack of strength and speed cut that from his repertoire.

He was in a place with little thought, just the pushing of muscle and ligament of his entire body to it's current limits. His weapon was an extension of himself, not a separate thing. His movement as fast as he could now manage. With the battle he imagined inside his head he became unaware of anything around him that was not in his way.

He was somewhat at peace.

Date: 2012-05-24 12:52 pm (UTC)From: [personal profile] mustbetuesday
mustbetuesday: (pic#)
Buffy takes a pretty typical circuit in the mornings and almost always ends up in the sparring room. Old habits. It's usually empty, though, and while she doesn't mind a little solo routine on the mats, she always gets a little more out of working against a partner - and someone who isn't in danger of being kicked clear across the room.

Barring that, she's not even sure she possesses those capabilities anymore. The rate at which she normally heals almost feels as though it's been cut in half, and she can already feel that something is just off overall, but she's not exactly going to walk up to someone and ask if she can punch them in the face to check.

The sound of movement from within the sparring area tells her that she isn't the only one here this time, and while curiosity has her poking her head in further to investigate, caution is what keeps her hovering in the doorway, keeping her distance. The guy in here doesn't look like any demon she's familiar with - and she's had seven-going-on-eight years of practice under her belt. Given their current location, though, alien's always a possibility. Either way, she's not particularly inclined to get too close until she knows who she's dealing with - and that sword looks pointy enough to do some damage if she catches him unawares.

In the end, she stands calmly and watches, waiting, until he finishes going through the motions of whatever routine he's practicing.

Date: 2012-05-24 02:48 pm (UTC)From: [personal profile] mustbetuesday
mustbetuesday: (waiting patiently.)
"I know enough not to catch someone wielding something that sharp off-guard," Buffy evenly replies. She's graduated to leaning against the doorframe now, her arms loosely folded across her front, though she's not as relaxed as she might appear. There's tension in her shoulders, her legs, that constant and consistent decision to remain in a position where she'll easily be able to defend herself if it comes to that. For the time being, she's not getting the kill kind of vibe from this guy, but appearances are always deceiving. Most people tend to underestimate her before she does something that completely obliterates their first impressions.

"I like what you did with the wall there, though," she adds, motioning with an index finger to the one that he'd taken the running leap off of before she tucks her hand back in against her arm. "Very - stabby."

When she finally takes a step into the room, her hands go to her sides, lightly resting on her hips.

"I've got to admit, I didn't think anyone else was using these. You're the first per - you're the only one I've seen here. Then again, I've only been here a couple days, but waiting is so not my forte."

Date: 2012-05-24 03:13 pm (UTC)From: [personal profile] mustbetuesday
mustbetuesday: (you keep saying that word.)
"Far be it from me to judge what a guy spends his time doing," Buffy replies, holding both hands up in a defensive movement until she lets them fall back down to her sides. "Is 'guy' okay? I'm trying to be PC here, and probably kind of failing. But, hey, person. We can stick to person."

She breathes out a laugh, tilting her head to one side. "It's no exaggeration to say that I had two left feet at my senior prom, but that's probably because I was dancing with a few devil-dogs beforehand. The animal, not the delicious chocolatey snack."

Date: 2012-05-24 10:48 pm (UTC)From: [personal profile] mustbetuesday
mustbetuesday: (slayer comma the.)
"Nuada it is, then," Buffy declares, trying to offer as agreeable an expression as she possibly can. She's not in the habit of making enemies at first convo - even if some of her long-dusted foes would try to claim otherwise. In the end, though, they'd really been the ones who'd started it. "Oh, no, these were the kind that this guy was breeding in his basement. Real unfriendly types. He was going to unleash them to do as much damage as possible to the kids that had made fun of him in high school." And he nearly would've gotten away with it too, if it hadn't been for her and her crossbow and a quick change outfit to make it in just in time for the third dance.

She's being sized up. She gets it. It's probably easy to tell that she's doing the same thing, lifting her chin to counter for the obvious height difference between them, since he has her beat by nearly a full foot. Size matters not, though, and she doesn't just have the musings of Master Yoda to thank for that. She has experience, everyone who's ruled her out because she's vertically challenged, but no one ever said she couldn't fight in a pair of heels. Which she has, for the record.

"One of those three-headed dogs, you mean? Nah, but I haven't ruled it out as a possibility," she admits, shrugging casually. Maybe there's a Hellmouth in Greece, or Rome, or wherever these creatures are supposed to be from originally. She takes a few more rounding steps, moving in a wide circle around the edge of the mats. Gauging her position.

"I take it you're not talking about the two-step," she quips.

Date: 2012-05-25 02:11 am (UTC)From: [personal profile] mustbetuesday
mustbetuesday: (people in masks cannot be trusted.)
"High school," Buffy echoes, her gaze following his movements, seemingly without blinking. "But, obviously, that was about a lifetime ago - in dog years." She brings her arms down from their crossed position to her sides, though they're still bent halfway at the elbow, automatically rising into a defensive movement before she chooses to pretend to stretch instead, winding one arm back behind her head and giving her elbow a small tug.

"I'm no stranger to wooden objects," she adds, nodding towards the rack tucked against the wall. She strides over to procure one for herself, a bow staff similar to his but slightly shorter in height to be a little bit easier to wield by someone of her stature. That being said, she's pretty sure she can inflict the same amount of damage. Maybe. His moves had been pretty impressive, and she's still feeling a little wonky after yesterday.

"Fae, huh? Is that what you are?" she asks, taking a moment to tie her hair back and away from her face, a few lone strands slipping down to brush her cheeks as she turns to grab her staff, returning towards the center of the mats. She might appear to be moving casually, but there's nothing casual about it, and she meets his eyes without flinching.

"Well, having a sacred calling comes with the handy-dandy addition of knowing how to wield a lot of weapons - and a lot of other perks besides."

Date: 2012-05-25 11:06 am (UTC)From: [personal profile] mustbetuesday
mustbetuesday: (new chief of staff.)
"Well, they're usually the kind that work best on staking vampires through the heart," she replies. "Remember the whole sacred calling bit? Ridding the world of demons, it's sort of my full-time gig." It's why she's attempted to have several part-time jobs with limited success; pretty soon she'd just had to grow up and accept the fact that slaying is going to be her life, from now until whenever that one enemy gets the jump on her. She's not anticipating to die old in her bed.

Both her eyebrows rise when he introduces himself by full title. "Oh, a prince? A prince who wields swords. Guess that fits the stereotype a little. As for your greater range theory, I've got to make sure I inform you that I'm a little more than human too." If the First Slayer is to be believed, dreads and all, she's even got a little demon blood in her, but that's the part she doesn't like to think about all that often, 'cause eww.

She's not going to dwell on that now, though, not when he's literally sending smoke signals her way and holding up a big neon sign that screams attack me. He's probably trying to gauge whether or not she'll be a worthy opponent. Whatever. She can start slow, maybe slip a surprise move in here and there just to keep him on his toes. She picks up the staff in both hands and swings it up in an arc, bringing it down toward his head and knowing he'll raise his own to counter.

Date: 2012-05-26 10:17 pm (UTC)From: [personal profile] mustbetuesday
mustbetuesday: (on the hunt.)
"That's never stopped me before," Buffy promises, with a flick of her head as he mentions more than one dimension. She's spent her fair share of time in a few, though she's had to counter for the fact that one day in a hell dimension amounts to a fair share of weeks in another. Thankfully, that one time in LA she'd only been there for a few hours, and she'd been doing her whole ode to Kerouac long before that.

Her reflexes are one of the things that's felt a little less-than-normal - normal for a Slayer's standards, anyway - but they're still faster than your average human's, and that means that when he swings to bring the end of his staff underneath in a low swoop, trying to sweep her feet, she's prepared, using the end of the staff to propel herself upward.

"It's been known to help from time to time," she agrees, turning the staff over in a faster movement, testing him a little harder this time.

Date: 2012-05-28 01:04 pm (UTC)From: [personal profile] mustbetuesday
mustbetuesday: (scythe matters.)
The staff is a little more cumbersome to wield, but she's able to come up with one end to spare her shoulder from being rapped on, even if the shockwave it sends down her arm stings a little. That's new. Rather than deter her from another move, it only serves to spur her on into counterattack, spinning out and away in a wide loop as she aims the staff for his back.

"Having a little traveler's regret?" Buffy deduces, going off of the tone in his voice. "Some dimensions are overrated, trust me."

Date: 2012-05-31 01:35 pm (UTC)From: [personal profile] mustbetuesday
mustbetuesday: (pic#)
Buffy's one of those fighters that sort of manages to pick up any style that's thrown at her. Just another one of those pluses in the chosen destiny column, right alongside the ability to dodge - usually. The blow catches her in the hip, not enough to knock the breath out of her but definitely enough to stagger her for a little, and the expression on her face makes it plain that she's surprised by the hit to begin with, her reflexes normally enough to make a clean jump out of the way more than easy.

"Speaking as one who just managed to save her world and still wound up here - the feeling's about the same," she replies, once she's caught her breath a little, winding backwards to give herself some room to recover before she tries another move, using the staff in an attempt to sweep low towards his legs.

Date: 2012-05-31 07:03 pm (UTC)From: [personal profile] mustbetuesday
mustbetuesday: (pic#)
"Chalk one up in the board in the Elven likeability column," Buffy declares, reduced to similarly measured breathing, a light sheen of sweat on her arms and the back of her neck, causing a few stray pieces of hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail to stick to her skin. She gently set one end of the staff down on the ground, holding it in one hand almost like a walking stick, her lips already quirking with amusement.

"It's been a while since I took on a worthy opponent," she admits, her hand shifting its grip on the staff as she approached him again. Standing at this proximity, it's easy to see how he dwarfs her, something that had been less apparent when they'd both been in motion, but standing still her vertically-challenged state tends to be more obvious.

"To be honest, I'm a little disappointed none of my friends are here to meet you. I can think of one who'd probably be dying to. He really goes for learning about other cultures," she adds, thinking of Giles, and then on Xander as she says: "Then again, my other friend - his impression of elves is pretty much limited to the kind that live in a tree and make cookies."

Date: 2012-06-04 01:36 am (UTC)From: [personal profile] mustbetuesday
mustbetuesday: (getting all explainy.)
"Well, half of it is corporate America needing some kind of cutesy mascot to sell their cookies," Buffy replies, shrugging both shoulders. Somehow she feels the need to explain herself, or at least backtrack briefly in order to make it plain and clear that she doesn't have much in her world to compare it to, Keebler or otherwise.

"You're actually the first, uh - one of you that I've ever met, in case that wasn't already clear," she adds, taking the towel he offers her but not using it, gathering it between her hands and turning it end over end. She's only mildly dewy with sweat, and after a beat, she slings it around the back of her neck, gripping each side of it.

"Oh. Well, we do things on the West Coast a little differently, but then again, we usually don't get snow around that time of year, so there isn't much to do aside from put up the mandatory tree and choose between whether star or angel goes on the top." She pauses, gauging the situation, and then takes a seat on the bench next to him, keeping a respectful distance.

"Sorry. Half the time, people think a Slayer is just a heavy metal band, so I sort of understand where you're coming from, even if I don't know the whole story."

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nuadasvengence: (Default)
Prince Nuada Silverlance

July 2012

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