Let's Train in 100 Times Gravity

[shineinside]

Who: Anyone who wants to come by! Tag in, thread with Yuka, thread with each other, whatever you want.
What: Combat training/practice.
When: Sunset, each night for a week minimum.
Where: East end of Islet 1.
Warnings: Possible blood if things get out of hand, implied 80s training montage songs

Yuka chose this location because the ground was level, there was enough space for people to move around, and nobody was really using it for anything else. No wild beasts, no fish people to disturb, no strange psychological effects... the ideal place for people to gather for an hour or two and get some good-natured fighting in. The snow on the ground wasn't ideal, she supposed, but that stuff was everywhere, so they'd just have to make do. It'd probably be snowing during the invasion, anyway.

Each evening, as the sun inched towards the horizon, Yuka set her other tasks aside to come out and wait. Jug of wassail sitting at the edge of the space, bundled in warm clothes and scarves, Yuka paced, wondering if this was really going to be worth the time. Are there people willing to spend that much time to train others when there's so much else that needs doing? Can someone even learn enough to make a difference in this little time? For that matter, are these shadow monsters something you can even fight with your fists? If nothing else, it would be good to do some physical activity in just to get her mind to stop going in circles.

For those who arrived early, there would be less to do, but even just talking through what different fighting skills people had would be useful for later on. Once more people arrived, those who use similar weapons could work together, and those with more combat experience could work with those with less. Or, people who know each other or are curious about each other's abilities could seek each other out for a sparring match.

So: Fight, teach, learn, take breaks, drink, chat. Bring your own wassail if you can - Yuka's can only stretch so far.

Comments

[hyperlit]

Pursue they do, though not recklessly. That, the Drifter can appreciate. They are observant, too, taking care to note their opponent's motions before streaking forward with their weapon cleaving neatly through the air.

The Drifter does not anticipate a feint; most, where they come from, may occasionally telegraph their attacks, or be particularly adept at evading the Drifter's own, but very few employ purposeful deception. Such strategies are so few and far between that it catches them off guard.

The Knight's weapon lands a blow on the Drifter's shin. Immediately, they skip backward to regroup.

[lightlessfuture]

They're almost surprised themselves to have landed a hit, but any potential savouring of their small triumph doesn't last long. They press their advantage, dashing towards the Drifter and holding their swing to release a fierce strike; the arc of it is bigger than their normal attacks.

They don't stay dashing forward for long. They skip to the side, retreating again, always mobile. It seems they don't prefer to be stuck in one place too long if they can help it.

[hyperlit]

Like them, the Knight has access to a wider pool of attacks than their simple arsenal would imply. The Drifter recognizes the necessity to hold still to charge a blow in order to strike harder, wider. If they'd been incorrect in that assumption, doubtless there would be consequences to pay.

The movement is easier for them to chart in its familiarity, and the cyan of their blade whips upward with the intention to parry. It is not often that they effect this sort of direct measure, preferring instead of evade and strike when there is an adequate window.

But they wish to see what happens when one or both of them elects to stand their ground.

[lightlessfuture]

Blade meets blade with a surprisingly small ting; the knight doesn't hesitate or attempt to withdraw their blow. If nothing else, they have to commit to the attack, and they have scarce space in combat for faltering.

But the knockback of the parry drives them back enough that they stumble and fall over backwards as they land, sending up a puff of snow. They have to take a moment to recalibrate themselves, it seems, even without sustaining an injury. It might be comical.

But they're ready for anything once they get back to their feet again! It's fine, they're okay. They brandish their sword fiercely to indicate how Ready they are.

[hyperlit]

Resilient, fast, adaptable - they can acknowledge a warrior’s fierceness despite their diminutive size. The Knight is admirably swift in recovering from the stonewall, even if those precious moments it takes to recover leaves a fraction of a window.

If this were not some sparring session, perhaps the Drifter would have drawn their railgun to see how the Knight would contend with a ranged weapon. But ammunition is limited, and it does not do to waste it here.

Instead, they press a new offensive, shooting forward to slam several successive swipes of their blade in the Knight’s direction.