Blade Waltz [Lore]

The decentralized lands of the Entente, and the bulk of the Empire.

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Degare
Posts: 301
Joined: Sun Feb 20, 2022 2:06 pm
Location: Boghadar, Verant, Daravin
Character Sheet: viewtopic.php?f=43&t=1754
Plot Notes: viewtopic.php?f=78&t=1800
Character Secrets: viewtopic.php?f=20&t=1775

Wed Mar 09, 2022 11:20 am

TIMESTAMP: Solace 7th, 4622 / 10:37
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It was a beautiful afternoon with clear skies over the mountainous city run through by ribbons of water. Within this picturesque place was Socorro manor, and walking its grounds at a languid pace was its master, Degare Socorro. Within the property was a rather lavish garden connecting the main manor, the valran and other servants' quarters, as well as the mage's own tower. The garden itself was almost more of a park with different sections depending on caretakers. Though much of it was kept by garden staff, there were some members of the house with green thumbs and a passion for flora. One would find plants of all types– lush greenery, bright, fragrant flowers, thorns and vines, plants of poison, and even some more monstrous looking exotic things. All were expertly taken care of by the loving hands that were assigned to them. Though the Ferrier himself was not one of them, he had ample appreciation for those with a more hands-on passion for botany.

However, on this day he had not emerged from his tower simply to observe the lovingly handled plantlife. Meandering through the manicured paths, the man makes it to a rather large pavilion in the center of the three main paths connecting the buildings. It was often used for entertainment or a gathering place for outdoor parties, but on this day there was only a small gathering of figures within it. Degare himself is someone who is often late to rise and slow to move, so it figures he would be the last to arrive. As polished leather shoes make contact with the well maintained wood of the pavilion, ruby-flecked amber eyes scan each of the already present figures. They included three valran and one other Veir. Two of his own Valran, a young man and woman with a penchant for blade work, alongside with a valran woman under the control of the other Veir. This Veir was Lore Corvane, a woman related to his parents by blood and him by his adoption into his house. She was human and rather young by comparison, the two sharing a bond more similar to uncle and niece than anything else.

Ever since a particular tragedy twenty years ago, Degare found it…difficult to connect with others. He'd watched the woman before him grow up, so for him, it was far easier to let his guard down around her since he didn't feel at all threatened. The elven mage greeted the group with a polite, simple bow– something that was far more courteous than a man of his standing would've been expected to do. When he rises, "Full glad am I you made the decision to visit and that your journey was safe," the elf speaks with a voice smooth like velvet. His long strides stopped when he had neared enough to the group and he rested his hands at his lower back before speaking again. "Tell me, how is House Corvane? Have you made any great strides with your bladework?" He asks these questions with a warm, interested tone.


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'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
word count: 589
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Lore
Posts: 7
Joined: Thu Feb 17, 2022 4:35 pm
Character Sheet: viewtopic.php?f=43&t=1743
Character Secrets: viewtopic.php?f=20&t=1760

Wed Mar 09, 2022 12:08 pm

LORE
Lore bowed back towards Degare when he arrived at the pavilion. She had yet to devise her sword; it was part of the show, part of the spar, and she wanted to show off for her favorite uncle. Degare shared her macabre fascination with death, and she always found a kinship with her uncle for this reason, a rare emotion for her to feel in general. As such, visiting him was hardly a chore. Lore usually wore dresses, but today she found it safe to wear pants and a fitted blouse — both black with gold trim, and covering her from neck to ankles, as was suitable for an Entente.

"The journey was safe. It was only a few hours." She closed her eyes and took a few meditative breaths. "Corvane is much the same. Not much news on the matter. As for my bladework..." Lore focused on the shape of her longsword. The slant of the steel and its smooth planes and sharp edges were visualized as much with her thoughts as her ether. It wasn't a complicated weapon, elegant in its simplicity, though the complexity grew when she reached the filigreed hilt, curves and curls of decorative, flowery metal that added no functionality but were as important to her as the blade itself. Even the blade itself was decorated with shallow engravings of blooming flowers.

It took only a few seconds for Lore to devise her sword. Her eyes fluttered open and she grabbed the hilt of the sword and dislodged it from her chest, pulling it out of her body as one might unsheathe a similar weapon. It appeared mostly mundane, but the delicate handle of it seemed to shine in the sun even while they stood in the shade. She had sparred with Adelita enough, so she gestured to Degare's male Valran. He stepped up, and they mirrored their positions, both holding longswords. Lore spared a glance towards Adelita for critique on her posture, but the Valran simply nodded, and her eyes returned to the Valran. She did not know his name, and while his sword was mundane and hers was not, she knew they should be similar in material strength.

Within a few seconds their swords were clashing, with Lore on the backstep and staring into the man's eyes. It was clear the man was more skilled than she. She pushed him back and, in that second of space, replicated her sword. The copy fell to the ground and split her focus between the sword in her hand and the sword that could now fight beside her. As she watched his eyes dash between her and the other sword to his side, she knew she was winning. The assault on two fronts meant the man crumpled, his struggle to focus on both the sword in her hand and the dancing sword she controlled remotely more and more obvious. What followed was a knick on both arm and cheek, and she pulled away with both.

"I have found most struggle to fight more than one person. Whether that is a failure by training or more personal, it can be remedied with practice." She addressed Degare, though her gaze still lay on the Valran. "Adelita is insistent on that lesson when we train."
word count: 570
User avatar
Degare
Posts: 301
Joined: Sun Feb 20, 2022 2:06 pm
Location: Boghadar, Verant, Daravin
Character Sheet: viewtopic.php?f=43&t=1754
Plot Notes: viewtopic.php?f=78&t=1800
Character Secrets: viewtopic.php?f=20&t=1775

Wed Mar 09, 2022 12:54 pm

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When the young Veir answered his questions, he smiled. The elven mage was happy to hear that the travel was easy, because though it was short, anything can happen in the blink of an eye. He was ever curious to hear about the theatrics of her house, and was a bit disappointed to hear nothing of import had occurred. Though he never really mentioned it to her because he figured it wasn’t entirely productive, he’d always assumed that her missing brother’s name would be whispered once more one day. Alive or dead, he knew not, but he did figure the lost son of a Corvane wouldn’t be lost to the wind forever. His expression was still pleasant overall despite this rather minor disappointment.

Bright, amber eyes light up when he sees his niece begin to cast. Honestly, he wasn’t the most familiar with Brand beyond its basic concepts, but the aesthetic and power it possessed interested him as much as any other school of magic. As she pulled the sword from her chest, he noted the blooming etchings laced over both the metal of the blade and the hilt. ‘Always had good taste, she did,’ he thinks to himself. As she and the male valran, a young man named Drazik, stepped into position, Degare bites the inside of his lip hard enough to draw blood. This was a subtle thing done simply because he had forgotten to do so earlier– he likes using his Corvo ability, shroud, just to make his figure fray at the edges or appear shadowy even in broad daylight. Though this would be a visible effect to others, he didn’t really care. If anyone asked, he always denied and claimed it was some form of hallucination on their end, or maybe some residual effect of his magics. Never did he give a proper answer and most did not have the audacity nor power to force the question. He had also forgotten if he’d ever bothered to give an explanation of any kind to his niece whose sharp eyes would be sure to notice this ethereal effect.

The two duelists stood opposed with well trained posture in both figures. Drazik, for his part, didn’t have any marks of power that would benefit him in a sword fight, but he was known to be exceptional with standard martial weaponry, especially that of the sword. This is why Degare chose him for this– he wanted those who would challenge his niece because he genuinely wanted to help her improve. As the duel began, the two danced with an elegant combination of finesse and fervor. In terms of raw swordsmanship, it appeared that Drazik had the upper hand. However, this is not the only thing that matters in the heat of combat. Lore’s quick thinking and creation of a second sword allowed her to tip the scales in her favor and resulted in her landing strikes on the valran.

When the two stepped away from one another, Degare approached the loser of the round and placed graceful hands over both wounds and began to channel ether into his fingertips. Ashes materialize out of the air and coalesce into a thick shell, binding them together with pallor after dashing away residual pathos with allay. Somebody with a more keen eye would note that there were echoes of intimacy present in his touch, though it wasn’t entirely clear to what capacity or if this meant anything at all.

These actions were wordless as he allowed his niece to speak. When she finishes, he replies, “You’d like to work on fighting against multiple foes then, hmmm? Well, there’s three valran here. I’m sure any would be happy to accommodate this for you. Simply pick your favorite duo, or perhaps all three…?” The last suggestion was floated more in jest, but if Lore were feeling particularly daring, he would not object. He was confident in his ability to bind wounds, at least.

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'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
word count: 738
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