summerdude | Jack Puts Me Through My Paces [open post]

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Jack Puts Me Through My Paces [open post]

"Señor, you really should practice more," Jack says, as Magnus rearranges his mental notes and sighs.

(Anyone else might think Magnus is just lying back on a bench on the grounds, staring at the sky, lost in thought. And technically, he is. But he's working hard!!! He's trying to sort out everyone he's encountered so far!!!)

"You're right," Magnus groans. Being in a weird Mansion with no way out, no established Battle Practice, and no pressing quests to go on is not an excuse to let his limited fighting skills fall by the wayside. He hauls himself upright and shoves his (still largely blank) notebook into his backpack.

Twenty minutes later, he's secured a practice sword from some random closet or another in the Mansion. It's dull steel, not sentient, and heavy in his hands.

"Perfect," Jack decides, so Magnus tramps back out to the spacious lawn, one sword in each hand. Checking to make sure no one is directly in harm's way, he releases Jack and brings the dull training sword up, ready to parry whatever attack Jack decides to throw at him.

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Galahad tilts his head. "It was in a stone in a river, and I drew it," and he smiles slightly at how trivial that is, especially in the face of a singing, sentient sword. Then, remembering, he straightens up. "It's here. I found it a month ago, and--"

"Wait, Excalibur?!" says Magnus, whose grasp of Arthurian legend is limited at best. There was something about a sword in a stone, or maybe a sword in a lake, and this seems to fit both possibilities?

He laughs, which startles him. "No. Excalibur is the king's sword. It was drawn from an anvil. My sword is the Sword with the Red Hilt."

"Ahhh, I see," says Magnus, who doesn't, really. "Sword with the Red Hilt, huh? Let me guess. Its hilt is red."

"Bound in red leather," he agrees. "I remember where I put it."

Magnus glances at Jack, who seems to have settled down. He's hovering at a distance -- they both know that when Magnus picks him up again, Magnus will pass out, or at least get extremely exhausted instantaneously -- but not wiggling around or singing anymore.

"Oh, cool," he says. It sounds like they're going to go on a sword hunt. Jack, at least, will be thrilled. "Did you bring it with you, then? What kind of stuff does it do, besides float in rocks in rivers? And -- okay, this is going to sound like such a weird question, but there's a point, I promise: Do you happen to know its gender?"

It's too many questions all at once, and Galahad freezes -- he'd been halfway to his feet, and rather than answer Magnus he says nothing, just gives him a blank look before turning to go back to the mansion.

"I only wanted to know because Jack is a huge flirt," Magnus calls after Galahad. He assumes he's invited along on this hunt? But maybe he's not?

He decides to hoist himself up and follow Galahad anyway.

It takes him a little while to dredge up the memory of where he hid the Sword with the Red Hilt, but he remembers the general area: once inside, he's able to locate it fairly quickly.

Unlike Sagramore's two-handed greatsword, the Sword with the Red Hilt is a one-handed sidearm, lighter and more versatile (it would be called a knightsword, if Magnus had a great familiarity with old-fashioned weapons). Galahad wasn't entirely sure if it would still cleave to him the way it did when he was the Grail Knight, but it does: as with Laertes' rapier, it fits perfectly into his hand, an extension of his body.

He's no longer Laurel, and it no longer frightens him to wield it so easily. He was born to this; he's been used to this since he first came to Camelot at sixteen. He tests the weight of the Sword to make sure it feels right: it does.

To Magnus it must look very ordinary, except for the deep red leather that wraps the hilt.

"The aura on this thing," Jack swoons, flying close and spinning around his own axis as he takes in the Sword with the Red Hilt. "Oooh baby, I bet you could do some damage on the battlefield."

Magnus glances at Jack, who rarely remarks on weaponry's auras -- not since Skofnung, if Magnus remembers it correctly, so that's -- concerning, maybe. Then he glances back at Galahad, who looks very much like he's come home by picking the sword up.

"Looks like it was made for you," he says, carefully.

"It was Balin's before me." He tests it again, letting the blade weave in the air, then sheaths it. Unlike the scabbard for Sagramore's greatsword, this one wasn't made for the weapon. It's decent, but not a perfect fit. Galahad cocks his head at Magnus. "Do you want to?"

"To... what? Spar?"

He nods.

"Hell yeah," Magnus says. He glances at the sword again. It's a beautiful specimen, truly, and he'd love to wield Jack in fighting it, but if he takes hold of Jack now, he will pass out. Training sword it is, then. "Back outside?"

Galahad nods again, and follows him.

Once outside, Magnus grips his training sword firmly in hand. He's starting to get a little tired, even with the energy bars he snacked on between earlier bouts, so he doesn't do anything flashy with it, like try to start with his non-dominant right hand or anything.

He takes a swig of water from his bottle and then straightens to face Galahad. "How do you want to do this?" he asks. "Just... go for it, or...?"

He hesitates, halfway through putting the scabbard aside. He doesn't, actually, know how he does this. He never trains. It's a gift from God, this ability, and it comes to him like breathing -- his body knows what to do to and he just is.

"I think," he says cautiously, "you could start, and I'll follow."

"Till one of us says uncle, or till first blood, or...?"

(Magnus should have, perhaps, asked the others this question, too. But Galahad looks to be closer in age to Magnus, and has the vibe of someone who will take the bout more seriously, rather than -- potentially -- thinking of it as a fun little round with a guy who looks, comparatively, like a kid. Plus, since Magnus is getting tired, it's a good reminder to himself that he's working to a particular end rather than going all-out.)

"Till disarm?" he suggests.

"Perfect," Magnus says, and immediately attacks. It's the same careful opening he's made a few times now, a way to gauge how his partner will respond so he can get a sense of how hard to counter after their opening play.

Galahad disarms him. It's over-simple because it's over-simple: the sword is his body and he knows how to act in the same way he knows to use his hands to pick something up.

"What the eff," Magnus breathes. He shakes his arm out and goes to retrieve his sword. Somehow, his exhaustion has vanished^*. "Gods. Wow. Okay. That was so cool. Best two out thr-- no, you'll win that immediately for sure, too. Three out of five?"

*It's the adrenaline.

He nods again. The thing is, it's so easy to do this, even if it's something he's never really cared about very much. It's easy and he always knows when he's done it right; there's no guesswork. There are no questions, and no talking. It's the easiest thing he can do with another person.

He takes his stance, waiting.

Magnus glances around the environment for a long moment, sizing up his options as he adjusts his grip on his sword to something a little firmer. He's pretty sure he'll have to take a creative approach to have a chance at winning -- while he'd given Galahad an easy opening, he's never been beaten that quickly before. There's not a... lot he can use? But he does still have all his einherji abilities.

"Here goes nothin'," he mutters, and backs away from Galahad a few paces. Then, he summons all his strength and takes a running leap... over Galahad's head. Maybe with the element of surprise and attacking from behind, he can turn the tide in his favor.

He lands squarely on his feet. Twisting mid-air got him angled more toward Galahad than when he started his jump, but he's still not looking directly at the other guy, so he spins on his heels, shifting into an attack stance as he does so. He lunges, as quickly and quietly as he can.

Galahad turns to meet him, and efficiently disarms him again.

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