Magnus Chase (
summerdude) wrote2023-10-24 12:34 pm
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Jack Puts Me Through My Paces [open post]
"SeƱor, 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.
(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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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...?"
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"I think," he says cautiously, "you could start, and I'll follow."
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(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.)
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*It's the adrenaline.
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He takes his stance, waiting.
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"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.
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He waits for a moment before realizing Magnus is waiting for him, and obligingly makes his own attack. The effect is more or less the same as the last two times. Perhaps the most notable thing is that he moves with none of Sagramore's grace; his actions are purposeful, a means to an end.
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Magnus watches Galahad as he approaches, trying to get a sense of how Galahad is so unfathomably good at this. Magnus isn't a genius at the sword, but he's also no slouch, at this point. He can modestly hold his own in most situations even without letting Jack take on most of the burden of the fight.
He can feel his training sword start to wrest itself from his grip. He has a fleeting thought: Aw, my new super cool friend is going to think I'm totally lame.
This time, when he summons the Peace of Frey, his cool alf seidr move that flings all weapons within a thirty foot radius outside of that zone, he doesn't mean to do it. He feels a burning need to do something to keep from losing immediately, and then the burning feeling is rushing outside of his body, enveloping him in heat and flowing outward. Twice in one day is a lot on a guy. His nose starts bleeding again, much more obviously than it did when he showed this neat trick off for Lan Wangji. One of his molars falls out, and his eardrum pops with the pressure coursing through him.
He spits his tooth onto the ground and wipes his nosebleed away again. Already he can feel his body sluggishly healing from the shockwave he just emitted: he'll have a new tooth by the morning, and his nose is recalibrating quickly. The scratch on the palm of his hand from the force with which his training sword jerked out of his own hand, too, is raw, new skin quickly.
"Shit, dude, I'm so sorry," Magnus says, once his ability to words returns to him. He glances around. His training sword seems to have glanced against one of the decorative rocks outside so hard that something got chipped. "I did not mean to pull that on you without warning."
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"What happened?"
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He's pretty sure he looks extremely stupid. Ah, well. "It seemed to be something like this," he says, trying the move again. "But it was so fast. Do you think you could go through the motions more slowly, or is it just a skill you have when you're in actual combat?" To an undead demigod with a magical sword, both of these seem like totally reasonable possibilities.
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