fandomhigh | Interdisciplinary Studies or whatever, Class 3, Friday, Period 3

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Interdisciplinary Studies or whatever, Class 3, Friday, Period 3

Today, Squall was waiting in the Danger Room, which was set up to look like... A big empty room. How imaginitive. He was leaning against the wall near the door, half-asleep.

"You," he said, pointing at Ronan once everyone had assembled. "Today's your lucky day. I decided I don't care about the detention, so don't bother with it." He shrugged. "Unless you went last weekend, in which case I hope you learned your lesson."

He smirked. "In fact, you're doubly lucky, because today we're taking your suggestion and learning how to use a sword." He smacked a button on the wall beside him and a table materialized into being a few yards away. A very BIG table, laden with one of just about every type of weapon you can imagine that consisted of a handle on one end and a blade longer than a foot or two on the other. Except for a gunblade. The only one of those in the room was resting against the wall next to Squall.

"So," Squall said, walking over to the table and picking up a claymore. "Blade. Hilt. Pommel. Crossguard." He pointed to each part in turn. Some swords have one edge, some have two. Some don't have an edge, which makes them stupid. Some you use one-handed, some you use two-handed, some you can use either way. Some are curved, some are straight, and the hilts can come in just about any design you can think of."

He dropped the claymore again and went back for his gunblade. "You have two basic attacks -- slash or slice with the edge, or else thrust with the point." He demonstrated, with a grin. "The rest is just finesse."

He pointed at the table. "You're in the Danger Room, and all the safeguards are on. Have at it."

[~~Wait for OCD~~ Go on, have your way with the post.]

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...

Jenny Sparks

Abigail Whistler

Ronan Nolan

Take notes, talk, scratch your butt, whatever.

Choose a sword and swing it around.

Also, maybe ask Squall to teach you something useful about them.

Swords! Jenny picked up a wicked looking scimitar and swung it around a bit, narrowly missing chopping her own ponytail off.

"Mesmerize blade," Squall grunted. "Nice choice. Be more careful with it, though."

Abigail hadn't worked much with swords, but she couldn't resist the call of shiny pointy things.

Squall nodded in approval.

Ronan surreptitiously rolled his eyes at the lack of detention, but he was drawn to the OOOHSHINY of the pointy objects. He came over and examined them before picking up a claymore. He adjusted quickly for the weight of it, and stepped away a bit from his classmates to give it a few practice swings. He grinned, pleased with the choice.

Squall nodded. Ronan looked like a claymore kind of guy.

"You ever used one of those before?" he asked.

Ronan shook his head. "My only real experience is with a spear," he replied, "and not so much with physical fighting, at that. But this..." He brandished the sword. "This feels good."

(Okay, maybe the kid's not a total ass.)

"Damn straight," Squall said.

He dropped into a fighting stance, with his gunblade up in a defensive position. "Show me what ya got."

Ronan looked down the length of the sword a moment, and then sent a prayer to the Powers. Surely he'd retained something of swords from the One's Champion?

"Learn by doing, then?" he asked, and settled into an approximation of a fighting stance before lashing out with a swipe to Squall's side.

"Best way," Squall grunted, and easily knocked Ronan's swipe away. "Try again, and don't suck this time. If I'm not bleeding, you did it wrong."

Ronan grinned wryly. "Sure, insult the ability of the guy who's never done this before." But he did try again, this time with an easily blockable strike, and the intention to follow through on the backswing after that strike was blocked.

(OOC: Mind if we finish this today? I fell asleep last night.)

"If I don't insult you," Squall grunted, as if this were some profound piece of wisdom, "you'll never learn."

"Very nice," he said, as narrowly avoided the backstroke. "You're a quick learner. Now try again." But instead of allowing Ronan to try again, he launched his own feint followed by a quick strike.

[Not at all!]

Ronan instinctively blocked the feint, and then narrowly managed to dodge the worst of the strike. He still ended up with a slice down his arm, blood trickling down to his hand. "Funny," Ronan said, ignoring the blood and repositioning himself to feint low and strike high, "I've always found positive reinforcement a better teaching method." But he was grinning as he said it, and there was no true insult intended. This time.

And then Squall was alternating between glaring at the rip in his leather jacket that blood was trickling out of and giving Ronan a pleased sort of grin.

"Teach many people, have you?" he asked.

Ronan grinned at the successful strike, but didn't let it distract him. Hey, he wasn't new to battle, just to swords. "Not so much, I guess, no, but I have had a wide variety of them over time. There is certainly a time and a place to be told that what you're doing is wrong or incorrect," and here he struck out again, trying to strike across Squall's torso, "but it's not worth anything if you never tell someone what they're doing right, too.

"Plus, if you get people to like you first, they'll feel worse when you're disappointed in them."

"..."

Squall blocked the strike, with a bit of effort.

"What you're doing right is picking up how to swing a sword fairly quickly," he said. "But what you're doing wrong is insulting the guy who's waving a sharp pointy thing at you."

He swung his gunblade with as much force as he could muster, trying to smack Ronan upside the head with the flat of the blade.

Even with the safeties? That really, really hurt. "Ow. Okay, I maybe kinda deserved that one." But Ronan was still grinning. "Thank you, though. The sword... kinda feels right."

He stepped back a bit, taking himself out of immediate weapon range, but not relaxing his guard just yet. "So, I don't imagine you expect to make us master in one class. How far do you want us to get?"

The safeguards are on, but Squall's messed with the program a bit so that you'll get plenty of realistic-looking blood from any hits. Because, really, it isn't any fun otherwise.

If you think you're up to it.

Or, you know, just talk to her. After she pings in.

Jenny wasn't actually any good with a sword, so you were probably better off sparring against her than Squall.

Talk to Squall after class.

"Sorry I wasn't here last week," Jenny said to Squall as she lit up a fresh cigarette. "My so-called guardian finally came through with that Barry Plodder book. And a fifth of gin."

((Which is to say, I abandoned the internets to avoid getting spoiled.))

Squall nodded imperceptibly. After all, he had spent his weekend the same way, not that he'd ever admit it. Except with tequila instead of gin.

"The book came out after my class was over," he pointed out.

"I got it early," Jenny explained with a shrug. "Though I was supposed to have had the thing a lot earlier than that." She wasn't pouting. Really. Except for how she totally was.

Got it early. Squall wasn't pouting either, really.

"Fine, then. You're excused."

"Ta," said Jenny. "I'll try to show up the rest of the time. Shouldn't be hard, I've already got to be up at early o'clock for Ethics."

Because Squall's here to save the world before it ends.

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Interdisciplinary Studies or whatever, Class 3, Friday, Period 3

Sign in

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During the lecture

SWORDS

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Spar with your classmates

Spar with Squall

Spar with the TA

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Be annoying

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OOC