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Your footwork is ATROCIOUS
Day 6 (Steve)
Dungeons and Dragons-Forgotten Realms

121 Posts
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Job: Bard
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Mike

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#1
The wound in his shoulder should have healed up in a matter of hours, but the thin magic on this world kept even his regeneration ring from working normally. It had taken a few days, but now, finally, he was doing well enough, and doing well enough meant that he had to test himself out. How would he do that? Well, one method had come to mind above all others.

During the brief melee they'd encountered on the road, Arjay had been given reason to reflect on the fact that Steve was, by all respects, an admirable battle companion. When Arjay had jumped into action to slay the vehicle that was pursuing them, Steve had (some might say in a move to steal his thunder) been right behind him, attacking those inside the car. However, it didn't escape Arjay's notice that, while armed with a weapon that offered so many ways to dispatch their enemies, the man resorted to crude brawling and bludgeoning. THis, naturally, wouldn't do.

This was why the men found themselves hiking to a reasonably secluded nearby woods, Arjay's swords and Steve's shield and rod in a pack that the elf carried over his shoulder. "The rules are simple," the elf said as they found themselves secluded among the trees. "Disarm me, beat me down, run me through, I really don't care how you do it, but you're going to use the rod in one of its forms, one of its forms that's meant to be a weapon, and not the shield to do it. Consider it an exercise in versatility." The elf drew the singing sword out, foregoing the holy sword for now, spinning the blade to the ready. "Gods, it feels good to be able to move this arm again. Give me an excuse to move it quite a lot now."
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Marvel-MCU

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Nyte

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#2
“Language!”

Luckily for Steve, the fire hadn’t done any real damage. Not physically, anyway, and even if it had, his healing wasn’t based on magic, but science, and science seemed to be alive and healthy here. It wasn’t quite the world that Steve knew and recognized, but it was close enough to it that the serum still seemed to be working just fine.

He’d separated away from the group a bit once they’d gotten to the hotel, in part because he needed to wrangle with the memory of the agony his mind had told him he’d been feeling, and in part because he had needed to come to terms with the fact that if magic could go sideways in a world, then it was possible that there was a world (probably more than one) in which the serum would not work, too. And that was unsettling in a different sort of way. Steve didn’t miss being small, not really. He had a body now that he could rely on, that didn’t get sick. That wouldn’t fall over with a stiff breeze. He didn’t miss the asthma attacks, the way a bruise took days, sometimes even a week, to fade, being sick all of the time… And it was frightening to think that he could have walked into this strong, and left sickly and frail. That he could have become a liability to his teammates here instead of an asset. That he could have hindered the quest. This was taking him longer to come to terms with than the fire; Steve had become accustomed to being one of the strong, and losing that…

The knock on the door was a good excuse to turn his mind away from the darker thoughts of ‘what if’ for the moment, and Steve took it gratefully. When Arjay had offered him a friendly spar, Steve had taken it; the elf was one hell of a fighter, with or without his magic, and Steve was always glad to stretch his muscles and learn something new.

Being instructed not to use his shield, though… Steve frowned thoughtfully at the weapon he was allowed. ‘Meant to be a weapon’ Arjay had said, and Steve knew what he meant, but… He preferred…

Preferences hadn’t kept him from learning how to shoot a gun, or using it when the moment required it. As Arjay had said, it was an exercise in versatility, and Steve wasn’t so overconfident that he didn’t know that he couldn’t afford not to learn something when the opportunity presented itself. “Alright.” Of all the possible forms that the rod could assume, Steve had always preferred the battering ram; it was useful, and versatile, but that wasn’t the point of this exercise. This was meant to take Steve out of his comfort zone. His next favorite was by far the mace, but again, Steve knew that comfort was supposed to be left behind. He sighed, then pressed the second button on the haft of the mace, shifting it into one of it’s bladed forms, two crescents folding out oif the weapon as a shifted his grip on it. The shield he left; it would be too tempting to simply use that, which was against the rules that Arjay was setting out. “I’m not interested in hurting you, Arjay…” Steve knew his strength could be dangerous; he was always careful with it. His elven friend was just now coming back from a pretty nasty injury; sure he had healed faster than most would have, but without his magic, Steve worried about hurting him. To be fair, Steve would have worried about hurting his friend even with magic there to heal him right back up.

That didn’t keep Steve from going on the offensive, though. Arjay wanted an excuse to move his shoulder, to work out the kinks and enjoy being whole, and Steve would give it to him.

“That’s not going away anytime soon.”
*
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Dungeons and Dragons-Forgotten Realms

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Mike

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#3
And that, that warning, summed Arjay’s friend up quite succinctly. He didn’t want to hurt him… ah, these humans… “I’m rather glad you aren’t interested in that, because being interested in things outside your capability is quite a frustrating prospect,” Arjay countered, giving the tip of his sword a little taunting wiggle.

People’s choices were telling, and their choices of weapon told much about how they would fight. A battle axe, after all, was largely an instrument of brute force. It was also, however, a very calculated weapon. When you swung the blade, you were committing yourself to that strike, given the momentum of the swing and your relative inability to stop the swing or feint with it. Of anyone that Arjay knew, thought, Steve was probably the one best capable of making those calculated strikes and being able to recover from a bad swing. Arjay countered by being more maneuverable, turning the strikes aside just enough to miss his sidestepped location, moving around to force Steve to take wider turns, all things that would tire a normal opponent out… but Steve wasn’t a normal opponent, now, was he?

“Remember,” Arjay said, after parrying a third blow, “You don’t hold a collection of weapons in your possession, you hold one weapon with many functions. You have a versatility that many people would be unable to match.” He spun aside, feeling the whoosh of the axe swishing past him, sure that he’d lost a few hairs under the keen edge of the blade. He continued the spin, batting Steve across the back of the calf with the flat of his blade and then doing a practiced little hop, born from countless spars with infuriated dwarves, that dropped his foot right onto the haft of the axe where it met the head, burying it a bit more securely into the dirt. “Have you tested how quickly you can make it change forms? What happens if you change mid-swing? The ideal weapon can change moment to moment.”
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