Striking Scribes. [Spar][0XF0RD]

[Shaz]

Shaz Half-Alv HP:100% MP:100% SwshBklr: Lvl 1 Scribe: Lvl 1 Scholar: Lvl 1 ☒ Shaz @0x1dea ✐ 752 ✉ notes MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS

The wind swirling slowly in the center of the large open field. Shaz would be seated his right hand holding onto his book staring at the pages. His finger flicking through the pages of Ancient text. He would be killing time waiting for 0XF0RD to arrive. Following the battle against the Gerald. They had set up this training session together. Shaz felt weak in prospect compared to Banner. He once swore to protect a certain green haired female but failed at that as well. He would stand up folding his book sliding it into the satchel hanging from his hip. He would adjust his beanie onto his head snapping through his inventory his twin blades forming on his right hip. He would place his hand onto his hips slowly twisting and cracking his back with loud pops. He would remove a small hacky sack like object from his bag. Tossing it into the air drawing his blade bringing the edge up to the bag launching it into the air, he would swing his second blade striking it once more, he would just up. Swinging his blade over into the blade once more, Swinging his hips bringing himself to the height of his jump, The edge of the blade barely hitting the bag before it fell to the ground with a soft thump. He would land on the ground. Gripping the hilt of the sword tighter in his palm a soft growl coming from his mouth. "4 isn't good enough of a juggle.." Dragging his finger over the edge of his blade. he would stare at it slowly. Unsure of if blades needed to be sharpened in this word. he would stare at the blade reflecting on his own weakness. He would grasp the blade roughly in his own hand, Digging his palm into the sharpness as blood slowly dripped onto the ground slowly pooling under him. He would stare at the blood releasing his blade slowly "Let this blood be payment for I will never let another drop of my comrades spill onto this soil. Mother earth drink now and savor the taste for this is the last you will ever get from me. But fret not for you will not starve I will quench your thirst for the blood of my enemies and keep my humanity by killing all those who mean my friends harm." He would slowly take a silken cloth from his bag wrapping it around his hand, the white clothe staining a dark red. He would stare at the cloth for only a few moments. His hair resting behind his ears. He would look up at the circling bird's high in the air before returning to reality. He would walk slowly over to the fallen hacky sack. A  cotton ball filled with iron dust and bits. He devised himself to become a DPS Juggler. Focusing on lifting the enemy into the and striking rapid cuts before finally sending them to the ground. A technique well suited for the swashbuckler class he knew fully well what he had to focus on. He would listen to the wind closing his eyes running simulations in his brain of various distances and angles of attack. Bringing his foot to the sack, Kicking it back into the air, He would bend his knees launching himself upward once more, twisting his hips swinging the blade into the air, striking the bag flush, launching it into the air, He would curve his hips swinging his foot around kicking the sack flush drilling it against a tree at the edge of the forest. Landing on one leg he would kneel down holding his blades out to the side of his body. He would begin to think analyzing his own movements in his head. Finally coming up with the perfect angles for his combo. He would grasp another sack from his bag throwing it into the air slightly, He would bring both his blades up slicing into the side of it. Leaping up he would swing his right sword in an upward arc, Cleaving into the bag with half power. Lifting it up slightly he would swing his free sword backhand into the blade lifting it to the height of his jump, Twisting his hips bringing his foot to kick into the sack sending it towards the ground. He would cross his blades . "Straights!" His blades glowing golden slashing down at the falling ball shredding it in half as he landed on the ground.. "Royal Flush"

[Deleted]

Status: Healthy / Rested Mood: Invitation for a Friendly Duel to the Death Why did I agree to this, again? thought 0XF0RD as he walked towards the open field. The tall man from the boar encounter with Caerbannog (Shaz, I think that's what his name was) said that he wanted to speak to him about something. Although they'd only met for the first time, 0XF0RD found it odd that already a complete stranger had an urgent matter with him. He noticed that the Swashbuckler was doing some sort of weird, ritualistic dance, involving swords and Hacky-Sacks. It was a intricate sort of performance, one that looked like it could be achieved only through great lengths of practice. One of the hacky sacks fell before his blades as he sliced through it, shredding the flimsy sack into nothing but threads that floated away on the wind. At this, 0XF0RD whipped out his notebook and made a quick note before putting it back: Don't lend this guy any hacky sacks. He approached the taller Adventurer, who towered about another head taller than 0XF0RD as he walked over. He felt somewhat uneasy, as there weren't a lot of people taller than him. He probably just wasn't used to being the shorter person in the group. Just in case there was a conflict, 0XF0RD held his hand to the hilt of his blade, and affixed his buckler to his left arm in case things got out of hand. He'd been used to combat, thanks to his little romps through the forests of the Windsor realm. He tried shaking his personal mishap with the boars out of his mind as he walked up to talk to the giant named Shaz. "Hey, there. What were you wanting to talk about?", he asked, the taller man turning towards him as he heard 0XF0RD's voice. Words: 294 Tags: Shaz

[Shaz]

Shaz Half-Alv HP:100% MP:100% SwshBklr: Lvl 1 Scribe: Lvl 1 Scholar: Lvl 1 ☒ Shaz @caer ✐ 000 ✉ notes MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS

He would stand there a bit sheathing his swords to his side. He would turn to face the male approaching him. His eyes would scan the bifocaled Guardian approaching him. He would remember his face from the battle against the Gerald. He shake his head a bit his hair falling into his face.Returning to his normal carefree attitude. He would walk over to the male. Giving him a soft smile. "Hello, Oxford. How are you today? You level up recently? That's some fancy plate armor you got on. Is it heavy? How do you carry such a big sword? Don't you get hot?" He would ramble on as usual his greeting to anyone he would meet. He would lean over scanning the boy's armor, Walking over his slowly he would slowly move to the male's back. Taking out his Quill and notebook. He would lean down looking at the marking on the inside of the male's plate collar. Drawing the maker's mark into his notebook before tucking it into his satchel. "Yes. I wanted to spar with you if that was alright."

[Deleted]

HP: 100% MP: 100% Mood: Assaulted With Questions, Defended With Answers The sudden onslaught of questions caught 0XF0RD off-guard. What is this? Some sort of psychological assault? The questions did little to lower 0XF0RD's guard, only to raise suspicion of the man before him. Especially when the taller man walked around behind him, making notes of his armor and where he got it. "Um, I'm fine. I'm working on it. Yes it is. Tanks have higher STR stats, making it easier to carry. No, it's chain mail," answered 0XF0RD, never taking his eye off of him as he moved around. The Swashbuckler pulled out a notebook and quill, and began to take notes. Oh, he's a Scribe, too. 0XF0RD pulled out his notebook and took note of that fact. As he was jotting this down, he heard the man's request for a spar. The sudden request had caused him to make a stray mark in his notes as he suddenly looked up at him, confusion written on 0XF0RD's face. He looked up at the Swashbuckler's face. He couldn't sense any hint of jesting or humor from him. Not being an overly violent fellow, 0XF0RD nonetheless drew his sword and affixed his buckler. Normally, he would ask for the reason of the spar, but then again, this wasn't a normal set of circumstances. Whatever his reasons for a spar, he hoped to get it over with quickly, as other pressing matters awaited him. 0XF0RD's resolve did not waver as he kicked the man's legs out from under him, watching him drop like a tree. Petals from flowers caught up in the kick floated on the wind, announcing to anyone around them of the scuffle that was about to take place. Words: 278 Tags: Shaz

[Shaz]

Shaz Half-Alv HP:100% MP:100% SwshBklr: Lvl 1 Scribe: Lvl 1 Scholar: Lvl 1 ☒ Shaz @0x1dea ✐ 429 ✉ notes MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS

He would watch the foot moving towards him, Tho taken by surprise he had enough time to take a series of steps back.His feet light padding along the wet grass. He was a bit taken aback by the sudden zerg rush of the male he thaught as a  scholar and even a friend. His hand moving to draw forth his Longsword from his right side. The silver metal blade ringing forth from the leather sheath in which it rested. He would close his eyes listening to the blade sing. Listening to the earth sing the light breeze the dew dripping from his trees the choir of nature itself filling his ears. He would wave his blade around cutting the air infront of him.  Twisting it open palmed removing his grimore from his pouch. He would twist his blade around bringing it in font of him. The art of Swashbuckling the art of dual wielding. A blade of Silver and a cursed book of Magic. A technique and stance he dubbed. "Proper Knight Tactics." His right foot leading his tongue sliding out his mouth slowly. A long inverted black cross on his tonuge, His half Alv marking. He would open his mouth slowly inhaling. The book in his right hand would begin to glow. The twisted black font of ancient tongues resting on the tattered pages. Shaz's eyes would scan over the book. "Clamatis parva diaboli!~" Shaz would inhale his lungs purging with the air around him.A pale red light would form in the back of his throat. The lettering on the book pulsing and sizzling with a audible crackle. The level 5 grimore tho weak was enough to cause a stingy blast if hit. The first spell in the book clamatis parva diaboli "The Scream of Small Devils" The blast would expunge from the mouth of Shaz. H is MP Draining by 10 percent. The energy bolt taking a shape of a small orb twisting through the air moving past the skull of Oxford drilling itself into the tree behind the tall guardian's head a small thunk would echo through the valley. Smoke purging out the nose and mouth of Shaz, A small knot blown into the tree he would slide his tongue back into his mouth the cross throbbing with a dull red light from the magical energy. He would raise his sword giving it a mighty thrust forward into the air. An open challenge to the male. "If you lose this battle. You shall follow me into the night. And raise the black banner of the BBC"

[Deleted]

HP: 100% MP: 100% Mood: The British Broadcasting Corporation? Weapon: Antiqua Longsword (1H) | Armor: Antiqua Chain Mail The words coming from this strange person confused Oxford. Why Shaz wanted him to join a foreign television company was beyond him. Besides, if he did somehow lose against him, there was no way he was intending to join. Guilds made him feel shackled, like he couldn't do anything without someone else's approval. The very idea nauseated him. Not wanting to lose, Oxford drew his sword and readied his buckler. The Grimoire that the gargantuan Swashbuckler possessed was a surprise, but magic was useless if it couldn't connect with its intended target. (Damn, that tongue is super creepy...) The fact that it was unusually long creeped him out. That, combined with the fact that it had a tattoo and would pulse an unhealthy red, as well, downright unnerved him. As Oxford was thinking on this, the Swashbuckler thrusted his sword skyward, looking him in the eye as he issued his challenge. Oxford assumed the 'ready' stance, waiting for his opponent to make the first move (although he had already kicked him in the legs). "Before we start, why on earth did you want to have a duel with me?" It made no sense to Oxford. If it was for the title of the strongest, then he should be dueling other players. Sure, Oxford had leveled up some, but he was nowhere to being considered one of the most powerful players. If it was just to PK him and rob Oxford of his gold, then he wouldn't back down. Other possibilities ran through his mind as he kept his stance, his brow frowning as he concentrated on the Swashbuckler. He made note to keep track of his hands, as Shaz may have other tricks up his sleeve. Words: 286 OOC Notes: Why were we having this duel? I forgot already. Tags: Shaz